Written by Steven Allison
There ain’t no (self-respecting?) 34-year-old who lives for a binge-able teen comedy as much as me. When I heard that Laurie Nunn’s Sex Education had dropped on Netflix, I was on it like a car bonnet. To both my surprise and delight, what I found was so much more than I’d been expecting.
Sex Education may be fundamentally British, filmed in the rolling hills of the Wye Valley straddling the border between England and Wales, but it’s sporting a distinctly heady, American cologne straight out of the 80s. If the funky soundtrack, baseball-style jackets, or stereotypically bitchy cool crowd (think along the lines of “The Plastics” of Mean Girls fame) don’t convince you of that, then I don’t know what will. This unusual marriage between both British characters and filming locations and the tropes of 80s American coming-of-age classics like The Breakfast Club makes for such a fresh take – albeit a highly progressive and sexually explicit one – on this type of show.
Sex is a big part of most people’s lives, and for many, first encounters happen during their late teen years. Such a time can be stuffed full of the most disconcerting mixture of excitement, disappointment, fear, and embarrassment. Whoever you are, at some point, sex would likely have been a big deal, mostly because you had zero idea about what the hell you were doing. Practising kissing with the nook behind your elbow might have been an option, but there were few ways of learning how to have sex other than the massively unrealistic scenarios played out in porn – that is if you were able to get your hands on any as a teenager. Oh dear. This evokes traumatising memories of the awful moment my parents confronted me about my internet porn exploits. The lesson learned? Always delete your search history.
For socially-awkward virgin Otis (Asa Butterfield), whose promiscuous mother Jean (Gillian Anderson) is a sex therapist, a porn-filled internet search history is the least of his worries. “Sweetheart, I’ve noticed you’re pretending to masturbate,” Jean announces with the nonchalance you might expect of a mother asking her son what he’d like for breakfast. But Otis chooses to keep his profound fear of masturbation – rooted somewhere between Jean’s unorthodox parenting style and his father’s extramarital affair – to himself. In an unlikely team, Otis and misunderstood rebel Maeve (Emma Mackey) – a smart cookie with killer wit – establish a clandestine sex counselling service for students. To their amazement, the randy, sexually-challenged clients quickly roll in and business is booming in no time. But as Otis and Maeve grow closer, and as his relationship with best friend Eric (Ncuti Gatwa) suffers, at what cost do their efforts to sexually liberate their peers come?
Teen comedies – the likes of Skins – have long been covering the ins and outs of sex, but few do it with the same empathic frankness as Nunn and her co-writers, Sophie Goodhart, Laura Neal, Laura Hunter, and Freddy Syborn. This show, which is wise beyond the years of its characters, avoids treating the subject matter of sex gratuitously or salaciously. Rather, it plumps for a reasonable, conscientious, and realistic way of tackling real teen issues. The end product is something that could so easily have been desperately cringe-worthy but instead comes off as wonderfully touching in parts and deliciously hysterical and farcical in others. Thanks to some sharp, well-developed writing, one moment you’ll be fighting back the tears, and the next you’ll have a belly laugh yanked right out of you.
Every episode of Sex Education offers new surprises, few capable of being seen coming. There are some that’ll pull your jaw to the floor, but I called one or two twists from the start. Though, their reveals weren’t any less enjoyable as a consequence. Not one performance of the ensemble cast is worthy of criticism, each member doing their characters and the problems they face true justice. Butterfield and Gatwa stand out from the rest, both young acting powerhouses who have very bright futures ahead of them. Hats off to Alistair Petrie too, who plays authoritarian headmaster Mr Groff – as well as the excessively stern father of Eric’s troubled bully Adam (Connor Swindells).
Seeing as this series is all about sex, there’s no need to keep my closing statement clean. Therefore, I’m happy to declare that I’ve got a big hard-on for Sex Education. I’ve got a feeling that it’ll get you going too – and without a helping hand.
Also, good news! Sex Education has been renewed for a second season with eight episodes!
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