Quinn Shephard's The Body arrives as a gleefully camp addition to the high school drama canon, and for good reason. Set on Halloween 2004 at St Mark's Catholic school, the Netflix series taps into something genuinely compelling about teenage girlhood: the collision between religious authority and sexual awakening, between social hierarchy and authentic desire. When an ecstasy-fuelled Satan-baiting initiation ritual at an abandoned convent leaves Grace comatose and the Lions experiencing hallucinations and seizures, the show's central question emerges with real force. But the eight-episode run stretches this premise thinner than it deserves.
The performances from relative newcomers Kristina Bogic, Sara Boustany, and Geena Meszaros elevate familiar stereotypes into something ragged and real. Anya's denial over her attraction to Elise, Elise's increasing torture by rejection, and Lisbeth's desperate manipulation into the inner circle all pulse with authentic adolescent desperation. These aren't cardboard cutouts—they're recognizably human in their confusion and cruelty. The show understands what many teen dramas miss: that psychological torment during adolescence rivals any supernatural threat.
The 2004 setting deserves praise for its specificity. Instant messaging, text speak, diamante slogans on velour, The Simple Life on television, and a soundtrack featuring Kelly Clarkson, Ciara, and Sean Paul create a visceral time capsule for millennials. This wasn't just a different era—it was a deeply confusing period for young women navigating sexuality before social media went global. The show recognizes this and uses the nostalgia effectively, sometimes making the retro details more unsettling than any demonic hallucination.
Yet here's where The Body stumbles: it doesn't need to be eight episodes long. The pacing is sluggish, and the show often indulges moments that don't earn their screen time. The stoner lads who loiter on the sidelines are considerably less interesting than the girls carrying the narrative, yet they linger in scenes that could tighten considerably. For streaming audiences accustomed to tightly plotted series, The Body tests patience despite its moreish qualities.
As a queer-centric exploration that channels Mean Girls through the lens of Carol Morley's The Falling, The Body succeeds in delivering more genuine teen feeling than shows like Euphoria. It pulses with angst, lust, cruelty, and deep shame, reveling in how genuinely unholy coming of age can be. The central insight—that adolescence and religion share similar all-consuming, euphoric, and dangerous qualities—resonates throughout. Shephard, who created Under the Bridge, clearly understands brutal adolescent whiplash. She just needs to trust her material enough to let it breathe without padding.