I Am Definitely Not Okay (With This)
TV shows come, TV shows go. It’s the way of the world. Writers strikes come, writers strikes go. That’s also the way of the world. Pandemics come, pandemics… well, become part of society. That’s certainly been the case in the past couple years, as COVID-19 made new TV and movies more expensive to shoot. Those that could absorb the costs survived. Those that couldn’t relied on the good graces of producers to see them through the storm or push them off the ledge.
“I Am Not Okay With This,” based on a graphic novel by Charles Forsman, bowed on Netflix on February 26, 2020, just before the world came to an ear-grinding, crashing halt. Which, as anyone who weathered that moment will tell you, was not a bad time to find a show and burrow into it. “Tiger King,” Netflix’s lurid documentary which dropped March 20, 2020, benefited from everyone being inside and having almost nothing else to talk about. For the YA set that became enamored of Netflix’s hit “The End of the Fucking World,” a British import which dropped in October 2017 and was also based on a Forsman comic, the release of “I Am Not Okay With This” was cause for celebration. With a cast of actual teenagers playing teenagers, including Sophia Lillis and Wyatt Oleff (fresh off the success of “It, Chapter One”), the show checked several boxes: it was a coming-of-age story, a coming out story, and the tale of a reluctant, would-be superhero. The show holds an 86% from critics, and an 85% from audiences on Rotten Tomatoes. It made Ms. Mojo’s top 10 teen shows for 2020. On The Playlist, Charles Barfield opined, “While the ‘80s-esque teen comedy outer shell is likely enough to attract plenty of casual viewers, what will keep people invested is how ‘I Am Not Okay With This’ offers a poignant emotional heart and soul that isn’t found in most attempts at regurgitating the supernatural/coming of age formula.”
The plaudits were well-earned. The show, set in a blue collar town in Pennsylvania, is well-written, well-observed, well-acted, superbly directed (by showrunner Jonathan Entwistle), and painful as hell. The relationships are touching and cringey, which is as it should be for a show about teens. Our lead, and the show’s narrator, is Sydney “Syd” Novak (Lillis), an introvert whose dad, a former Marine, has committed suicide. She and her little brother Liam (Aidan Wojtak-Hissong) are being raised by their mom (Kathleen Rose Perkins), who works long hours as a waitress in order to provide for the family. Syd’s best friend is Dina (Sofia Bryant), a “cool girl” and cheerleader who’s dating one of the school’s top jocks, Brad Lewis (Richard Ellis), whom Syd detests.
Oh, and Syd can control things with her mind.
Then there’s Stanley (Oleff), a kid whose funky fashion sense is outdone only by his self-confidence. Steeped in nerd culture, he’s the first to recognize Syd’s powers, and the first to encourage Syd to use them for good. He’s convinced that such abilities can be harnessed and used to make the world a better place, as the kids say, IRL.
But there’s a dark side to Syd’s abilities. When she gets angry, which happens a lot, she destroys things with her mind, or at least makes things fall down. Without getting too spoilery, Syd’s powers wreak havoc on school property, fling humans through the air, and worst of all, land her and the entire crew in detention. It’s clear that the powers are a reaction to the world around her, and to her own behavior. When she learns someone is bullying Liam, she takes revenge on his tormentor; when she begins to show affection towards another character, and things backfire, she expresses her embarrassment by knocking down an entire forest.
Stanley’s also on his own. Seemingly the only kid in town with offbeat taste in movies, music, and TV, he sticks out like a sore thumb wherever he goes. His rough-hewn dad (Mark Barber) never leaves the couch and has no clue how to relate to his oddball son.
Given their outsider status, it’s almost inevitable that Stanley and Syd would be drawn to each other. What transpires between them is achingly real, and will evoke painful memories for anyone who’s fallen for the wrong person. But that’s part of the show’s magic: Entwistle and co-showrunner Christy Hall know these characters — what makes them tick, what upsets them, and what makes them deliriously happy. The joy of “I Am Not Okay With This” is its rawness: scenes that depict the acne on Syd’s legs become strange, touching points of connection between Syd, Stanley, and the viewers.
Crucially, Syd is confused about her sexuality, and, lacking adequate counseling at home or at school, is unable to cope with the emotions this raises. This uncertainty is one of the primary drivers of “I’m Not Okay With This,” with Syd’s out of control powers serving as a stand-in for her changing mind and body. At first, believing she should be “normal,” she gives in to Stanley’s charms and the two consummate their friendship. But something’s off for Syd. The experience didn’t make her feel as she expected. Turns out, she’s got her eye on someone else, and has no idea how to make that happen. In the meantime, she’s being followed by a mysterious entity, and starting to learn about what drove her father to end his life. As the show speeds towards a shockingly violent conclusion that plays out like a contemporary homage to “Scanners” and “Carrie,” Syd’s powers, the identity of the entity, and her romantic inclinations, all come into focus. A cliffhanger ending leaves us craving more.
Netflix canceled the show in August 2020.
Reader, I loved this show. It’s rare to find a show on Netflix, a network brimming with subpar content to suit every demographic, that feels so real, so honest and charming in its writing, characters, and storyline. Yes, the show’s logline includes words like “sci fi” and “superhero.” But you don’t need to appreciate the MCU or the DCEU to understand what’s happening here. While Syd’s powers may have real-world, unintended consequences, everything can be read as the projection of a scared, confused teen. We empathize with Syd and Stanley because, like it or not, we’ve been there.
Unfortunately, there will be no season two. Staring down a pandemic and a looming writer’s strike, Netflix was unwilling to sink money into a show that wasn’t drawing the numbers of “Tiger King.” As Entwistle told Insider, “We just realized that to COVID-proof the show was going to cost a lot more money. I’ve seen a few people talking and the figures are about right: It’s anywhere between $5 to $10 million per season of television for the PPE, and for the testing, and for the systematic changes with which to make it safer. Or it definitely was that at the time.”
Netflix’s confusing algorithm also played a role in securing the show’s future. Entwistle again: “I think there are calculations within Netflix where they’re just like ‘cost of show versus value,’ and not necessarily number of viewers because it’s more complex than that with Netflix. We had amazing viewing figures for a show of that size. If you put [‘I Am Not Okay With This’] on Hulu it would be mind blowing, but on Netflix it wasn’t that impressive.” The showrunners raised the prospect of delaying production, but Netflix wouldn’t pick up the tab for keeping the actors involved.
It was the death knell for a project that cost all of $15 million for three and a half hours of television — approximately the cost of the pilot episode of “Game of Thrones.”
What makes me sadder than anything is that Netflix, which I still remember as a company that used to rent DVDs through the mail, lost a show that was, as Kim Renfro pointed out in Insider, connecting with its audience. “TV shows often need room to breathe before they become truly great — just look at ‘Game of Thrones’ or ‘Schitt’s Creek.’” Dan Levy himself pointed this out in a September 2020 tweet:
Renfro went on to comment, “Netflix is disregarding the smaller but powerful fandoms it’s creating, where people are left crying out for show renewals.”
Look, I get it. Business is business. But great writing, acting, and directing — even when based on other properties — have to count for something as well. If Netflix is going to continue canceling promising shows before they’ve had the chance to blossom because an algorithm tells them not to sink marketing dollars into promotion, they’re going to drain the network of its most meaningful content (and some will argue this has already happened). It may be too late for “I Am Not Okay With This.” But maybe, just maybe, the outpouring of love for these canceled shows will cause Netflix to rethink its flawed adjudication process.
P.S. As a tribute to this brilliant show, we include a clip from the “detention” scene in every episode of the Scare U podcast.
