It’s a universal truth that change is part of growing up. But it’s also true that change is inevitable for any long-running TV show about growing up. Where we last left off in Sex Education — a series that may go down as one of Netflix’s best originals, depending on how this final season goes — everyone was poised on the brink of change. Jean, after almost losing her life during childbirth, had to figure out a way to tell her partner the baby wasn’t his. Otis and Maeve finally got together, only for Maeve to accept a place in a program overseas. Eric and Adam lost each other — the first boy either of them truly loved — and faced new paths forward in exploring their sexualities.
But the biggest shift that season four promises, of course, is the setting itself. After Hope Haddon’s reign as headmistress of Moordale Secondary School toppled, our beloved “Sex School†was sold to developers. The new season begins not long after with most (but not all) of the cast relocated to Cavendish Sixth Form College mid–school year.
As far as I’m concerned, season three was the show’s best season yet, especially for how thoroughly it explored the threat of a regressive, conservative bureaucracy hell-bent on shutting down any open discussion of sex. At first glance, Cavendish appears to be the antithesis of Moordale under Hope: progressive, student-led, ultragreen, and extremely queer complete with gender-neutral restrooms, lunchtime yoga sessions, silent discos, and a slide. Self-expression is encouraged here, epitomized by the Speaker’s Corner, where anyone can speak their truth.
Without an immediate villain to root against in this new setting, this season may lack a strong central “school†arc to unite the student body. The stakes seem different this time around — more individual and personal — and the slightly cartoonish nature of Cavendish’s liberal utopia feels built for satire as much as drama. But the recalibration doesn’t mean losing out on Sex Education’s signature warmth and complexity. You can see that with Eric, whose story line I’m particularly interested in. He never got to spread his wings and fly at Moordale, but at Cavendish, he fits right in, quickly befriending the popular trio known as the Coven: Abbi (Anthony Lexa), Roman (Felix Mufti), and Aisha (Alexandra James). Seeing Eric find his queer community could be really rewarding.
Really, it just feels great to be back in this world again. I spent a large portion of “Episode One†grinning from ear to ear; is there a more purely joyful sight than Eric laughing his ass off at Otis’s embarrassment during a bike ride to school? It’s also a smart choice for the premiere’s opening scene to return the focus to Otis’s insecurities about sex: In this case, his long-distance sort-of-girlfriend, Maeve, sends him a nude picture, but he’s too paralyzed by doubt to respond to her text at all, let alone return the favor with a dick pic.
Eric reminds Otis that it’s basic etiquette to send something back, but Otis also has something else on his mind: his mission to establish a free sex-therapy clinic in Cavendish. Otis quickly finds out he has a rival: O (Thaddea Graham), who started out making videos about sex and relationships before building a very popular clinic on campus. During their brief impromptu meeting, we quickly see why O poses such a threat. She’s great at what she does, almost immediately sensing Otis’s stress from helping his mom raise his baby sister and cutting to the core of his issues with Maeve: He’s afraid of opening himself up to her when he doesn’t know where their relationship stands.
The Otis we see snapping at O and accusing her of stealing his idea is the same one we once saw burning his social life to the ground during a spectacularly ill-advised speech at a party (a memory Eric later invokes). We’ve always known Otis can be jealous, insecure, and even slightly misogynistic when his neuroses get the best of him. But he swiftly gets his comeuppance this time around when he takes to the Speaker’s Corner to introduce his clinic. The speech is all wrong from the beginning, unintentionally implying a traumatic experience of incest, but every awkward wording pales in comparison to the biggest humiliation: a series of Otis’s unsent nudes splashing across the screen behind him in close-up when he plugs his phone in. The angles are off, the patchy shaving is inexplicable, and, for some reason, he’s flaccid.
