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For anyone vaguely familiar with the teen-drama-cum-supernatural-thriller genre, the opening scene of “I Am Not Okay with This” — Netflix’s new teen-drama-cum-supernatural-thriller — may ring some bells. The show opens on a wide shot of a young girl in a party dress, covered in blood, staggering alone through the night. As she passes beneath streetlight shadows, moving down an empty street and away from whatever she’s fleeing, the viewer is supposed to understand that something awful has happened, something worth running from. But beyond that, the viewer is supposed to recognize the reference to “Carrie,” Stephen King’s iconic story of a telekinetic teen who similarly rampages through her town in a blood-soaked gown. The parallels continue; in fact, the entire first season of “I Am Not Okay with This” builds on the imagery and themes of classic adolescent flicks, from “Carrie” and “It” to “The Breakfast Club.” Crucially, however, “I Am Not Okay with This” avoids becoming a stale imitation thanks to its stylized worldbuilding and vibrant performances, which combine to addicting effect.

Syndey Novak (Sophia Lillis), a 17-year-old living in small-town Pennsylvania, is attempting to process her father’s suicide and wrangle her friendship with her neighbor, Stanley (Wyatt Oleff), and attraction to her best friend, Dina (Sofia Bryant), when she realizes she has superpowers of the telekinetic variety. She’s dealing with the mundane nightmares of growing up, from her changing body to her best friend’s preoccupation with a boyfriend, while also grieving and discovering a new, unexpected nightmare: She can break things with her mind. At first, she breaks things accidentally. In moments where she experiences stress or pressure, she unleashes a wave of psychic force that explodes everything in its path — trees, bookshelves, padlocks.

The first season of “I Am Not Okay with This” follows her discovery of this talent and its origins, portraying the events leading up to the show’s opening scene. The focal point of the show, though, isn’t really the undercurrent of supernatural power. The real joy and success of the series comes in its portrayal of adolescent experience and friendship, brought to life by a cast with brilliant chemistry and easy authenticity.

Lillis, best known for her work in the similarly paranormal “It” and “Sharp Objects,” gives a wrenching performance as a troubled outcast left to shoulder the weight of her father’s death alone. The show’s initial episodes emphasize her solitude, internal and external. She’s physically alone while walking down her town’s deserted, lusciously green lanes; she’s socially alone when she sits silently across from Dina and Dina’s new boyfriend in a diner booth; she’s emotionally alone when she confides in her mother that nobody she loves seems to love her back and her mother responds, “Maybe you’re aiming too high.” Lillis’ nuanced, vulnerable portrayal of Novak keeps the viewer rooting for her even when she’s stubborn towards the people around her.

In these initial episodes, Lillis and Oleff are the reason to continue watching. Oleff delivers a needed measure of levity and charm as Stanley Barber, Novak’s bizarre neighbor. Awkwardly charismatic, Barber’s offbeat quirks defy horror-movie tropes and bring out some life in the otherwise-agonized Novak, creating an intimate and hilarious bond that drives the show forward.

The show also delivers a nuanced portrait of a teenage girl’s fraught relationship with her mother, who’s at once infuriating and sympathetic. The mother works constantly to provide for the family, leaving Novak to care for her little brother, and Novak resents her for it. Their back-and-forth feels true to real complexities of teen communication and resists a cliche version of teen angst often found in other shows.

As the show progresses, director Jonathan Entwistle offers a greater window into Barber’s life and experience, opening the fourth episode with Barber getting ready for the party where he plans to ask Sydney to homecoming. The scene, like much of the show, is exquisitely stylized; in his basement bedroom — which looks like an elaborately-decorated eighties living room — he dances around to retro rock, makes a martini, and puts on a powder-blue suit. At times, the overt aestheticism of the show dips into the unbelievable. The creators seem eager to give the show a nostalgic vibe reminiscent of “Stranger Things,” despite it being set in the present. The ubiquity of eighties-style rooms, record players, and cars make the show seem chronologically confused. Even with these anachronisms, Stanley’s character development keeps the viewer invested in his friendship with Sydney, which we see is a light in his otherwise lonely life.

Unfortunately, many of the other characters in the show do not get this same depth of characterization until later, if at all. Only 20 seconds after Novak introduces Dina in a nostalgic montage, Dina ditches her for Brad, her unlikeable football-player boyfriend. For the next several episodes, she’s absent and uninterested in Novak’s friendship; it’s only later, when she has trouble with Brad, that we see the magnetism of their friendship.

Brad, for his part, remains a one-dimensional villain, ignoring Novak and making no effort to befriend her until he briefly offers her a “truce” in the fifth episode, which ends promptly when she discovers he cheated on Dina. Other characters, from rebellious party girl Jenny Tuffield to Novak’s wise-beyond-his-years little brother, remain undeveloped, never displaying real vulnerability despite traumatic backstories.

Even with these flaws, the show is at once a nuanced portrait of the small horrors of adolescence and a shocking ode to the classic horror genre, finding bright moments in the otherwise bleak landscape of small-town boredom and family turmoil. Viewers drawn in by the supernatural element will stay for the show’s gorgeous, moving take on high school animated by authentic performances, startlingly funny writing, and gorgeous cinematography.