Netflix's Sex Education Bids Goodbye

The Kids Are Alright

Too many storylines and plot points don't spoil the fun of the final season of Sex Education, writes Joshua Muyiwa.

THE fourth and final season of Netflix’s Sex Education doesn’t give us any of the standard, staged, soppy landmarks of a teenage, high-school dramedy. Instead, it sticks to its guns, and allows us to travel through the emotional growth of its characters. Since its first season in 2019, this show has always found a way to talk about gender and sexuality — the euphorias, experiences and the extraordinary sense of feeling misunderstood — with craft and care. It has truly been a show about learning to love and live with people as they are. It is about fostering friendships that allow for our worlds to become bigger, better.

There’s a lot going on this season. We return to find Maeve (Emma Mackey) studying writing in America; Adam (Connor Swindells) has decided to ditch college and become an apprentice instead; and the rest of the Moordale Secondary set are going to Cavendish College, a yuppie-meets-hippie, hyper-progressive institute. Or in the words of Eric (Ncuti Gatwe), “All the gays everywhere!”

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And now for the trials, tribulations and tensions that this season attempts to unknot: Otis (Asa Butterfield) starts college with conflict; he finds there’s another sex therapist on campus — O (Thaddea Graham) — and starts his campaign to be the only one by accidentally flashing everyone his badly-shaved junk. Eric finds new friends but also navigates his religion, there’s Cal (Dua Saleh) experiencing the troubles of transitioning, Aimee (Aimee Lou Wood) turns to self-portraiture to heal from sexual assault trauma and falls in love with Issac (George Robinson), Jackson (Kedar Williams-Stirling) searches for his biological father, and Viv (Chinenye Ezeudu) finds the strength to leave an abusive relationship, while Ruby (Mimi Keene) tries to become friends with the cool kids again.

Of course, there’s the brilliant Gillian Anderson playing Jean, who deals with postnatal depression and returning to work like a ship steady through the choppy and the calm. Her circumstances introduce two new characters — kooky but concerned sister Joanna (Lisa McGrillis) and Hannah Gadsby as Jean’s radio show producer. The relationship between the sisters is heartbreakingly honest, and Gadsby’s deadpan face works perfectly in every interaction with Anderson, which renders their scenes hilarious.

Even in this well-crafted telling of teenage hopes and dreams, there are standout trajectories. There’s the wonderful relationship between Aimee and Isaac. Both of them are able to pull out the bricks from each other’s walls without damaging the person. Aimee’s unfiltered utterances have this clarity that lightens even the darkest of moments. She doesn’t mince her words at all, but it isn’t motivated by meanness — rather, a need to dispel it. Isaac steps out of his own sadness and situation to heal along with her. It is all tear-inducing and oh so sweet.

Then there’s Eric. In each scene, Ncuti Gatwe steals the scene. We follow Eric as he navigates the frustration between finding new friends and freedom at Cavendish College and his church and community. And there’s a lot of strength and complexity that Gatwe brings to this portrayal. He isn’t able to “hide parts of myself that others might not be comfortable with”. Taking such a stance isn’t easy — and it shows. Another element of this storyline was the flights of fantasy woven into its telling with Jodie Turner-Smith playing God in Eric’s spiritual struggles.

And then, there’s Maeve. She’s always had the shit-end of the stick. In this season, it just gets shittier. But she’s resourceful, resilient and still real. There's a conversation between Maeve and Jean in the kitchen that’s just the kick in the pants we all need.

This final season isn’t amazing. It is beautifully told, it gets the tone so right — every time. It might suffer from too many storylines, too many plot points. But just like life, Netflix’s Sex Education is manic, messy and magical. The most charming thing about this television series remains that it embraced all of these flaws, flowed with it and figured it out through talking to one another. The way it decides to end each of these arcs feels abrupt but still allows us to believe that these kids will be alright.

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