Horny Rich Teens on TV Are a Universal Language

When the category is “rich horny teens,” television rarely fails.

From the dawn of “Beverly Hills 90210” to the heyday of “The O.C.” to our current era of “Euphoria” and more, filmmakers are clearly enamored with the lifestyles of the rich, famous, and too-young-to-know-better. Netflix’s latest addition to this glut of raunchy rebellion is “Class,” a Hindi adaptation of the streamer’s Spanish-language original series “Elite” from producer Ashim Ahluwalia.

Set at a wealthy private school in New Delhi, “Class” chronicles the unraveling of a delicately balanced coterie of upperclassmen after the addition of three new scholarship students. Dheeraj (Piyush Khati), Saba (Madhyama Segal), and Balli (Cwaayal Singh) throw Hampton International into freefall, forcing the supercilious student body to face down their most unsettling desires, biases, and foibles. Months after their arrival, a student has been murdered, and everyone is a suspect.

Though taken from “Elite,” the premise of “Class” fits seamlessly into urban India, where caste and religion absorb the upper classes, where subplots about crime and corruption draw on finely honed Hindi films of the same genre. Thanks to existing source material with an established tone — and the Netflix stamp with its global reach — “Class” exudes more confidence than adult-focused Hindi shows like “Four More Shots, Please” or movies like “Veere Di Wedding,” which also include freewheeling cursing, drugs, and sexual references. While those titles also dealt with privileged (and light-skinned) urban Indian socialites, “Class” has awareness baked into its premise and no interest in shying away from the ugliness of wealth disparity.

Cwaayal Singh, Madhyama Segal, and Piyush Khati in “Class”

Sachin Soni/Netflix

In a January interview with The New Yorker, Netflix’s global head of television Bela Bajaria joked that the series would have “less sex” than Elite, likely alluding to India’s cultural standards (and a vigilant censor board who crack down on movies) — but making something sexy without explicitly depicting sex is old hat for Indian filmmakers. From the Bollywood neck sniff to potent cuts of telling body language and steamy eye contact, there are countless ways to make “less sex” more sexy — and “Class” gets full marks on that front. The show includes cybersex, voyeurism, open relationships, and clandestine hookups — all of which are essential to today’s horny rich teen TV climate — and does so without so much as slipping a nip.

“Class” is also a rare opportunity for its young cast and Indian entertainment at large, where adolescence is barely touched upon in television or film. Romantic movies are almost always centered on 20-somethings and filled out by older adults, with scarcely an onscreen teen in sight (although they’re expected to be in the audience). Even “Dil Bechara,” the Hindi remake of beloved teen romance “The Fault in Our Stars” was adapted to be about college students instead of high schoolers. Only a handful of Indian TV has ever actually centered teens — and, until recently, most narrative TV was daytime soaps — the thinking often being that young people were not in charge of family viewing or paying for cable and movie tickets. Streaming and social media have revealed how lucrative this audience can be if drawn to the right story.

In another time, the cast of “Class” would be competing against each other to be Bollywood’s Next Hot Young Hero and Heroine, but here they get to thrive as an ensemble instead of throwing their hats into an already saturated arena. And thrive they do — individually as well. Though the pilot introduces close to a dozen characters, they carve their own niches quickly, with daring, committed performances. Singh’s Balli makes an immediate impression, (like Ranveer Singh in “Band Baaja Baaraat” dialed up to 11), while others like Segal and Chayan Chopra deliver more understated, emotionally driven arcs. Though less prominent, you’ll struggle to take your eyes off Ayesha Kanga as Yashika, the class’ resident queen bee and petulant mean girl who doesn’t miss a bratty beat.

The series has been well–reviewed and received by fans online, including many outside of India who watched “Elite” first. The reaction from Indian viewers suggests pleasant surprise (and the occasional pearl-clutching) that the subject matter earns such a striking spotlight without turning into the soaps of yesteryear or the films about adults. “Class” is not just about young people; it’s clearly written for and performed by its target demographic, to grand effect.

In the United States, Asians (including Indians) were once painted as the “model minority.” “Class” isn’t actively fighting that — Indians aren’t exactly a minority in New Delhi — but it contributes to the overall dismantling of a global stereotype as it joins the widely accessible Netflix library. Horny rich teens flourish all over the world, partying and hooking up and getting away with petty crimes (plus the occasional murder). With “Class,” Indian teens finally get to behave as badly on-screen as their counterparts from all over the map — and maybe even some real-life ones.

“Class” is now streaming on Netflix.

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