KittieC

Adolescence is not a whodunit, it's not even a really whydunit. I think some disappointed reviewers may have gone in expecting a police procedural or a more predictable exposition of a crime and motive.

This series is far more about character than plot. While we've been trained to expect a plot twist, in this case the viewer pretty much knows where this is going right from the start, even if we don't realise it yet.

What we get is 4 immersive hours, played out pretty much in real time, and in a single, continuous shot in each episode. The plot doesn't unravel but the characters surely do.

As their trajectories weave about each other in the first three parts, we get a remarkable insight to the child accused of murder, his devastated family, his gormless friends, the victim's bereft best friend, the investigating detectives confronted with their own vulnerabilities, the accused's independent psychologist, and we even have glancing blows the community, school and social media circles that both influence, and are influenced by, the crime.

The final episode does not deliver any of the big reveals we're used to in a crime story. Instead we get a brutal, claustrophobic journey that doesn't attempt to answer the crime questions but locks us in on the profound grief of a family learning that closure has escaped them.

The performances aren't always even, but there are some truly brilliant turns from young Owen Cooper, the outstanding journeyman Stephen Graham, and Erin Doherty. There are also incredible moments where the acting from both the primary and supporting cast is transcendent, tense and utterly compelling.

A big challenge in this format is that there is no allowance for the concept of 'show, don't tell'. Effectively everything has to be done by dialogue and that means some of it has to do a lot of work. The dark side of social media (including emoji codes), and the ascendancy of incel culture have to be explained, which can feel heavy handed at times.

Also absent is the victim, about whom we learn very little. What we do learn isn't kind and yet also not enough to cast her as a villain. That's an interesting artefact and while it's essential to tell this story in this way, it did make me feel a bit uneasy.

This isn't a series for anyone truly captured by their tik tok attention span (although I pretty much am, but still easily managed all 4 hours back-to-back), or for those not prepared to have a neat bow ties to their watch. But it's ambitious, inventive film making that showcases technical talent, and committed, powerful performances.

Maybe admirers of the novel have the advantage of their fondness for the story and its people, and for a premise wildly ahead of its time. I didn't even realise it was based on a book, and my three stars are mostly for George R Stewart's incredible prescience.

For me though, the adaptation was grossly let down by wooden and awkward writing, and consequently by characters failing to get either my affection or attention.

There's nothing wrong with the acting, the production values are fine. The pace is weird though, possibly another victim of the writing.

Ultimately these post-apocalyptic stories hinge on the tension of what it means to be human once our interaction with human-kind is ripped away. How do we maintain those concepts of 'humanity' when balanced against the raw edge of survival? Do we even need to? What new or adapted values have to thrive if we are to? How does our place in the world shift? What goes, and what remains?

To care about how characters navigate those challenges requires us to be put in their place. And the door to that isn't just what they do, but it's in what they say.

The dialogue is so unrelatable and awkward that I personally could be drawn in. More than just distracting, it was off putting.

It's a shame; there's some talent in the cast and clearly value in the story itself.

I get that Eggars is trying to both give us a feast and be faithful to the Dracula lore, but in all the whizz-bangery I lost any sense of sentiment or investment in the characters, and therefore also the story.

The cast are all doing exactly what they're supposed to do, but we have so little time with their characters, and them with each other, that when the climax came it felt like some one had forgotten to load the weapon. I hadn't been given anything to care about.

The titular character is unmasked quickly and comes with a bunch of spooky tricks, but I felt like I'd seen it all before ... and without the considerable benefit of Gary Oldman being the one to do it. The voice affect, the mind control of his victims, the 'being in 2 places at once' schtick felt like a poor copy. And I know that the creepy, pointy finger shadows are a neat reference to Max Schreck's legacy work, but did we have to have so much of it? Surely Lord Orlok can't be getting around looking like he's in a hand puppet show all the time?

Jump scares can't be the only thing relied on to creep us out, and they're also liberally sprinkled on the audience. But no one in the cinema I was in even flinched because they were telegraphed so clearly. The dream sequences (the central characters were asleep a LOT) were pretty identifiable and were certain to end with BOO-moment.

Depp does a great job when she's given the chance but most of her time is spent shaking uncontrollably. Hoult is criminally under-utilised. Dafoe is ... Dafoe; hamming it up at every opportunity. And Skarsgard's time spent in the make up trailer doesn't give a return on investment.

For me, monster horror should be less about the monsters and more about how we humans relate to and rise against what they stand for. But to create that tension requires us to care - for the humans (and humanity), and even a little for the monsters themselves. For me, Eggars gave me little to care about for either.