Brace yourselves, dear viewers, for the latest (and last) season of Sex Education. A show that once had so much promise but now seems to have lost its way in a maze of cringe-worthy dialogue and over-the-top melodrama. The familiar faces of Asa Butterfield and Ncuti Gatwa return as Otis and Eric, alongside the brilliant Gillian Anderson reprising her role as Otis’s mother, Jean. Emma Mackey, Connor Swindells, Mimi Keene, Aimee Lou Wood, and Kedar Williams-Stirling also make a comeback in this final season. Season 3 left off with Maeve off to embark on her dream journey in America, Jean’s premature pregnancy, Eric and Adam’s crushing breakup, and the closing of Moordale Secondary School.
This season, Otis, Eric, and their former Moordale classmates find themselves in a new school: Cavendish Sixth Form College. Otis finds himself in a competition with “O” to establish a sex clinic at the school, and Eric grapples with a sense of alienation within his church community. Maeve deals with an academic blow and fights to regain her self-confidence, while Cal faces battles of gender dysphoria and body dysmorphia. Amiee continues to cope with the aftermath of her sexual assault from Season 1, meanwhile Jackson embarks on a personal mission to find his father.
Oh, where do I start? The new characters—who feel like they were written by out-of-touch adults with a vague idea of how teenagers act but clearly haven’t been near one in years—are a mishmash of stereotypes and clichés, as if the writers raided a dusty old book of teenage tropes. The diversity feels forced, the dialogue unnatural, and their interactions are about as genuine as a three dollar bill. It’s as if the creators thought that throwing in a bunch of “edgy” and “woke” characters would automatically translate to deeper messaging and greater relevance. Sorry folks, it takes more than colorful hair and trendy buzzwords to create compelling characters.
And let’s talk about the budget, shall we? Sure, the campus looks like a utopian dream, but it feels completely detached from reality. High school students don’t live in a world of Instagram filters and perfectly choreographed moments. This school is almost entirely student run, they all use high-tech tablets, and the teachers are practically perfect. Where’s the grit? Where’s the authenticity?
As for the main characters we’ve grown to love, they’ve become caricatures of themselves. Otis and Maeve’s relationship, once a depiction of genuine teenage awkwardness and longing, now feels like a soap opera plotline gone wrong. The chemistry that made us root for them has been replaced by contrived conflicts and eye-roll-worthy misunderstandings.
In an attempt to tackle too many important issues, the show dives headfirst into preachy territory. The subtlety of the earlier seasons is gone, replaced by heavy-handed lectures and after-school special vibes. We get it, Sex Education. You want to educate us about sex and relationships, but there’s a way to do it without hitting us over the head with a morality hammer.
In the end, Season 4 of Sex Education feels like a show desperately trying to stay relevant, but instead comes across as a cringe-fest of epic proportions. The charm is lost, the characters feel hollow, and the once-refreshing take on teenage life has devolved into a predictable and uninspired mess. Save yourself the disappointment and rewatch the earlier seasons where the show still had its spunky, genuine spirit.
