Netflix’s ‘Daybreak’ sinks an ambitious premise with misguided dark comedy

This review contains major spoilers for Daybreak.

Netflix’s Daybreak details what happens after the end of the world if the only remaining sources of intelligent life are unaccompanied minors. But although that raucous premise has the potential to be entertaining, its sense of humor is misguided and off-putting. Based on the first five episodes made available to critics, Daybreak treats important topics cavalierly, which detracts from the show’s overall likability.

The sci-fi comedy series is a joyride through a post-apocalyptic wasteland. It takes place in what’s left of Glendale, California after a nuclear apocalypse, following a self-proclaimed unlikely hero named Josh Wheeler (Colin Ford) and utilizing constant flashbacks to give audiences context and a clear picture of who each of the characters were before the end of the world.  

The show’s first episode sees Josh thriving (rather than simply surviving) after the apocalypse because he is squatting in a luxurious and fully stocked apartment. Josh is flanked by Angelica (Alyvia Alyn Lind), a sadistic, hustling 10-year-old he used to babysit, and Wesley (Austin Crute), a former it-boy at the public high school Josh attended. (Angelica was a presence on campus because she dealt drugs to many of her elder peers.) 

Daybreak is relatively easy to follow because of its straight-to-camera monologues that break the fourth wall on a regular basis. It’s through one of these confessionals that Josh spells out exactly where his story begins: A “little dictator” with a “big ego” launched a “nuke with a tweet.” The nuclear fallout has a negative biological effect on everyone over the age of 18. Adults either melted or became zombies, which Josh, Wesley, Angelica, and the rest of their cohorts refer to as “ghoulies.” 

What’s left of intelligent life is almost exclusively teenaged and divided into tribes. Josh, Wesley, and Angelica frequently describe the social ordering and hierarchies that are used to categorize their place among their peers. “Us vs. them” sentiments are prominent and treated as sacred before and after the apocalypse in Daybreak. 

Glendale is ruled by a tribe of former jocks. Subservient tribes include the STEM geeks, cheerleaders, farmers, and the materialistic and topical “Disciples of Kardashia.” Although they lack the binding principles or characteristics shared by other groups, Josh, Wesley, and Angelica make up their own mini tribe based on their respective outsider statuses. Josh is a loner at heart; Angelica is much younger than her high school-aged contemporaries; and Wesley is a devout pacifist, meaning he doesn’t fit in with rampant violence that has become characteristic of post-apocalyptic Glendale. 

Indeed, each tribe (and character) in Daybreak is radically violent; everyone is against each other to ensure their own survival. Broderick’s Principal Burr — one of the few adults to survive without turning into a ghoulie, for reasons left unclear — pivots to being the villain and a ruthless cannibal after the bomb goes off. All of the tribes live in fear of Barron Triumph, Burr’s post-apocalyptic pseudonym. Josh is also searching for his girlfriend, Sam (Sophie Simnett), whom he lost when the nuclear bomb went off during a school football game.

The best part of Daybreak is its imaginative world-building, which creates an engaging and dynamic survival landscape for the characters. Josh, Wesley, and Angelica are dodging ghoulies, murderous, power-hungry jocks, and Principal Burr at all times in order to stay alive. The series keeps viewers on their toes because nothing is ever bound to go right for the three. If you like zombie-fighting, mutated animals, and dismembered, mutilated limbs, Daybreak might be worth a watch. 

While the show’s main focus is Josh, Angelica, and Wesley’s fight for survival, it also deals with themes like self-definition, identity, and belonging. Wesley and Angelica both detail their struggles with feeling out of place: Angelica as an evil genius neglected by her parents, and Wesley as a queer black man with a passion for samurai teachings. Josh doesn’t dig as deep, but it’s evident that he was bullied physically and verbally at school.

The series mindlessly traverses and bulldozes over sensibility for others in what seems to be an attempt to roast political correctness. 

Yet, despite the trio’s show of heart and empathy — such as Angelica’s sincere bond with a ghoulie worth saving (Krysta Rodriguez) and Wesley’s decision to be true to himself in ditching his jock buddies for Josh and Angelica — the series is mindlessly disrespectful of the experiences of others in what seems to be an attempt to roast political correctness.

Specifically, Daybreak’s narrative tells serious stories like Angelica’s strained relationship with her absent parents and Wesley’s experience as one of the only students of color at a predominately white high school. But the show’s sincere message just doesn’t match up with its humor, which is as below the belt as its storyline is violent. For example, the characters constantly say (and poke fun at) the term “gender neutral homecoming royalty,” instead of simply saying “homecoming royalty.” 

These sorts of subtle but incessant jabs are examples of Daybreak’s characters performing wokeness in a blatantly cynical fashion. Unfortunately, their attitudes and wisecracks aren’t helpful or progressive with regard to actual societal divisions.

Sensitive subjects are not dealt with delicately. The series includes other gags about preferred pronouns, gender identity, and U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE); twisted mentions of statutory rape and Emma Gonzalez; and uses of the word “gay” and as derogatory terms.

At one point, Angelica calls Wesley “gay” because he’s acting emotional and conflicted. She then backtracks and explains that she doesn’t mean to use the word in a negative way… but then uses it again to condemn Wesley’s behavior. The “joke” behind the entire over-explanation is that Angelica is still using the word “gay” in an outdated, pejorative way. 

In that moment and throughout the series’s countless other jabs at inclusivity, it feels like Daybreak is juggling with knives when it can’t yet handle a couple of Wiffle balls. Furthermore, hearing such derogatory and dark statements come out of kids’ mouths isn’t cute or silly. It comes off as disturbing.

Separately, Daybreak does right by audiences in creating Wesley as a deep, complex, queer, black lead. Crute’s portrayal of the character is fantastic, and Wesley is a hero sincerely worth rooting for. Plus, Daybreak showcases a queer, interracial relationship via Wesley and Turbo (Cody Kearsley), who is a former teammate of Wesley’s, and the two stay together (however secretly) after the apocalypse.

Wesley is undeniably much more likable than Josh and Angelica. Even so, he is pushed into the background until it’s almost too late. A full description of his emotional backstory is only revealed in the show’s fifth and final episode, after Josh and Angelica have both had multiple episodes to tell theirs.

Along the same vein, even though Angelica bashes the show’s reliance on Josh by calling out Daybreak’s usage of a traditional, cisgender, white, male protagonist, that doesn’t make up for Daybreak’s neglect to use Wesley — or even Angelica — as the central character instead. If anything, such an acknowledgment only further confirms Daybreak’s fatal flaw: The show proclaims an acute awareness of its problematic nature. 

But, yet again, such a proclamation doesn’t solve Daybreak’s aforementioned issues. It leaves the viewer confused why the series didn’t remedy its own hegemonic casting in the first place.

Daybreak is now available for streaming exclusively on Netflix.