Sex Education Season 1 Review: The (Teenage) Doctor Is In

What do you get when you combine teen sex comedy, coming of age drama, and a meticulous care to promote awareness around the prevalent stigmas of sexuality? Netflix’s Sex Education is the answer. And they receive top marks for achieving that delicate balance with effortless charm and enthusiasm.

The concept is unique, and it is refreshing since the themes are common. Cringey teen sex romp is a genre with countless movies that fall under its category—the same goes with coming of age drama. The stage between preadolescence and adulthood is rife with comic situations and life-changing dramatic milestones so it’s no wonder it’s the focus of so many films and television shows.

Sex Education doesn’t just regurgitate what has been done before. The story’s impetus is original and smart. Awkward Otis (Asa Butterfield) teams up with bad girl Maeve (Emma Mackey) to “treat” the sexually confused students at Moordale Secondary School, based on knowledge attained from his sex therapist mum, Jean (Gillian Anderson). The show uses the high-concept idea as the catalyst to explore the varied and diverse low-concept subtleties of character development and broad themes.

That’s not an easy assignment, but show creator Laurie Nunn approaches it with an honor roll student bravado. There is a natural flow that goes seamlessly from cringe-inducing and/or hilarious to utterly deep and heartfelt. Sex Education is filled with “teaching moments” that come about in an organic, genuine way rather than being preachy or pretentious. 

There are a slew of examples (many per episode, actually) of the show’s deft display of this approach. On the first episode, Otis encounters a situation where he finds himself doling out advice, putting his own unknown therapy skills to good use to help school bully Adam (Connor Swindells) with his Viagra-riddled problem. 

Otis: How does being the headmaster’s son affect you?
Adam: Well, it’s shit, obviously.
Otis: Go on.
Adam: Everyone’s watching me all the time. Everyone’s like “There goes Adam Groff, headmaster’s son. He’s got a big, massive elephant’s cock.” I’ve got feelings.

That simple “I’ve got feelings” at the end of the statement and Swindells’ delivery throughout push the scene from being just funny and absurd to this very poignant moment. Everyone has issues. Everyone. And this is just the first instance of that being the case for the characters on this show.

This direction is similar to that of another Netflix show, 13 Reasons Why. Sex Education expresses their messages in a much more succinct and healthy way. The approach 13 Reasons Why took was reckless, allowing too much wiggle room for positive messages to be misconstrued by young minds.

Sex Education is a fictional, cross-sectional study of the human sexual experience observed through the lens of teenagers with the added bonus of real-world, practical sex advice application. It is such a genius way to impart useful knowledge to both adolescent and adult viewers. And not only that, Sex Education is completely entertaining as well.

It is said to be a love letter to John Hughes movies, and it is successful in that aspect—tonally, visually, and musically. There are characters that remind me of those of Hughes’ films. Otis’ best friend, Eric (Ncuti Gatwa), has a certain Duckie (à la Pretty In Pink) quality with his loyalty and enthusiasm, and the way he humorously calls out the hierarchies of his school.

Eric: Man, are you really saying you don’t want to hang out with Maeve Wiley?
Otis: But, she’s not popular, she’s scary.
Eric: Yeah, exactly. She’s better than popular because she’s cool. And she’s the best kind of cool because no one in this place even knows it yet.

In this brilliant exchange, the labels on characters that were made popular in Hughes’ films and other high school-based comedies are addressed, and then the notion is quickly turned on its head. Eric knows there is more to a person than the general public’s perception of them. This is cleverly put in the script, acted wonderfully by the actors, and then put to example in numerous ways throughout the entire season.

Every coming of age high school story has certain tropes and characters and groups of characters. Hughes depicted these facets in his films in his singular way in aesthetic and tone, and it is evident that Sex Education has used that in a tributary fashion while standing strongly on its own. 

Sex Education’s soundtrack features modern music—several songs are by musician Ezra Furman who also performs with his band at the school dance—mixed with 80s classics. The Smiths’ “Asleep” plays painfully and beautifully as Maeve gets ready to go through with her abortion.

The set decoration and the clothes have an interestingly distinct blend of retro and contemporary, sometimes it’s a groovy 70s vibe or super rad and 80s, and other times it’s bright and modern. All these elements give it that fresh take on a John Hughes film but still exhibits its own uniqueness. 

There are the typical things that one might find in this type of setting, especially when it’s been stated that John Hughes movies were used as inspiration, but Sex Education doesn’t feel tired or cliche. Using these conventional components actually proves to be quite beneficial in telling their particular story.

Narrative tropes and archetypal characters like disastrous house parties, band geeks, and mean girls are instrumental in many of Sex Education’s plot lines that go further than some of their counterparts and predecessors. The familiarity the audience already has with these aspects lets the show challenge all sorts of norms and preconceived notions. It allows them to explore past the tropes and stereotypes in a really fluid and effective manner.

Timely topics are confronted. Consent, body shaming, and suicide all come up in storylines, and are addressed thoughtfully and adroitly. There is representation of diversity in many areas: people of color and sexualities as well as mental health issues like panic attacks. The main premise of the show is to make it okay to talk about sex and the many issues that surround it, but it doesn’t stop there, it opens the conversation on other things that may be considered taboo to talk about, too.

Although Sex Education is a heavy topic-heavy show, none of it feels weighted down by it. The show manages to give off a light and upbeat mood while not shying away from the difficult nature of the issues. The writing lays the basis for this and the performances fine-tune it. The directing and cinematography help with making the appropriate weight felt without being burdensome.

