Sex Education Season 3 review: Another winning chapter in Netflix's saga of self-love

Language: English

Season 3 of Netflix’s charming coming-of-age triumph _Sex Education_ opens with… sex. Lots of it. Through an inspired opening montage featuring the various couples of the show going at it, we are given a recap (sexcap?) to remind us who is with who and where we left off last season.

Season 3 picks up in a new school year, months after the events of last season. Unlikely couple Eric (Ncuti Gatwa) and his bully-turned-boyfriend Adam (Connor Swindells) are going strong. Jean (the inimitable Gillian Anderson) is pregnant with ex Jakob’s (Mikael Persbrandt) baby, which she is yet to tell him about. And of course, lead pair Otis (Asa Butterfield) and Maeve (Emma Mackey) continue their ongoing “will they won’t they” dance, which, three seasons in, feels a tad stretched at this point.

Otis is now blissfully in a casual relationship with an unlikely classmate, and Maeve continues to get closer to her obnoxious neighbour Isaac. You know, that guy we all love to hate after the Season 2 finale, where Otis finally confessed his feelings for Maeve through a voicemail message which assface Isaac deleted before she could hear it. Aside from following the ongoing relationship drama and sex-related insecurities, this season also sees a new villain headmaster at Moordale — Hope (Jemima Kirke), who is here to clamp down on the “sexual deviant-infested” school.

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Season 3 is another winning chapter in series creator Laurie Nunn’s deeply empathetic saga of self acceptance. There is so much to love about her show. Be it its wonderfully quirky world, its lived-in performances or how almost bafflingly open and frank it is in discussing sex, sexuality, and identity.

I love that it makes me think and reflect, and at times, straight up uncomfortable. But it is a kind of discomfort I am grateful for.

You also know a show is a triumph of diversity when you watch a scene in which a Black adopted son decides to go for a run with his white lesbian mother, and the craziest thing about that scenario is that they are running together.

More than its supremely lovable characters, where the series soars is how much it truly cares about them, and demands we feel for them. Nowhere is that more clear than in the case of the characters you passionately disliked last season, such as ex-headmaster and toxic father Mr Groff, Maeve’s mum, and Isaac, all of whom you cannot help but feel for this season. There is no ‘good’ and ‘bad’ here, there are only… people, who are but a result of the insecurities they never confronted.

Which is perhaps why the new hard-ass headteacher Hope was the biggest issue I had with this season. Hope is little more than a one-note Disney villain who is just annoying to watch. Despite the attempt of the show to humanise her through two forgettable scenes involving her medical hardships, she proves to be little more than a two-dimensional sucky person who feels out of sync with the empathetic DNA of the show.

Arguably, the greatest achievement of Sex Education is how it makes concepts into living breathing characters. The Netflix series remains a shining benchmark of how to make a ‘social message show,’ impressively moulding its clear agenda into lovable characters and an engaging narrative. Case and point being one of the new additions this season, Cal (the impossibly cool Dua Saleh), a trans character who, at first, feels like a tick box attempt at being inclusive, but quickly becomes one of the most memorable characters of this season.

There are times, however, where this delicate dance of educating and storytelling is not as seamless, and the PSA-ness trumps the narrative, such as one scene during an STD-focused episode which has a nurse quite directly lecturing us, the audience, about sexually transmitted illnesses.

Early on this season, I also did find myself wondering what the endgame was for the show. There is a consistency and sameness to all three seasons that makes it hard to tell them apart. Character progression aside, nothing really changes. It is the same winning formula of exploring teen angst, young love, and sex-related insecurities time and again, which could, in theory, go on forever. And I would happily keep watching. But I did wonder what the plan was, and whether it was building towards some sense of finality.

Ironic, considering the finale episode does feel like a farewell of sorts. Despite a few open plot points, it almost feels like a goodbye. Or the option of one, as if the creators (or Netflix) remain undecided about its future. If that is the case, and this really is goodbye, it certainly ends on a high with a fitting finale that is touching, sweet, and keeps you smiling from ear to ear.

In terms of the arcs that steal the season, few characters have had a track as transformative as Adam (a quietly devastating Connor Swindells), who had a turbulent but deeply rewarding journey of love and self-acceptance. Similarly, while Otis and Eric will rightfully go down in TV history as absolute friendship goals, for me, this time it was Aimee and Maeve’s heartfelt friendship that stole the show.

In the end, I do not quite know whether Sex Education will be classed as prestige TV. On the one hand, it is not one I find myself dwelling on between seasons. It does not “stay” with me. But when I am watching it, I am never not having a blast, and I am always awestruck by just how open and honest it is, as a wonderful, unabashed celebration of being who you are. The fact is I love these characters, I am grateful for this show, and my life is objectively better for having watched it.

Sex Education Season 3 will start streaming this Friday on 17 September on Netflix.