Reviews by:
@thefilmobservatory
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Teen/Drama
After teen drug addict Rue (Zendaya) emerges from rehab, she and her classmates deal with the
whirlwind of drugs, sex, and falling in and out of love, making up their lives at high school.
If there’s one thing that Sam Levinson’s teen hit Euphoria has always managed to be, it’s a show of
extremes, which does nicely tie into its name, partly literally as well as somewhat ironically. I will say
that season 1 and the special episodes achieve the balancing act of finding a common ground for the
tone impressively, especially compared to season 2, which is an overall mess of a script for a TV
series, albeit one that I largely still enjoyed watching. From start to finish, the (rightfully so) Emmy-
winning Zendaya is undeniably the glue holding it together even through some of the rougher
moments, in easily her strongest turn to date. With her and many others’ brutally honest performances, Levinson’s consistent writing-directing, phenomenal cinematography and creative music, season 1 of Euphoria feels like a clever yet also deeply personal project, to the point where it could have opted to have wrapped up storylines to end it as a limited series and I would’ve been perfectly happy with it. Then, I watched the specials and both were fantastic, leaving me excited for what season 2 had in store. If only they hadn’t given me so much hope… in all seriousness, I don’t think that Euphoria’s sophomore season is bad, and there are certain elements that remind me of how fresh and brilliant the show can be. However, it does give the impression that Levinson had conceived season 1 like a tightly crafted film, with narratives and themes smoothly interlocking, but didn’t know what to do with the characters and setup he’d created after then. Season 2 demonstrated that Euphoria’s extremes can unfortunately damage and oscillate the quality of the show too but, anyway, let’s start with the good, the great and the not as great but still good of season 1!
Season 1 of Euphoria is broadly a strong and distinctive season of TV, starting with our protagonist,
Rue Bennett. While narration can feel like a lazy and uninventive technique, Zendaya’s dry charisma makes it really work, with some of the funniest sequences of the show being witty cutaways to, for example, Rue as a teacher, basically addressing the audience, classifying the trustworthiness and reliability of ‘explicit pictures’, and another where she, during a manic episode, visualises her friend and herself as a Freeman-Pitt-style detective duo trying to figure out a (superficial) mystery at the
school. Why does she seem to be an omniscient god of her area in knowing all her classmates’ backstories for the cold opens? I honestly have no idea but they’re entertaining and I’ll get to what’s
great about those later. Back to Zendaya: she’s heart-wrenching and simply phenomenal in this
show, consistently presenting a realistically painful and tumultuous depiction of drug addiction.
Rue’s actions can absolutely be mean, selfish and unfair yet never feel random for her character and
we still root for her, as her conversations with Jules (Hunter Schafer) and ex-addict Ali (Colman
Domingo) shed light on what it’s like to be Rue Bennett, why she is the way she is, but also that she’s
not past redemption and recovery. Euphoria is emotionally poignant often through how much time
we spend with Rue, who suffers from long-term depression, frequently self-deprecates when she
feels that she’s letting those close to her down, and unhealthily relies on others for any glimpse of
happiness, a toll which we see fall heavily on some in particular, despite the fact that clearly nobody
is inherently in the wrong. The central relationship between Rue and Jules feels brutally emotional,
as the potence of their bond consistently feels like a major swaying factor being the most important element of their lives for them. This dynamic’s initial culmination at the end of episode 4 is sublime,
however, Zendaya also makes it evident that she’s just as strong a performer on her own, such as her more subdued monologue in episode 1 about the moment of freedom and relief that she feels that drugs allow her, and the heavy final scene of the first season, that encapsulates all the nihilism of the show, while Rue arguably still feels like the most human character around, by her heart-breaking yet powerful arc. (Also, the latter is the moment that Labrinth blessed us with his genius fusion of choir singing and rap in ‘All For Us’ so it gets bonus points for that).
Another major plus for season 1 is the simple yet massively effective use of the cold opens. For those who haven’t seen the show, each episode essentially begins by exploring one of the main characters’ backstories in a whistle-stop tour of their lives up to the point of the present setting, and then focusing that particular episode on them more than usual. This is really important to how the show functions because high schoolers’ actions can often be unpredictable and seem strange, however, Euphoria helps us understand why they may react so strongly in some situations, therefore preventing them from becoming confusing, underdeveloped caricatures. Possibly the best example is the presentation of football (the crappy American kind) jock Nate Jacobs (Jacob Elordi) who’s nasty and quick-tempered, often verging on acting as the show’s villain. However, Nate isn’t a boring or derivative presence, as Elordi delivers a rich performance consistently enhanced by Levinson’s writing, as toxic masculinity, internalised homophobia and an immensely broken dynamic with his father, Cal (Eric Dane) become imbued in his character so that the audience can practically feel his rage boiling beneath the surface. While Nate’s an aggressive bully, it’s important to note that his anger is largely “beneath the surface” because the most terrifying thing about him in season 1 is that he isn’t simply a brutish ‘knucklehead’: he’s coldly calculating, using his physicality and status to intimidate others in plans to keep him always in control. Apart from that one showstopping moment in episode 7 when his character, all the way from early memories in the cold open to the present, is done building up the tension and it finally explodes: fantastic stuff from Elordi. My overall point about the cold opens is that they never feel throwaway, rather all are fundamental and work in tandem with the character explorations to provide much depth necessary to make and keep us invested. And props to Labrinth for the wonderfully unique music that scores them, with the energetic and encapsulating ‘Nate Growing Up’ probably being my favourite for the openings.
