The Cost of Not Showing Up – What Netflix's Adolescence Teaches Us About Masculinity
- Josh Hearnden
- Mar 24
- 6 min read
Updated: Apr 1
I recently finished watching Adolescence on Netflix, and it’s stayed with me in a way few shows do. On the surface, it’s a story about teenage violence, peer pressure, and the brutal realities of growing up in a fractured society — but beneath that, it’s really about the absence of guidance and how the next generation is left to navigate a chaotic world without a map.
I’ll be honest — I found it difficult to put my thoughts about this show into words. It stirred something deep, something hard to articulate. So I used AI to help shape my thoughts and structure what I was trying to say — not because I didn’t have the thoughts, but because it was hard to give them form. Adolescence hits on themes that are complex, raw, and deeply personal — and that’s exactly why it matters.
Interestingly, watching Adolescence made me reflect on my own recent sense of feeling lost. In a previous blog post, I wrote about struggling to find direction and purpose — that feeling of drifting without knowing exactly where I’m headed. The young men in Adolescence are dealing with that same sense of disorientation, but under much higher stakes. Their search for identity — for belonging — takes them down dangerous paths because they don’t have the emotional tools or guidance to figure it out any other way.
The Weight of Absence
At its core, Adolescence is about the emotional gap left by absent fathers — and not just physical absence, but emotional withdrawal. The young men in the story are searching for structure and guidance, but instead of finding it at home, they’re forced to create their own warped version of masculinity from the influences around them — social media, toxic online communities, distorted gaming worlds, and peer pressure.
What’s so heartbreaking about the series is how real it feels. It reflects the very real crisis in modern masculinity — where young men are often left to figure out identity, strength, and purpose on their own. The characters in Adolescence aren't bad kids — they’re lost. They’re trying to fill the void with dominance, aggression, and loyalty to the wrong people, because that’s what they’ve been shown.
The older generation — the fathers, the mentors — are either absent, ineffective, or consumed by their own struggles. And that’s the most sobering takeaway from the series: the cost of not showing up.
When young men are left without guidance, they look for it elsewhere — and the consequences can be devastating.
The Search for Belonging and Identity
One of the most powerful themes in Adolescence is the search for belonging. The gang culture portrayed in the series is brutal and violent, but it’s also built on loyalty and brotherhood. For the young characters, the gang isn’t just about power — it’s about identity. It’s the only place where they feel seen and valued.
This is what happens when positive male role models are missing — young men search for connection and identity wherever they can find it. They’ll bond over shared pain, shared trauma, and shared aggression because they’re not being shown a better way. The heartbreaking part of Adolescence is how quickly this search for belonging becomes a path toward destruction.
But beneath this search for identity lies something even more unsettling: male rage. The series explores how anger and frustration manifest when young men feel abandoned or misunderstood. When boys aren't taught how to process pain, vulnerability, or disappointment, that emotional energy often transforms into dominance and aggression.
The rage we see in Adolescence isn’t just about violence — it’s about emotional isolation. Young men are growing up in a world where they’re taught to value strength over vulnerability, control over connection. The result is a generation of boys who are emotionally adrift, seeking validation and power in all the wrong places.
Stephen Graham’s character embodies this perfectly. He’s not just a father figure — he’s a representation of a whole generation of men who were never shown how to feel. His scenes with Owen
Cooper reflect the struggle of passing down emotional strength when you were never taught it yourself.
Cooper’s character represents the younger generation — searching for answers, for identity, and for acceptance. His relationship with Graham is layered with unspoken pain and expectation, and the tension between them reflects the generational struggle of trying to define masculinity in a world that doesn’t offer many answers.
I could relate to this sense of searching. When you’re feeling lost, you look for stability in whatever you can find — whether it’s people, work, or even the sense of control that comes with shutting off your emotions. Adolescence shows what happens when that search goes unanswered — when young men are left to figure it out on their own and are pulled toward the wrong influences.
The Drone Shot – A Masterclass in Cinematography
From a technical perspective, Adolescence is stunning — and no moment captures that better than the ending of Episode 2.
The closing sequence is a technical and creative masterpiece. The camera starts with a team attaching it to a drone, which then flies a distance of 0.3 miles across the site to the murder scene. Once there, the camera transitions from the drone into the hands of a camera operator and a team of grips, who catch it and transition seamlessly into a close shot of Stephen Graham’s face.
It’s not just impressive on a technical level — it deepens the emotional intensity of the moment. The shift from the wide, aerial perspective to the raw close-up reflects the core theme of the show: the transition from emotional detachment to vulnerability.
That moment felt like a metaphor in itself — the camera drawing in as if to say, You can’t look away from this. It’s a reminder that the damage inflicted by emotional isolation and misguided masculinity isn’t abstract — it’s right in front of us. And we have to face it.
The one-shot approach also means that the actors have no room for error — no retakes, no edits to clean up the performance. That pressure creates a rawness that you can feel in every frame. The tension is real because the stakes are real.
How Do We Fix This?
Adolescence makes it clear that the problem of male rage and emotional isolation won’t fix itself. So how do we begin to change it?
Here are a few thoughts:
Teach emotional literacy early – Boys need to be taught from a young age that strength isn’t about emotional detachment — it’s about understanding and expressing emotions in a healthy way. Schools and parents need to give boys the tools to identify and communicate what they feel.
Create spaces for vulnerability – Men need spaces where they feel safe enough to open up emotionally — without judgment or pressure. That means encouraging real conversations among friends, fathers, and mentors.
Redefine masculinity – The idea that strength means silence or dominance is outdated and harmful. We need to shift the definition of masculinity to include vulnerability, emotional intelligence, and compassion.
Positive male role models – Young men need to see examples of healthy masculinity — men who show strength not by suppressing emotions but by navigating them with honesty and courage.
Intervene early – Programs focused on mental health, anger management, and peer support can help young men channel their emotions into positive outlets before they turn destructive.
The Takeaway – Showing Up Matters
Adolescence is a hard watch because it forces you to confront uncomfortable truths about modern masculinity. It’s easy to criticize young men for being angry, reckless, or violent — but the series makes you ask why they feel that way. What void are they trying to fill?
It reminded me that showing up matters — even when it’s hard, even when you don’t know what to say or do. Young men, boys, the next generation — they’re watching us. They’re learning not just from what we say, but from how we act, how we love, how we handle pain and fear.
We can’t afford to stay on the sidelines. We have to lean in — to the hard conversations, to the messy emotions, to the moments when it’s easier to walk away. Because showing up isn’t about perfection — it’s about presence. And that’s what the younger generation needs more than anything.
It left me thinking: Am I showing up in the way that matters most?
As always would be great to hear your thoughrs and opinions, its a really important to talk through issues like this. Please feel free to share if you feel someone could benefit from this post.
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