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Sex Education has never shied away from showing anything on screen. After all, season 1 opened with Connor Swindell's Adam exposing his penis to the school cafeteria, which sets the tone for th༒e rest of the series. Four seasons later, the show is drawing to a close, and it feels like it's holding back on us. Don't worry, it hasn't found its modesty – but it's lacking a certain bite.
This isn't helped by a big switch-up that almost makes it seem like we're starting from scratch: Moordale Secondary, the primary location of the first three seasons, has been sold to developers and its students have had to find alternative a⛄rrangements to finish their education. That comes in the form of Cavendish College, a liberal utopia with seemingly endless amounts of funding (the latter making it unbelievable as a British state school). At Cavendish, gossip is frowned upon, everyone cycles to school, and there's a slide in the foyer, for some reason. And they already have their own resident student sex therapist, so Otis (Asa Butterfield) is out of a gig.
With several cast members moving on to other projects, there are some notable absences this season that are quickly brushed under the proverbial rug. Bridgerton's Simone Ashley, who played populꦅar girl Olivia? Oh, she's gone to another school (of course she has).
Emma Mackey's Maeve is also missing from Cavendish's halls, but she's still in the show. She's studying in the US after winning a place in an academic program at a prestigious college. After she and Otis reconcile at the end of season 3, the pair are trying to make a long-distance relationship work but are coming up against plenty of hurdles (inc☂luding, but not limited to, Otis' inability to take a decent dick pic).
As a mainstream Netflix show with a younger🀅 audience, Sex Education's representation of queer sexuality is nothing short of groundbreaking. Compared to the chasteness of Heartstopper, Netflix's other big British school-set drama, these eight episodes have no shortage of kissing, foreplay, and sex acts.
In the current political climate, the new season's trans representation is also admirable. With non-binary student Cal (Dua Saleh) joining the cast in season 3, trans character☂s Roman (Felix Mufti) and Abbi (Anthony Lexa) join the fray in season 4, and their transness is addressed with a frankness we haven't seen on a mainstream show before. We see the 𓃲side effects of Cal taking testosterone, which include sweating and an inconvenient increased sex drive, while a sex scene between Abbi and Roman seems momentous for a popular show aimed at younger audiences.
But is the show trying a little too hard to showcase these issues? The students of Cavendish College love to have Big Chats: gender-affirmin🧜g surgery for trans people, accessibility for disabled people, how to deal with an emotionally abusive partner. They're all important topics, but these discussions often feel focus-grouped to death. Why are these teenagers all so emotionally mature? Do real teenagers actually talk like this now? If a young person watching the show lear🅷ns something from these conversations, then it's an achievement on Sex Education's part, but is there not a subtler way to do it? One that doesn't risk alienating an older audience?
The show has always been at its best when we go micro rather than macro and zoom in on individual characters. Ncuti Gatwa, who plays Otis' best friend, continues to be a scene-stealer, commanding the camera every time he's on-screen. Their friendship has shifted in season 4: tensions begin to simmer as Eric finds himself in a queer social circle for the first time and continues to try and reconc🧸ile his faith with his sexuality.
Gillian Anderson, who plays Otis' mother Jean, also showcases a different side to her character. After a traumatic birth at the end of season 3, the usually glamorous and carefree sex therapist is suffering from postnatal depression. Attempts at throwing herself back into work with a radio hosting gig aren't very successful, while her spiraling mental health creates a barrierཧ between her and Otis.
Her life is thrown further into disarray by the arrival of her younger sister Joanna (Lisa McGrillis). She's impulsive, hedonistic, and, unfortunately, quite annoying. The dynamic between the two sisters never quite lands and itꦫ's hard to imagine a shared history there, meaning they're just not believable as siblings. It's only in the penultimate episode that we get a glimpse behind the curtain, and while it's a welcome addition, it's still too little, too late.
There's tragedy for Maeve this season, too, but it risks feeling cheap and playing into the trope of the tragic working🅰-class story. This also forms a jarring chasm, between her grief and the majority of the issues plaguing her peers – particularly Otis.
Maeve's best friend Aimee (Aimee Lou Wood)'s arc is another highlight, as she finds a way to process the sexual assault she experienced in season 2, but it's frustrating that it's so wrapped up in the introduction of a new male love interest. A tent🧜ative flirtation begins between her and Isaac (George Robinson), Maeve's former caravan park neighbor, but their newfound bond feels like a hurried solution to the problem of Maeve's absence leaving them both disconnected from the rest of the cast.
Adam, of season 1 exposed penis fame, has another satisfying journey. He's dropped out of school and started an apprenticeship at a farm, which boosts his confidence and helps him mend his relationship with his father, former headmaster Michaeဣl (Alistair Petrie). After his breakup with Eric, Adam does a lot of work on himself over the course of season 4, as does Michael, and the slow and steady repair of tꦚheir father-son bond is one of the most rewarding parts of the season.
And now, we move on to the elephant in the room: Otis. There's nothing wrong with Butterfield's performance, but he can't save a character that gives us little to root for. Of course, a character doesn't have to be 'likable' to be interesting, but tღhe issue with Otis is that he's never been particularly compelling. In a world where teenagers know how to talk about their feelings, his petty squabbles with Eric, his mother, and Maeve are more diffi💟cult to swallow.
This means that the season boils down to one major sticking point: it is difficult to care about Maeve and Otis' relationship, the axis around which the new ep🅷isodes revolve. When all they seem to do is bicker, it's hard to see why we're meant to root f🍰or them. Maeve's scenes with Aimee and Isaac – and a touching heart-to-heart with Jean – are more touching than any moment with Otis.
This season moves at a slow pace, wi𝓰th a clear endpoint in its sights and a few too many episodes at its disposal to reach it. This isn't helped by the new school setup – the kids all feel too disparate, sticking to pairs and trios for the majority of their scenes. And when that conclusion does come, it's pretty sugary sweet.
The series ties up its conflicts in a neat bow, with everyone (mostly) happy. While we're meant to smirk at Cavendish's wholesome, unproblematic values, the season finale risks slipping into that same territory. Plus, as the conclusion to a four-season run, it falls a little flat with so many key players missing, from Jean's ex-beau Jakob (Mikael Persbrandt) to fan-favorite student Lily (Tanya Reynolds). While Sex Education was never afraid of tackling real-world issues head-on, these happy endings feel contrived. In truth, the series should have wrapped with season 3, but there's enough humor and love left to make th✨is new season a journey worth takinꦏg.
Sex Education season 4 is streaming now on Netflix. For more, check out our picks of the other 澳洲幸运5开奖号码历史查询:best Netflix shows to add to your watch list.
| Genre | Comedy |