Euphoria is not always a particularly realistic depiction of high school, however, I feel that Zendaya consistently grounds it enough for me to let this slide and set it apart from other teen dramas. It also helps that it’s an ambitious series in the amount of heavy topics it’s tackling, with some of the most prominent apart from the obvious being toxic relationships and domestic abuse in Maddy’s (Alexa Demie) storyline, toxic masculinity with college student McKay (Algee Smith, who was gone from the show too soon in season 2!), and the complexities of gender identity and transitioning for Jules.
Overall, they’re treated with enough nuance and sensitivity that I really appreciate how raw yet meaningful the show manages to be. Other standouts in the supporting cast include Angus Cloud’s loveably caring yet contrastingly dangerous drug dealer Fezco and Kat (Barbie Ferreira), who begins as one of the popular clique but whose story goes in a wildly different and unique direction that manages to be enjoyable and empowering. An advantage of the genre for this show is the way that the suburban high school setting allows everyone’s lives to feel intertwined so that the story can cross over and feel super coherent, a satisfying effect and payoff that’s especially present in season 1’s carnival episode. Cinematographer Marcell Rév, who’s been the main D.O.P. on the show, captures this particularly well in an impressively crafted, lengthy single shot moving around the carnival to span across pretty much all our main characters to concisely introduce where they are and the setup for the episode. I won’t go on for long about the cinematography because I won’t have anything to say that’s not already been celebrated in a few thousand film/TV buffs’ video essays about this show on YouTube, however, I must confirm that the framing, colour gradients, lighting and choices of shots are just as remarkable as they all say. The camera possesses this energy in its movement like no other show that I’ve seen recently, with enough whip pans to make it feel like its own character, while also being unusual and psychedelic at times, for example, during party sequences. Hollywood producers would be wise to have Rév on their radar, as he’s clearly a talent.
As for season 1’s weaknesses, I only have a small list: episodes 6-8 get into some slightly soapy stuff that doesn’t always gel with Rue’s storyline and the heavier themes, which make it lose a bit of its steam, and some of the high school stuff simply isn’t as compelling as Zendaya’s work. However, there isn’t too much to detract from the highs of Euphoria’s initial season, and I would have no doubts in strongly recommending giving the show a go, if I was only talking about season 1.
The specials continue what worked in season 1 and, for me, take it to the next level, as we are treated with two intimate character studies that seamlessly bridge the first and second season. After the dramatic ending of season 1, it was a wise move to take some time to reflect and examine our protagonists to avoid any distance between them and their actions from the audience, and I really appreciate that nearly the whole runtime of each episode is spent on two characters talking in a room, leaving the writing and acting to do all the work, both of which are stellar. Rue’s episode sees her meeting with NA sponsor Ali on Christmas Eve and is a sublimely executed discussion about addiction, religion, identity and potential for redemption, and what actually matters in life beyond superficiality. Zendaya and Domingo share phenomenal chemistry with the latter passing on his lessons from experience as an ex-addict in an unpretentious human way, as no bulls*** gets past the charismatic and honest Ali. Their dynamic is always a pleasure to watch, and this episode is pretty much peak Euphoria. While Jules’ special episode didn’t quite pack the same impact for me, I still love it and it’s fantastically crafted. Prior to it, we’d had small hints as to how Jules feels about her identity and mental health but we get a much more in-depth yet still sensitively executed look into these aspects in this episode. This one spends longer than the first special on psychedelic imagery and visions, while exploring Jules’ history and emotional state, which show highlights in the stunning cinematography. However, I most appreciate the unique discussion about gender and the complexities of the spectrum, which is like nothing I’ve ever seen in how honest and down-to-earth it is. Hunter Schafer is brilliant, channelling all the charisma and energy of the character while also accessing the side of her repressed trauma from her brutal past. Like Zendaya, she’s magnetising to watch and this episode does wonders in helping us understand Jules, even through her mistakes.
