On another dark and endless January afternoon during my final year of high
school, I came across a series of Tumblr posts all with the same ubiquitous
hashtag: SKAM (shame in Norwegian). The posts showed gifs and stills of Nordic
adolescents. All of them adorned in layers of clothing that were a fashion
statement, but also a necessary precaution of living in Norway. Cool looking hats,
beautiful but plainly teenage people with all the charm that’s lacking in American
high school television – but that’s another topic for another day. Needless to say,
my freshly edge of seventeen self, was instantly enamored as I flew through the
show’s first three seasons. Shoutout google drive with English subtitles.
Fast forward to the burdens and unwanted freedoms of being 23, where
I’ve found myself on the continuous search for a similar tv show that had the
patience, subtlety, and picture perfect angst of life as a high schooler. SKAM
created a web of relatable, three-dimensional characters – all of whom crave the
quintessential experiences of high school. Finding and falling for that first love,
and then having your heartbroken, slowly or to the tune of being blindsided by an
oncoming tractor trailer. Navigating the ins and outs of friend groups – some of
which you outgrow even when you don’t want to. Breaking away from the
constraints of your family, only to find yourself remiss once you’ve left behind
what you thought you didn’t need. Learning to stick up for yourself, learning how
to fail, and try, try, again.
SKAM understood how to use a camera with intimacy. Every scene sucks
you in – whether it’s navigating the sounds and sights of a high school party or a
flurry of text messages sent with the wrong connotation. SKAM wielded the
power of being understated – something that the majority of teen tv has
forgotten (Friday Night Lights, you may be Paramore’s only exception).
But in the year of our lord, 2021, a new show emerged. Also with
Scandinavian roots, but this time out of Sweden, Young Royals. What’s better
than a high school show? A high school show set at a boarding school, in
Sweden’s countryside, of course. When the Royal Family’s youngest prince,
Wilhelm, gets in trouble for picking fights on a night out, his family decides he
needs some time at Charm school. The British version of Eton, Hillerska, which is
full of posh students whose parents make up the upper echelon of Nordic society.
Willy is full of angst and resentment – he didn’t ask to be born into his
Royal family. Despite his attempts to ignore this, he sticks out as either the guy
every girl wants to get with, or the friend that every guy wants to please. Oh, and, because why not, Willy is gay. So there you have it, fish out of water (sort of), gay
yearning (Willy’s crushing on a “middle-class” day student), and all the romance
that comes with youthful Swedish accents in blazers that either row crew or ride
horses for their extra curriculars.
There’s a whole ensemble of (mostly) complex characters at Hillerska. But
the main source of drama stems from what is acceptable for Willy to do as the
freshest face of his Royal family. Young Royals measures up as best it can to the
glorious Skam. Both shows tackle figuring out your sexuality, learning why you
shouldn’t lie to your friends, depression, anxiety, managing just how much you
can disappoint your parents, and of course, figuring out who the hell you are.
Honorable mentions include: are drugs fun/worth it? And Eating disorders are
debilitating for girls and boys.
One way Young Royals adds dimension is by exploring family dynamics –
from dead-beat Dads to the fragility of siblinghood. Skam conspicuously lacks
these relationships. With the exception of its final season, there are little to no
actual parental figures or siblings that we care about, or that physically exist in
the universe (texting messages do not fully count). Willy and his older brother
care deeply for one another. Then there’s Simon and his sister Sara – who both
want very different things out of their high school experience. And Simon’s
mother gets the MVP award for most involved parent in either of these Nordic
worlds. Meanwhile, Willy’s parents are more of a dark shadow than a helpful
presence.
To SKAM’s credit, the lack of blood family only emphasizes just how
important the friendships the characters have found in one another are. It also
paints a picture of isolation that is fitting to one’s teenage years, but also to the
culture of Norway as a whole. And therein lies the heart of what sets these two
shows apart from the American likes of Gossip Girl, The O.C. One Tree Hill etc.
They aren’t made by Americans! We all have subtitles on anyway, learn to deal
with listening to a foreign language while you read in English.
SKAM had scripts for their episodes, but the majority of the scenes were
roughly outlined and the actors were left to their devices to make it work. The
results are wonderful – teenagers are awkward, but when you have a crush you
can stumble into being charming. Young Royals applied a similar approach, but
there is that je ne sais quos Netflix filter that is unfortunately undeniable.
However, at its best, Young Royals falls back to just letting the actors lead the
way.
This go with the flow TV making approach has been used before – most
successfully by Mr. Peter Berg – thank you Friday Night Lights. But with the
quantity over quality approach that pretty much every streamer has attempted to
champion – this style seems to be a dying breed.
SKAM galloped so Young Royals could jump the fence. It’s my hope that the
likes of Julie Andem (SKAM Showrunner) and Lisa Ambjörn (Young Royals
creator/head writer) filter their way through more media. Or that they just make
more shows! But in the meantime, what they created will exist for as long as the
internet does. And you, or I, are just one click away from entering Nordic angsty
paradise for the first, or hundredth time.
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