‘Sex Education’ Season 3 is all about characters coming into their own

Where would we be without Sex Education? Laurie Nunn’s unflinchingly excellent Netflix series about English teens returns today for its third season, a delightful eight-episode romp that feels criminally short.

After a spectacularly ribald opening montage, we learn that Otis (Asa Butterfield) is having casual sex, a fact which shocks him as much as anyone else. Sex doesn’t magically make Otis any less awkward or emotional, and he’s still not speaking to Maeve (Emma Mackey) while she hangs out with Isaac (George Robinson). Elsewhere, Eric (Ncuti Gatwa) and Adam (Connor Swindells) explore their new relationship, Jean (Gillian Anderson) and Jakob (Mikael Persbrandt) prepare to co-parent, and Jackson (Kedar Williams Stirling) is captivated by new student Cal (Dua Saleh).

Sex Education has always been exemplary at developing its ensemble’s intertwined arcs, with love and attention to spare for every character. This season is no exception — it doesn’t abandon Aimee (Aimee Lou Wood) after her Season 2 assault, and invites us to the inner world of Lily (Tanya Reynolds) instead of casting her aside as the token weirdo. A school trip without Eric forces Otis and Ruby (Mimi Keene) to face their history and Adam and Rahim (Sam Outalbali) to form a begrudging and intriguing bond. Everyone is learning and growing and loving and hurting and (sometimes) having sex, which is no more shameful than the rest of it, all perfectly packaged with a dynamite soundtrack and inspired direction.

In the absence of Otis’s clinic and Jean’s counseling, the sexed-up students of Moordale are at a loss. A new “Sex King” rises, doling out advice that is not only subpar but fully dangerous. Now that they’ve known a school life free of sexual stigma, the students can’t easily get Moordale “back on track” as new head teacher Hope (Jemima Kirke) desires. Hope insists she’s not like other teachers, she’s a cool teacher, but it doesn’t take long for her to devolve into Moordale’s own Dolores Umbridge with killer lipstick.

These characters have always felt real and lived-in, but three seasons on they feel like coming home.

No pun intended, given the history, but the Moordale spirit is infectious. The show is brimming with characters so endearing and vibrant that you can’t help breaking into applause for their horny heroics, romantic overtures, and cheeky acts of resistance (highlights include a wall of “historical penises,” vulva cupcakes, and some truly inspired a cappella). There are sexual milestones and epiphanies as usual, but they continue to take a backseat to friendship, romance, and the importance of self-expression in the face of antiquated authority.

Butterfield, Gatwa, and Mackey are nothing short of flawless, less of a trio now but still anchoring the show with layered, heartfelt performances. There is no scene in which Eric’s smile won’t immediately plaster one onto your face, in which Otis doesn’t disarm you with his vulnerability, or in which you don’t want the world and more for Maeve. These characters have always felt real and lived-in, but three seasons on they feel like coming home.

Otis and Eric’s friendship continues to be the show’s lifeblood, while Otis and Maeve’s situationship keeps us on our toes. A classic will-they/won’t-they could feel drawn out after all these years, but their chemistry at the clinic was among what made Sex Education so captivating in the first place. Whether they’re crushes, friends, or enemies, this continually evolving relationship continues to crackle and keep Moordale’s lights on.

Every show covets the kind of character development and narrative strength on display here, and Sex Education makes it look easy. That takes constant introspection, care, and research — the same things Otis and Maeve encourage their clients to practice for better, safer sex. It wouldn’t hurt any of us to take a few notes from the “sex school” on achieving that balance in real life.

Sex Education Season 3 is now streaming on Netflix.