I spent a lot of time alone and inside this winter break, courtesy of my friends' early-opening schools and the sleepy grey that descends over Portland like a wet blanket every winter.
Sounds depressing, I know, but it left me plenty of time to curl up in a soft microfleece blanket with a cup of coffee and binge Netflix shows to my heart's content (something I've really missed doing at college). I devoured series after series, from "You" (loved it!) to "Friends from College" (didn't love it).
After finishing a season of "The Great British Bakeoff' (Please also watch this show!), I was idly scrolling through my Netflix recommendations (as one does). That's when I came across "Sex Education." The show's shocking title belied the dreamily picturesque setting displayed in its thumbnail. I decided to give it a try--and I'm so glad I did.
In typical British fashion, the show infuses its bold depictions of sex and sexuality with a sense of dry, quirky humor. Protagonist Otis Milburn's life is far from perfect: he is constantly analyzed by his well-meaning mother, a sex therapist whose tendency to entertain a revolving assortment of male companions leaves him with little privacy in his own home. Faced with an urgent situation at school, Otis discovers that he has a talent for doling out sex and relationship therapy himself. He and classmate/class bad girl Maeve Wiley begin a teenage sex therapy "clinic" to help their classmates have healthier, safer, and more fulfilling sex lives--for a price, of course.
At a glance, the show looks to be eccentrically comedic--at best. However, the raunchy, sexually-charged premise of the series undercuts its surprisingly realistic depiction of adolescent relationships. Exploring everything from sexual fluidity to homophobia, to the complex internal struggle between religion and sexuality, "Sex Education" manages to give its watchers what so many other made-for-teens shows have missed: a look at what it means to be a "normal person."
I put "normal person" in quotes because the whole point of the show is that "normalcy" can mean whatever you want it to mean--whatever you're comfortable with it meaning. Otis can't jerk off, Adam wants to explore being with men, Ruby has a hairy vagina; so what? As Otis' mother points out in one poignant scene, the show's uniquely "dysfunctional" characters are only 16--barely on the cusp of adulthood, certainly not expected to know anything for sure quite yet.
With humor, poignancy, delicacy, rawness, and a healthy dose of Britishisms, "Sex Education" gives viewers both young and old a surprisingly realistic peek into what it means to be human--awkwardness, lust, love, heartbreak and all.