So, season 2… insert disappointed sigh. One of the main problems with Euphoria’s sophomore outing can be effectively summed up by an exchange of dialogue in the finale, between a character staging a play and her cohort – “It could be worse.” “How? “It could be boring”. This unfortunately demonstrates how Levinson’s takeaway from season 1 seems to have been that Euphoria is a show defined by its superficial extremes, as these lines seem to acknowledge the shows’ flaws yet act as if they don’t matter as long as a lot of high school craziness is happening onscreen. It feels like Levinson thinks that gratuitous nudity and drug use were what made Euphoria special amongst teen dramas, and that it’s simply enough to continue being daring and dramatic like this. Honestly, it kind of feels like the power and status from Euphoria’s immense popularity have gone to Levinson’s head, as he writes in season 2 as if the fans will happily eat up any of it, regardless of the quality and wits.
There needs to be others joining Euphoria’s writing room for season 3, as it seems to be too much for one person to keep handling alone. Many characters seem thinner and less intriguing this season, with some of the worst examples being the massively side-lined Kat, and Jules, who ceases to be a character carrying importance other than in her relationship with Jules. Instead, we spend far more time with pointless love triangles, new characters like Elliott (Dominic Fike) that I don’t really care about and who are often pretty unlikeable, and the crime side of things, with Fezco and his surrogate brother Ashtray (Javon "Wanna" Walton). The latter isn’t badly executed, however, I really don’t think that it gels with the high school part of this show, as it’s interesting, sometimes even compelling, but feels largely disjunct to the partly soapy ongoings in season 2. I was pretty disappointed with the progression of Nate because the writing makes him become an almost farcically cartoonish villain half the time, with a particularly ridiculous scene involving a gun that completely ruined any form of immersion for me. Plot points frequently seem to get forgotten, such as drug dealer Laurie’s (an subtly intimidating Martha Kelly) threats, some of which are probably being saved for the confirmed next season but it’s clear that some were just clumsily handled.
Strands of story also don’t cross over like they did in season 1, making much of it feel quite disconnected. Despite all the flaws, there are things I liked, especially episodes 1 and 5, which are both arguably peak Euphoria. The former maintains Euphoria ‘tradition’ in a fantastic premiere that brings us back into the world with both style and substance, containing this season’s most memorable examples of cinematography at the episode’s large party sequence, where nearly everyone’s storylines cross over for once this season, and each subplot introduced seems to be an intriguing premise. Also, I love this episode’s ending, with a truly explosive start to the New Year (if you know, you know). Episode 5 is brilliant in a very different manner, as it refocuses the show, which had gotten distracted on less important matters, back to Rue’s struggles with drugs, in an uncompromising and intense look at the harsh reality of her situation and how her addiction brutally affects others, including her mother, Leslie (Nika King), and sister, Gia (Storm Reid), both of whom are quietly powerful in their emotional ruin she causes them. It’s a gripping showstopper, making it all the more unfortunate that the following episodes never again reach its height. Back to the good, I did like the meta twist with Lexi (Maude Apatow), who viewed herself to have been a bystander in her life, in correlation with how small a role she played in season 1, and, although it went on too long, I really enjoyed her play, especially when it was developing her and Rue’s friendship, filling in some of the gaps previously hinted at by giving us more context as to their past history. Also, the ‘Holding Out For a Hero’ sequence is amazing, with Austin Abrams’ theatre kid Ethan getting some time to shine, and Lexi’s slightly irresponsible but caring mother, Suze (Alanna Ubach), is hilarious in this episode as well as throughout the rest of the season. The surprise ‘MVP’ is Sydney Sweeney, who takes her performance as Cassie to the next level in her vulnerability contrasted with her selfishness, despite her character being left in a strange, lazily written place by the end of the season. I honestly quite liked what happened with Cal, with Dane clearly committed to his performance in the character’s wild breakdown and deserved ending this season. While it doesn’t pack season 1’s fresh punch, the cinematography adopts a grainy, 1970s-esque vibe for season 2, which I do appreciate, as it also proves that they don’t just do the one shtick of visuals in this show.
In summary, Euphoria’s second season was a mess, albeit a generally enjoyable one, with a few of the series’ highest highs but also most of its lowest lows.
For better or worse, there’s nothing quite like Euphoria on TV right now, as the show is unique and possesses certain moments of brilliance. If the writing can be tightened up again, with such a talented cast and crew, there’s no reason to think that season 3 can’t be a return to form, so I’m going to stay optimistic about returning. Overall, I would recommend this show to fans of teen dramas and unconventional, slightly genre-warping A24 projects. However, I’m adding a trigger warning here for anybody who struggles and/or has struggled with drug abuse, depression and/or suicide (there may be topics and issues that I’ve missed so it’s probably best to search it up before watching if you have concerns, stay safe).
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