Television shows usually try to sell us a lie about being a teenager. They give us 30-year-olds with perfect skin and witty dialogue that sounds like it was written by a room of cynical Ivy League grads. But then there’s The End of the Fing World*. It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s quiet. Honestly, it’s one of the few pieces of media that actually understands the suffocating weight of trauma without making it feel like a "very special episode" of a 90s sitcom.
James thinks he’s a psychopath. Alyssa is just bored and angry. Together, they steal a car and drive away from their lives. It sounds like a cliché road trip movie, but it quickly devolves into something much darker and more human.
The show, based on Charles Forsman’s graphic novel, hit Netflix and Channel 4 like a lightning bolt. It didn't care about being liked. It cared about being true. When you look at the landscape of teen dramas today—from Euphoria to Sex Education—you can see the DNA of James and Alyssa everywhere.
Why James and Alyssa aren't your typical protagonists
Most people get this show wrong by assuming it's a romanticization of mental illness. It isn't. James, played with a terrifyingly blank stare by Alex Lawther, starts the series by killing small animals. He’s looking for something to feel. Anything. Then he meets Alyssa (Jessica Barden), a girl who uses her mouth like a weapon because she's terrified of being ignored.
They are broken.
The brilliance of the writing lies in how it handles James’s "psychopathy." As the story progresses, we realize he isn't a monster; he’s a kid who witnessed a horrific trauma—his mother’s suicide—and froze his heart to survive. This isn't just a plot point. It’s a clinical reality for many survivors of early childhood trauma. Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, author of The Body Keeps the Score, often talks about how trauma shuts down the emotional processing centers of the brain. James is a walking, talking example of that shutdown.
Alyssa is the opposite. She’s all fire. Her rebellion isn't just teenage angst; it’s a desperate cry for her father’s attention. She’s living in a house with a stepfather who is, frankly, a predator, and a mother who chooses to look the other way.
The visual language of the apocalypse
The show looks like a postcard from a town you never want to visit. Director Jonathan Entwistle and cinematographer Justin Brown used a 4:3 aspect ratio for the first season’s promos and a very specific, saturated color palette that feels like a 1970s American road movie set in a damp British suburb. It’s jarring. It’s beautiful.
The music? Essential. Graham Coxon of Blur handled the soundtrack, and it’s basically its own character. It uses folk, garage rock, and doo-wop to create a sense of timelessness. You don't know if it’s 1965 or 2017. That’s intentional. Being a teenager feels like being stuck in an era that never ends.
That Season 1 finale and the risk of Season 2
When the first season ended on that beach in the Isle of Sheppey, most fans thought that was it. James runs. A gunshot rings out. Black screen. It was perfect.
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Adding a second season was a massive gamble.
Writer Charlie Covell took a huge risk by jumping forward two years. Season 2 isn't a road trip; it’s a funeral. It deals with the aftermath of killing a serial killer in self-defense. Most shows would move on to the next adventure. The End of the Fing World* makes you sit in the mud of the consequences.
Enter Bonnie. Naomi Ackie’s performance as a woman obsessed with the man James and Alyssa killed is haunting. It adds a layer of "cycles of abuse" that many viewers found uncomfortable. Bonnie was groomed. She was lied to. Her presence forces James and Alyssa to confront the fact that their "grand adventure" actually destroyed lives, even if the person they killed deserved it.
Some things you might have missed:
- The show was originally a series of self-published comics by Charles Forsman.
- Each episode is only about 20 minutes long, making it feel more like a long movie than a traditional series.
- The "American" vibe is a stylistic choice to mirror James and Alyssa’s desire to escape their British reality.
- The title is literal and metaphorical—the world doesn't end, but their childhoods do.
Handling the "Psychopath" label
Let's talk about the clinical side of James. In the beginning, he says, "I'm pretty sure I'm a psychopath." But true psychopathy, or Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD), usually involves a total lack of empathy and a penchant for manipulation.
James actually has too much empathy. He’s just buried it.
By the end of the series, James is the one holding Alyssa together. He becomes the protector. This shift is what makes the show so resonant for people who feel "weird" or "broken." It suggests that your labels don't have to be your destiny. It’s a message of hope wrapped in a very dark, blood-stained package.
The impact on the "Teen Drama" genre
Before this show, teen dramas were often glossy. The End of the F*ing World proved that audiences—especially Gen Z and Millennials—wanted something grittier. They wanted to see the dirt under the fingernails.
It paved the way for shows like I Am Not Okay With This (also based on a Forsman comic) and even influenced the pacing of shorter-form streaming content. It respected the viewer's intelligence. It didn't over-explain. If you didn't get why Alyssa was screaming at a waiter, that was on you.
Actionable insights for fans and creators
If you’re a storyteller or just someone who loves the series, there are actual lessons to take away from how this show was built and why it worked.
1. Lean into the "Small" Moments
The most powerful scenes in the show aren't the car crashes or the murders. They are the quiet moments in diners where two people fail to say what they mean. If you're writing, focus on subtext. What is the character not saying?
2. Music is 50% of the Story
Don't just pick "cool" songs. Graham Coxon’s score works because it reflects the internal chaos of the characters. If you're a content creator, think about the "vibe" of your audio as much as your visuals.
3. Authenticity over Likability
Alyssa is often "unlikeable." She’s rude, impulsive, and occasionally cruel. But she’s real. We live in an era of "sanitized" protagonists. Breaking that mold is how you stand out in a crowded market.
4. Respect the Ending
The series ended after two seasons. There was no Season 3. No spin-off. No "James and Alyssa in New York." By walking away, the creators preserved the integrity of the story. In business and art, knowing when to stop is a superpower.
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5. Explore the Source Material
If you haven't read Charles Forsman’s original graphic novel, do it. It’s even darker than the show. Seeing how a creator adapts a sparse, minimalist comic into a lush TV series is a masterclass in adaptation.
The show isn't really about the end of the world. It’s about the end of the version of yourself that you created to survive. Once the mask falls off, you're left with someone messy, vulnerable, and probably a little bit scared. And that’s okay.