“This college is weird. Nobody’s saying anything mean; they all just feel really sorry for you,†Eric hilariously remarks while Otis is stewing in his small pod dedicated to the clinic. But Otis’s shame does serve one helpful purpose. It brings him his first new patient: Cal, whose sex drive has gotten out of control since they started taking testosterone six months ago. Even the “profoundly unsexy†sight of Otis’s junk was enough to bring them to unexpected orgasm. Otis assures them that this period won’t last forever; in fact, what they’re experiencing isn’t far from the out-of-control horniness he experienced himself as a teenage boy. Although Cal doesn’t identify as male, the comparison is pleasantly gender-affirming.
Otis eventually calls Maeve and they manage to move forward, as always, with open and honest communication. He apologizes for ghosting, admits his fear of vulnerability, and suggests they try something that works better for them both. Their phone-sex session is another big moment for Otis and Maeve and Sex Education in general; it’s a relief that the show is committed to exploring their relationship for the time being, even if they’re split up geographically. With Maeve’s regular communication with both Otis and Aimee, she still feels like a big part of this story. And so far, her workshop sessions with their “genius†professor, Mr. Molloy (Dan Levy), are raising some intriguing questions about what it should cost you, emotionally speaking, to make art.
Aimee is on her own artist journey, taking a class at Cavendish to help process her trauma. When she runs into her classmate Isaac in the elevator, she trips over her words in a characteristically Aimee way, but he might have something to offer her. As Maeve points out, they could actually be friends.
It’s always nice to see minor characters on this show stick around and outlive their initial narrative functions. Ola, Rahim, and Isaac were all introduced as temporary love interests for our three main teen characters, but none of them quietly slunk away into the ether the moment their hearts got broken. This series barely ever sheds cast members, constantly building on the ever-growing ensemble and shifting characters around as part of one big lovable ecosystem.
Of course, two of those characters I just named are nowhere to be seen in this premiere, which brings me to my only real concern. I hadn’t read up on the cast departures going into this season, so I found myself a little distracted as I waited for several characters to show up in some capacity. But it seems like not only are Ola and Rahim gone, but so are Jakob, Lily, Olivia, Anwar, Steve, and several of the other minor characters from Moordale.
In some of these cases, as with Bridgerton’s Simone Ashley, it’s clear that scheduling conflicts were responsible. But in other cases, it’s hard to tell whether the choice was the writers’ or the actors’. I’m particularly saddened by the prospect of an entire season without Jakob, especially after season three did so much to sell us on his relationship with Jean again. The finale’s reveal that Jakob wasn’t Joy’s father suggests that some planning went into this turn. But it’s sad now to think back to earlier that same episode when Jakob told Otis, “I know I’m not your father, but I’m not going anywhere†— and to when he told his daughter, “You remind me of joy. Only joy,†inspiring the name of a daughter who isn’t even his. Seeing their little family broken up genuinely hurts, disrupting an otherwise satisfying experience.
Still, I’m interested to see more of Jean’s experience juggling single motherhood with her new radio job. And more broadly, one of the perks of having a bench as deep as this one is that Sex Education still feels like itself even with a few people missing. People change, and TV shows change, but I know we’re in good hands.
All the Good Things and the Bad Things That May Be
• I love the detail that Otis and Eric’s new bike route involves a lot more uphill pedaling.
• Aimee’s art teacher, eyeing her painting: “What is it?†“Boobs.†“So it is.â€
• Eric’s outbursts are always good for a laugh, so I loved his hysterical “Otis, for goodness’ sake, just tell them you’re a sex therapist!â€
• We don’t see much of Jackson in this episode outside his (still delightful) friendship with Viv, but he’s still clearly not over Cal.
• Speaking of Viv, she and her boyfriend broke up to focus on their studies this term, but she already has a new budding flirtation with a classmate named Beau. Will be curious to see what sets him apart from Eugene.
• Adam isn’t sure he wants to return to school, but he looks intrigued by a farm apprenticeship program. It seems like his relationship with his dad will be a big part of his final arc too. I’m definitely looking forward to seeing Michael make more of an effort to be the dad Adam deserves.
• On that note, both Ruby and Mr. Groff eating lunch alone in the gender-neutral restrooms? Brutal.