On March 13, 2025, the streaming world was changed forever when the duo of Jack Thorne and Stephen Graham debuted their one-shot masterpiece, Adolescence. Quickly, the crime series became the most must-watch show on the planet, dominating streaming charts worldwide with its ambitious cinematography and terrifyingly vital subject matter. In fact, so important was this story that it even ushered in a political movement that went to the top of the British government, as parents, teachers, and children across the world were alerted to the very real rising violence towards young women.
In a year, the series has been watched for more than 555 million hours and has broken many streaming records. At the same time, the series has picked up countless accolades, including four Golden Globes, most recently making history at the BAFTA TV Awards. So successful has the series been that many have assumed Netflix will want to capitalize by announcing a follow-up. However, this story seems so singular that it’s difficult to imagine how such a sequel could be told.
Back in January, Graham suggested that a follow-up was “somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind and Jack’s mind,” and that they would “pull it out in three or four years, so stay tuned.” Thorne quickly dismissed this, saying, “No, we don’t have a story.” However, at the aforementioned BAFTA TV Awards, Graham was asked once again about a potential sequel, with the beloved actor replying,** “There’s something in development right now.” **Exactly what that is remains to be seen, but excitement is rightfully high.
Your answers have pointed to one Oscar Best Picture winner above all others. This is the film that was made for the way your mind works.
You are drawn to films that operate on multiple levels simultaneously — that begin in one genre and quietly, brilliantly migrate into another. Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite is a film about class, desire, and the architecture of inequality that manages to be darkly funny, deeply suspenseful, and genuinely shocking across a single extraordinary running time. Your instinct is for cinema that hides its true intentions until the moment it’s ready to reveal them. Parasite is exactly that — a film that rewards close attention and punishes assumptions, right up to its devastating final image.
You want it all — and this film gives you all of it. The Daniels’ Everything Everywhere All at Once is one of the most maximalist films ever made: action comedy, multiverse sci-fi, family drama, existential crisis, and a genuinely earned emotional core that sneaks up on you amid the chaos. You are someone who responds to ambition, who doesn’t want cinema to choose between being entertaining and being meaningful. This film refuses that choice entirely. It is overwhelming by design, and its overwhelming nature is precisely the point — because the feeling of being crushed by infinite possibility is exactly what it’s about.
You are drawn to cinema on a grand scale — films that understand history not as a backdrop but as a force, and that place their characters inside that force and watch what happens. Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer is a film about the terrifying gap between what we can do and what we should do, told with the full weight of one of the most consequential moments in human history behind it. You want your films to feel important without feeling self-important — to earn their ambition through sheer craft and the gravity of their subject. Oppenheimer does exactly that. It is enormous, complicated, and refuses easy comfort.
You are drawn to films that foreground their own construction — that make the how of the filmmaking part of the what it’s about. Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Birdman, shot to appear as a single continuous take, is cinema examining itself through the cracked mirror of a fading actor’s ego. You respond to formal daring, to the feeling that a film is doing something that probably shouldn’t be possible. Michael Keaton’s performance and Emmanuel Lubezki’s restless camera create something genuinely unlike anything else — a film that is simultaneously about creativity, relevance, self-destruction, and the impossibility of ever truly knowing if your work means anything at all.
You are drawn to cinema that trusts silence, that refuses to explain itself, and that treats dread as a form of meaning. The Coen Brothers’ No Country for Old Men is a film about the arrival of a new kind of evil — implacable, arbitrary, and utterly indifferent to the moral frameworks we use to make sense of the world. It is one of the most formally controlled films ever made, and its controlled restraint is what makes it so terrifying. You want your films to haunt you, not comfort you. You are not interested in resolution if resolution would be dishonest. No Country for Old Men is honest in a way that most cinema never dares to be.
Just over a year on from Adolescence’s domination of the Netflix charts, co-creator Thorne is back with another hit series currently placing in the U.S. top ten. The show in question is Lord of the Flies, the very first television adaptation of William Golding’s classic 1954 novel, which is doing battle with the likes of **Kate Hudson’**s Running Point, the true crime docuseries **Should I Marry A Murderer?, and the latest adaptation of Man on Fire on the streamer. Starring the likes of Lox Pratt, David McKenna, Ike Talbut, and Winston Sawyer, *Lord of the Flies *has earned rave reviews from critics and is yet another acclaimed project in Thorne’s ever-growing catalog.
Adolescence is streaming now on Netflix. Stay tuned to Collider for the latest updates.
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Philip Barantini
Stephen Graham, Jack Thorne