From amazement to frustration: Sex Education season 4’s performative wokeness and missed opportunities
Image courtesy of Netflix
When Sex Education first came out, I, like many, was mesmerised by its cinematography, immaculate colour palette, remarkable writing and refreshingly authentic representation. I was impatiently awaiting the final season, especially since the third one was overcrowded with too many characters, indulging in repetitive storylines and failing to make Maeve and Otis’ will-they-won’t-they thing interesting. I was hoping for the return of Sex Ed’s witty brilliance, and I found myself (mostly) disappointed.
The show’s foundational heartfelt authenticity when approaching sex, race, gender, class and ability first started showing signs of fragility in season 3. It seems to me it has entirely crumbled down throughout the finale. The radical setting change from Moordale to Cavendish could have allowed for a better focus on fewer characters, but new ones were instead rapidly introduced. The show’s effort to represent as many identities as it possibly could greatly undermined its quality. Aisha, Abby and Roman appear one dimensional, mostly defined by their label (i.e disabled, trans) and ridiculous quirks. Lines such as ‘Why be mean when you could be green’, repeated mentions of pop astrology by Aisha, Abby’s moralist “positive vibes only” attitude and Roman’s woke bubble being so impervious to oppression that, as a trans man of colour, he has apparently never been discriminated against, felt like a millennial caricature of Gen Z. At the risk of sounding Gen Z myself, it was unbearably cringe.
Building tensions between Otis and his nemesis O were a total failure. O could have been the representation of a complex asexual woman of colour, but instead appeared cold, heartless and dishonest - besides being caricatural writing, this perpetuates harmful acephobic clichés. Accusing Otis of outing her after she blamed him for his somehow unfortunate genetic affiliation to a masculinist father made it seem like she was weaponising her queer identity to justify past behaviour, when she could have simply acknowledged the pain caused by her ghosting without coming out.
Through Ruby’s exposing of O, the show also had an opportunity to address issues with ‘accountability processes’ within cancel culture and group-based ‘problematic’ labelling and ostracization. Yet the show resolves the conflict with O magically understanding her faults and making one of the infamous apology videos that abound on YouTube to respond to her apparently efficient and harmless ‘call-out’. When returning to Cavendish, she remains ostracised, until, wondrously, Otis (supposedly ‘cancelled’ as well) and Ruby publicly redeem her.
Similarly, Eric’s painful dilemma between his religion and his sexuality was a chance for Sex Education to subtly address the wrench to be queer within the church and issues of anti-religion queer normativity within the LGBTQIA+ community. Unfortunately, it failed to do so, making Eric some sort of Joan of Arc 2.0 who talks to God, no less, a black woman (what else?).
Although this review mostly focused on what it did wrong, this season has not been all bad: a few characters remain the icons we fell in love with. Jean is just as brilliant: her struggles with postpartum depression, heartbreak and asking for help are compelling. Adam and his dad’s reconciliation offers a beautiful and authentic redemption arc. Aimee’s healing finds its completion through her art and love, and her screaming at the men who harass her was a delectable piece of TV. Maeve finally allows herself to blossom away from an environment that always limited her, effectively choosing to follow her dreams and ambitions.
In general, what felt unbearable was how the show took its spectators for fools: we are supposed to think ‘woke’ Gen Z all wear aggressively bright colours screaming ‘yasss’ all the time. We are to acquiesce to pop psychology-infused mediocre writing: if some insist too much on positivity, it is simply that they have big sad feelings inside caused by... bad breath and nail picking?! We are to find Isaac and Aisha’s maladroit speech sparking an immediate and successful sit-in for a more accessible campus believable? Sex Education’s final season wanted to eat considerably more than it can chew, resulting in characters becoming under-developed symbols of their category and aggravating a finale that already felt rushed and inauthentic.