What does it mean to ‘grow up?’ As a college student, this seems like an essential and painfully pressing question that no one knows how to answer. Does it mean becoming self-sufficient without the support of your parents? Does it mean actualizing a career out of a degree you worked tirelessly to obtain? Is there a marker for it — some event or moment that lets you know you have finally crossed the threshold into the next chapter of your life? Is there even an answer to the question? That’s where Benito Skinner, Rebecca Shaw and Ben Kronengold come in.
All born from internet stardom and a world of rapidly decreasing attention spans, these three individuals attempted to depict young people whose lives are in flux, and — if I do say so myself — they beautifully succeeded. Kronengold and Shaw, a couple and comedy duo, first received online recognition from their viral 2018 Yale Graduation Speech and then for being writers on “The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon.” They developed the show now known as “Adults” following the experiences of a group of friends in their twenties. The two pitched the show originally under the name “Snowflakes,” satirizing the current stereotypes of Generation Z and millennials being overly sensitive in 2021, and then the show was picked up by FX in 2024. Skinner, known online as BennyDrama7, began posting comedy skits and impressions on his social media around 2016, and originally developed “Overcompensating” as a live show in 2018. Skinner was able to take the live show and turn it into a long-form television show when Amazon Studios started developing it in 2022, and the series was officially picked up in 2024.
When I watched “Adults” over the summer, the first thing I noticed was how different it was from any other show on streaming that targets young people. “Adults” is reminiscent of sitcoms like “Friends,” “Girls” or “Sex and The City,” but still feels completely different. Though it centers on a group of friends, there’s no forced plot, no moral arc and no true character development. And though this sounds boring, I found myself glued to my computer for the two and half hours required to binge the entire program. The show felt real, not only because the characters are only a few years older than me, but because I saw myself and my own friend group reflected in them. Samir’s struggles with bills and remembering his social security number felt like learning how to live on your own in college; Anton’s “friend-slut-ness” captured the urge to make connections only to end up lonelier; Billie is the part of us constantly worrying about the future. The show’s goal was less obvious to me, something rare in television. In “Friends,” the gang lounges in a coffee shop for 10 seasons aching to be married. “Sex and The City” places us well after the careers of the main characters are established, and the cast of “Girls” have clear ambitions. In “Adults,” the characters only seem to want to live up to the show’s name. Perhaps its most successful element — and why it appeals to a younger audience — is how it portrays the liminal space between college graduation and whatever comes next. Each episode gives the characters a small, disconnected problem that feels both microscopic and massive (a kiss unraveling the group, a medical emergency, a dinner party). “Adults” doesn’t dress up the mundaneness of its story. You can decide how you want to feel about it, but the fact that it is so painfully real makes caring about the characters and the world feel like an obligation.
Adulthood is also elusive for the main characters of “Overcompensating,” Benny and Carmen. Benny grew up a football player in Idaho, and when we meet Carmen, she is mourning the loss of her brother. Both of them are thrown into the chaos of their first year of college, and in a decision stemming from hookup culture, unsuccessfully attempt to have sex with each other. This leads to Benny coming out to Carmen, and the two becoming best friends. In “Overcompensating,” the idea of ‘growing up’ in a college setting is further complicated with Benny navigating his queer identity, alongside all other college students who are trying to come into their own. “Overcompensating” is not always comfortable to watch, but only because the awkwardness of the first year of college is all too real for most viewers, especially those who are experiencing it at the moment. “Overcompensating,” like “Adults,” trusts that its audience members are self-aware, socially fluent and smart. This means you cannot truly appreciate the show if you have a closed mind. You have to understand that the characters are going to make mistakes and are going to say and do the wrong things constantly.
Critics often lump “Adults” and “Overcompensating” in with other Gen Z shows simply because of their creators’ ages, but the two have almost nothing in common with that supposed ilk. Where “Euphoria” overly dramatizes high school and “Never Have I Ever” narrows its entire premise to getting into Princeton, “Adults” and “Overcompensating” insist on something quieter, stranger and more honest. Everything feels less serious, less moralized. The creators aren’t trying to deliver lessons on how to live, and they certainly aren’t interested in politicizing their stories. With extremely diverse casts, both shows make it clear they aren’t here to impress anyone. They’re weary of and reject the constant ‘social justice talk’ that seeps into daily life and polices every thought. As Issa from “Adults” memorably says, “We are in a post-De Blasio, pre-‘Avatar 3’ moment. We have to live!” What both series really explore is the mess of growing up for young people who are overstimulated, underemployed, deeply online and unsure how to distinguish between love, codependency and shared bedroom spaces. Their love is complicated and genuine — even when they betray one another, it remains pure. Most of all, the shows embrace the okay-ness of being stuck: crises unheroic, coping mechanisms absurd, yet always painfully human.
