“I would rather see this world through the eyes of a child”
Aurora’s haunting lyrics echo through the final moments of Adolescence, written by Stephen Graham and Jack Thorne, a masterstroke of television, which has taken the world by storm.
The show unflinchingly unravels the erosion of familial bonds when torn apart by the unimaginable, which crime invites. Eddie Miller clutches his son’s forgotten teddy bear, tucking it gently into bed as though the innocence of Jamie’s childhood might somehow be restored, the raw weight of parental insecurity parrots through the stillness.
What happens when a parent, despite their best efforts, is left wondering — “Did we do enough, love?”
The internal convincing ringing hollow and admission ringing too true as Manda and Eddie grapple with the last straws of normalcy in their broken home.
At its core, Adolescence by Phillip Barantini is not merely a psychological thriller exploring the dark undercurrents of teenage violence, societal failure, the underbelly of social exposure and adolescent insensitivity.
It is a piercing exploration of parental self-doubt — an emotional autopsy that dissects the internal and unspoken turmoil families endure when their child becomes the unthinkable — a delinquent.
The Millers, a seemingly normal, close-knit family from a lower-middle-class Irish family in a quiet neighbourhood of Liverpool, are thrust into chaos when Jamie Miller, their teenage son, is accused of murdering Katie, a girl from his school, who bullied him and his friends, Ryan and Tommy.
What ensues is the unraveling of trust, identity, and emotional stability reveals that the most profound wounds inflicted by a child’s actions are often borne silently by the parents.
The crushing weight of denial and self-blame
Eddie and Manda Miller are blindsided by the accusation. As Eddie admits, barely getting the words out due to the tears and the shock, Jamie was a “good kid,” and he was a “good dad.”
Yet, as the Millers grapple with the horrific CCTV footage that reveals Jamie brutally attacking Katie, their certainty crumbles. The immediate response is denial — a desperate, almost instinctual reflex to preserve the illusion of normalcy.
Where Jamie and Eddie, his trusted adult during the investigation sit alone in the cold interrogation room at the end of Episode One, and Eddie asks, “What did you do?”
“We made him, didn’t we?” Manda and Eddie ask each other in disbelief, their words laced with unspoken anguish.
For Eddie, the echoes of his own childhood trauma resonate loudly. His father’s violence shaped him into a man who vowed to be different — “I just wanted him to be better, but is he?”
The pain in his voice is not just about Jamie’s actions but the gnawing realization that, despite breaking the cycle of physical abuse, he may have inadvertently nurtured a different kind of rage, that ultimately, his decision to never hit his children failed to break the cycle.
This internal battle of denial and self-blame plays out subtly but powerfully. Eddie, fiercely protective of Jamie, refuses to let attorney Paul Barlow have a private consultation with his son, saying, “He’s got nothing to hide, is he? Let him answer.”
It is not just trust but the need to cling to a version of Jamie that existed before the tragedy. But as the pieces unravel — Katie’s the incel bullying angle, Jamie’s insecurities and bottled-up anger — Eddie’s steadfast confidence begins to crumble.
The erosion of parental identity
A striking element of Adolescence is how parental identity becomes intrinsically tied to the child’s actions. When Jamie’s guilt becomes irrefutable, Manda and Eddie are left grappling with an unbearable question: “Where did we go wrong?”
Their introspection is not just about missed signs but a brutal examination of their entire approach to parenthood. Ultimately, their internal crisis boils down to one thing: Were they good parents?
Eddie’s anger, masked as protectiveness, and Manda’s quiet acceptance of familial dynamics — these fractures surface as they reflect on their marriage and their parenting.
The unspoken emotional burden that follows, passed off as the “new normal,” is a poignant commentary on how families often choose silence over confrontation when faced with unspeakable pain.
The dynamics of toxic masculinity also emerge as a significant theme. Jamie’s description of his father and grandfather as “masculine men” and guys who “liked things as they liked them” points to generational patterns of emotional suppression.
Jamie’s anger issues are a reflection of this unspoken expectation of strength, and his outbursts, though controlled in public, manifest violently in private. Eddie’s failure to recognize the emotional volcano simmering beneath Jamie’s surface is not from neglect but from a societal script that discourages vulnerability in men. The age-old mantra, “Boys don’t cry.”
The fragility of emotional suppression
In one of the most heart-wrenching scenes, Eddie’s van is vandalised with the word “Nonce,” a cruel reminder of the societal judgment that follows families of the accused.
The Millers’ collective silence in the face of humiliation and shame is a reflection of emotional suppression — a trait Eddie inherited and, perhaps unintentionally, passed on to Jamie.
Even Jamie, emotionally mature enough to understand that his anger invites consequences, suppresses his feelings until they explode in violence. His interactions with psychologist Briony Ariston reveal a boy who oscillates between defiance and vulnerability.
He lashes out when asked about his father, calling it a “trap,” yet admits to feeling ugly and craving validation. His simmering insecurity, compounded by bullying and social humiliation, ultimately turns into a lethal cocktail of repressed rage.
A household on the brink: The silent collapse
The ripple effects of Jamie’s actions do not stop with his arrest. The emotional erosion seeps into the Miller household, exposing fractures that were long buried. Eddie and Manda’s marriage, once held together by routine and silent compromises, begins to crumble, thirteen months after the arrest.
The words “He’s got a terrible temper, but so have you,” spoken by Manda, strike a painful chord. The unacknowledged anger, the emotional distance, and the years of unspoken fears bubble to the surface, leaving them questioning whether they created a monster in their attempt to break cycles.
Even Lisa, Jamie’s sister, embodies the silent suffering of a sibling caught in the wreckage. The cancellation of Eddie’s birthday plans in the wake of their emotional turmoil becomes a symbol of their collective inability to confront the truth. Their silent glances in that bedroom after the ride back from the mall, heavy with unspoken pain, convey volumes about the emotional burden they carry.
The final break: A father’s quiet collapse
The final moments of Adolescence are a masterclass in emotional devastation. As Eddie opens Jamie’s room, a space untouched since his arrest, the veneer of strength he has maintained shatters. Hugging Jamie’s teddy bear, he sobs uncontrollably, whispering the words that encapsulate the agony of every parent who has ever questioned their role in their child’s downfall — “I’m sorry, son. I should’ve done better.” The final dialogue haunts the audience long after the credits roll.
It is in this moment that Adolescence delivers its most profound message — that sometimes, despite a parent’s best efforts, the world shapes a child in ways they cannot foresee.
Parental insecurity, the gnawing feeling that they could have done more, is a silent epidemic that plagues families of juvenile offenders. The burden of that “what if” lingers long after the courtroom doors close, weighing down hearts that once beat with the purest of intentions.
Beyond the tears: A call for compassion
Adolescence ultimately asks society to look beyond judgment and recognize the complex web of emotional and psychological dynamics that unfold when a child crosses the line between innocence and violence.
It is a stark reminder that families, too, are victims — casualties of a world that often leaves them wondering if love, protection, and good intentions were ever enough.
As Eddie’s tears soak into the fabric of Jamie’s teddy bear, Adolescence leaves us with a haunting reflection — sometimes, the greatest pain lies not in what was done but in what wasn’t and what could’ve happened if they “tried a little more...”
And perhaps, in those moments of quiet reflection, parents begin to see the world not just through their eyes, but through the eyes of the child they once held so close.
(Tarun Bhuyan is a student studying in SAI International School. Views expressed are his own.)
