A Teacher

Mara and Robinson give Fidell and fellow directors Andrew Neel and Gillian Robespierre everything they need and more to make this relationship work on screen, for all its soft moments and jagged edges. ... One of the most daring and complex series of 2020.

A Teacher is not about the guys. This is a star vehicle for two women — Mara in front of the screen and Hannah Fidell behind it. ... If you want to see a creative female mind exploring how female power, when it runs into the brick wall of societal taboo, can be self-destructive, A Teacher is your show.

Fidell, who writes the first two episodes and the finale and directs six out of 10 episodes, takes pains to make the lines blurry. Even the cinematography has an uncertain haze to it. Mara plays this up with an extraordinary multilayered performance designed to throw us off balance and at various times she leaves the viewer unsure of what to think.

As a whole piece of work, “A Teacher” is an intensive, immersive study of how abuse works and the intimate damage it can wreak. When broken up into individual episodes, though, the series stands on far more tenuous ground.

Robinson does justice to his developing identity, imparting multiple age-appropriate layers of depth: charm, intelligence, naivety, contradictory flashes of arrogance and fragility. (Mara does a fine job of portraying Claire’s selfishness and delusion, though I found Burdge’s chaotic turn more convincing.)

A Teacher is a sophisticated portrait of a villain, one that uses its 10 episodes to uncover her misdeeds—and throw them into stark relief.

There’s little about A Teacher that should feel comfortable. FX on Hulu’s latest miniseries focuses on the relationship between a teacher and her underage high school student, and creator Hannah Fidell does everything possible to sell this romance. Yet it’s that grueling feeling of discomfort that makes this miniseries work.

This A Teacher isn’t a stretched-out “five-hour movie” of her original vision, but a miniseries that feels much more fleshed-out and thought-through, with surprisingly little overlap between the two projects.

A Teacher lingers a little too long in this pre-catastrophe phase, which is surprising, given how economical Fidell is otherwise in her storytelling. ... The pensive latter episodes are the fallout, and at the center is Eric, who always had more to lose. They’ve switched places, or perhaps are finally seeing themselves for the first time. A Teacher’s lessons are all the more devastating for appearing incomplete.

Deftly handles the delicate and incendiary material without indulging in sensationalism or titillation.

Given its content, the miniseries could easily have been superficially scintillating, but instead, it’s purposefully disquieting and thoroughly disturbing, anchored by strong performances from Mara and Robinson that underscore how our gendered stereotypes are failing those who need protection most.

Robinson, with his boyish, sad-eyed beauty and quiet charm, deftly manages Eric’s transition from lovestruck kid to haunted young adult. He and Mara have a palpable chemistry (but don’t worry, folks — Robinson is 25). As Claire, Mara does her best work after the affair is exposed.

Robinson, in particular, delivers a nuanced performance in a series that could best be improved by less build-up and even more exploration of the affair’s victim.

A promising but emotionally vacant exploration of an illicit student-teacher relationship, based on an indie film of the same name.

The affecting but troubling A Teacher aims to bring more depth to this unpleasant subject and largely succeeds. [23 Nov - 6 Dec 2020, p.11]

Mara and Robinson are good leads – you can see him wilt as the years go by – but they also don’t provide enough of the why.

The confusion over how, exactly, we’re supposed to feel about Eric and Claire’s attraction, is certainly provocative, but also short-circuiting. There is plenty of room to get lost in A Teacher; I just wish it saved more for redemption.

It’s admirable, and arguably unlike most things you see on TV. Unfortunately, none of it possesses surprise and allure, much of it is deeply depressing, all of it is anticlimactic and the notions of moral obligation, and accountability supersedes the need to create compelling drama.

Not making Claire an obvious monster might be a brave choice post-#MeToo, but Fidell hasn’t made her anything else that’s particularly interesting or revealing. ... [Robinson] has more of a struggle making sense of Eric, who’s positioned as sensitive and fragile but comes across as preternaturally adult, in a way that doesn’t quite add up.

Mara and Robinson really are excellent, and the series has unsettling atmosphere to spare. But outside of some specific moments in its second half, A Teacher feels as superficial and generic as its title. There may be a great 10-episode version of this story, but this is unfortunately not it. [Nov 2020, p.73]

“A Teacher” ditches style, insight, and sexual politics for debased suburban behavior. At a time when TV embraces inventive and risky storytelling, “A Teacher” looks and feels like something that belonged on cable 10 years ago.

It all unfolds along predictably miserable lines, and confirms that there’s not really ten episodes’ worth of story here to tell. A Teacher is just an uncomfortable, frustrating viewing experience, and not in the ways it’s meant to be.

No doubt this was an accurate portrayal of the lives these characters would live. But an unwillingness to stand in judgment over Claire ultimately made for queasy viewing.