Episode 5 centers around body shaming. It is such a serious issue especially during this day and age. Maeve agrees to help mean girl Ruby and doesn’t even make her pay despite badly needing money. Her reveal of the reason astutely explains the seriousness of the situation.

Maeve: Do you know how long I’ve been called Cock Biter? Four years. People I’ve never met call me Cock Biter to my face. I bit Simon Furthassle’s scrote […] I’ll give you a hand job for a fiver if you’d like. Do you know how it started? Simon tried to kiss me at Claire Tyler’s 14th birthday. I said no. So he told everyone that I’d given him a blow job and bitten his dick, and that was it. This kind of thing sticks. And it hurts, and no one deserves to be shamed, not even Ruby.

I mean, tears running down my face, guys. Mackey’s performance is heart-wrenching and real; Maeve’s story is a scarily accurate depiction of how these things go. The show faces the issue head-on at this moment.

Then, later, the resolution is buoyant and funny. And it works because they didn’t pull any punches before. The It’s-My-Vagina show of solidarity is hilarious and you find you are able to laugh in spite of the heaviness of the plot.

Eric’s physical assault also happens on Episode 5. It’s another heavy and serious topic. It is treated as such, but in a different way than Ruby’s predicament because another thing the show doesn’t shy away from is character development. 

Eric is not just Otis’ funny and wise sidekick, he is his own person with his own set of problems, and the show gives his story the time and attention it deserves. A resolution is not rushed. He goes through the ups and downs that come from dealing with an assault, a friend’s betrayal, and difficult parental relationships.

This portion of the season is difficult emotionally because of how bright and vibrant Eric was from the beginning. The assault takes that infectious inner light of his away and he is not able to provide the comic relief any longer.

But that’s exactly how it should be. Eric is more than the comic relief, and characters like this shouldn’t be reduced to that.

The same can be said for Gillian Anderson’s character. Being a household name, Anderson brings the star quality to the show. In less capable hands, that may have been her only purpose, but the superb writing (by women writers) coupled with Anderson’s nuanced portrayal makes Jean a fleshed-out character that is integral to the story despite being tertiary.

Jean’s character development is something that is cultivated, even when she is not on screen, through Otis’ development as a therapist. When he first starts to give advice he uses technical language and psychological jargon that his classmates don’t understand. Jean communicates with her son this way, thinking that’s what works for her professionally. But she doesn’t realize that it might not work for the mother-son dynamic.

On Episode 2, Otis asks her what makes a good therapist.

Jean: I guess some therapists get into it for the wrong reasons. They do it for money or status. They think of it as a career rather than a vocation.
Otis: But, it’s just a job.
Jean: Sure. A job where one wrong word could trigger a nervous breakdown, resulting in decades of emotional damage. A “good” therapist, I guess, understands the weight of that responsibility.
Otis: That sounds intense.
Jean: Well, it’s a fine balance, listening to people without inserting yourself into their reality.

It’s a beautiful explanation, and one she is able to follow as a therapist but struggles with as a mother. Throughout the season we see her difficulty with this. Jean should know better than to insert herself into certain aspects of her son’s life, but she does it anyway, thinking she can dig her way out with the tools of her trade. 

Even an adult who is an expert on sex and relationships is not infallible.

On Episode 8, Eric tells Otis, “for a sex therapist, you are surprisingly insensitive.” And the same could be said about Jean at times. Otis is experiencing first-hand how hard it is to reconcile an extensive knowledge of the theories of therapy with its applications to personal relationships. 

Just like Eric is not used as a sidekick, Jean is not pigeon-holed into the quirky, boundary-less mother. She is quirky and she is boundary-less, but thanks to the writers and to Anderson we get to see and feel so much more.

Jean adds another layer to an already well-layered show. Whereas the bulk of the show is the teenagers trying to figure out sex and relationships, with Jean we get to see an adult struggle with the same things. Her layer is a much needed one that brings even more laughs and heart to the table.

The finale ends with a number of situations that demand further examination: Otis and Ola’s new relationship along with Maeve’s now unrequited love status, Jean and Jakob’s undeniable chemistry, Adam leaving after getting together with Eric, and the publication of Jean’s book. We need a second season as badly as the teens at Moordale need sex therapy.

Stray Observations:

• GILLIAN ANDERSON. GILLIAN. FREAKING. ANDERSON. That’s the most important observation, in my opinion.
• They use a clever camera trick for Otis’ masturbation scenes which works well, cinematically, and also makes the final scene all the more …satisfying. 
• Eric has the best laugh.
• Gillian Anderson is in a lot of rompers, and I appreciate that.
• Ruby describes Otis as “that weird sex kid that looks like a Victorian ghost.”
• Asa Butterfield does awkward teenager really well. Sometimes this can be portrayed as annoying or over the top or unrealistic, but Butterfield has perfected it.
• That video of Jean and the courgette. Oh wow. 
• I need a gag reel for this show, like, yesterday.
• Anyone else get Mads Mikkelsen vibes from Mikael Persbrandt who plays Jakob? Gillian Anderson characters with Scandinavian men is a concept I like …a lot.
• All Jean’s lovers wear the yellow kimono. 
• Jean smoking pot. Breathe if you agree.
• I want to live in Jean and Otis’ house. It is so beautiful and I love the way it’s decorated…well, maybe not with so many penises.
• Also, did I mention that Gillian Anderson is pretty great in this?

What did you think of Sex Education? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

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Sex Education Season 1 is currently streaming on Netflix.

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