Euphoria: Season 1

Euphoria was advertised as being an authentic window into the current struggles of Gen Z highschoolers; instead, it expands on every extreme to offer the latest teen-show for shock and awe. The production and technical camera work really amplify the visuals during drug-trips and parties, but too few characters have roots in reality to give this show attention.

Zendaya’s character, Rue, is the most grounded of the central characters, and her performance serves as the emotional core of the entire show. How she deals with hiding her drugs from her mom to trying to save her little sister from making the same mistakes really give quality material for a fantastic performance. Her transition into junior year after rehab and an overdose is fully expanded with the camera work and fourth-wall-breaking sequences of her hallucinations, which grant her the ability to narrate the other stories. The skits Rue creates inside her mind to grasp the world around her are a lot of fun, bringing originality and life into those episodes. She was the only character I felt had meaning beyond the scenes she was in. Yet, the final episode pulls the rug from your feet and abandons any sense of time and development with her character, sending her into a music video that was more confusing than impressive. Zendaya is the reason I was hooked on this show, and she was the only reason I stayed for one season.

The first episode is believable, but I started having my doubts when the character Nate was fleshed out. He is the captain and quarterback of the football team and wants to be in control of the entire school. That part makes perfect sense, it is a common trope both in real life and on screen, but then he begins sneaking around in a grey hoodie and beating up adults that mess with his girlfriend. How does a 6’4” football player, “star of the town,” sneak around the mall in a light grey hoodie? How does he get away with breaking into a guy’s house and putting him in a neck brace? This blend of psychopath and king-of-the-hill character traits clash so roughly that he either yells at the other characters, filled with testosterone, or calculates how he will manipulate their lives. This clash never molds into one flaw or sense of doubt that gives his drastic actions purpose. I would be able to set his character aside—since many of the supporting characters have more relatable and understandable struggles—but he becomes the central antagonist to almost every plot point. The love story between Rue and Jules, and how Jules is giving Rue the hope to stay clean, is somehow derailed by Nate’s desire to control the situation. He only shows up when their relationship has a chance of being happy, and he gains nothing out of it. Most of the story arcs have moments of reality to them, but every single one is crushed by the interruption of this ridiculous character and his toxic façade of being essential to the show’s essence.

The beginning plot beats of the characters are meant to be real, but after the series premiere, the writers twisted every scene to be the most dramatic and extreme rendition for every character. McKay’s realization that his star power in high school means nothing on the D1 football team in college sounds like an amazing subplot, but after two scenes of his story the show only uses him to ruin his girlfriend’s emotions—and when that is all done he disappears from the show without a mention of what happened. The school realizing there might be a sexual abuse problem with the students—to the point where they bring in speakers to start conversations with the students and show videos to every class—is very well done for the four minute scene it produces, but by the midpoint of that episode that conflict is dropped as the characters move on to celebrate a Halloween costume party. Kat’s search for physical value ending with her performing as a chat girl for money is somehow one of the most understanding stories of the entire show, yet it never goes beyond her finding confidence in her own body—ignoring the consequences of exposing oneself online to strangers. All of these stories, if revisited correctly in the next season, might be worth watching and learning how today’s youth see themselves in the changing world around them, but from where the show left off, far more truth needs to be shown to drown out the needless drama.

The scope and execution of the story breaks the credibility of what would be a technically-impressive show. The first few episodes take place over the course of the first few weeks of school. These episodes are shown as taking place during the summer with before-school-parties and carnivals, but then it leaps to Halloween by episode six… and then ends on episode eight with the winter formal dance. This problem stems from the location of Los Angeles, as it never changes with the seasons, and the show never explains when a time jump happens. Instead of wrapping up the plots introduced in episode one, the season finale jumps several months into the future to have this winter dance as a setting, and then forces the characters to reflect on how they have already solved their problems that seemed way too problematic for them to handle. It dropped all tension, ignoring the energy pushing the characters forward, and had them sit in the middle of the gym staring at everyone as if they had already graduated. I wanted many of these characters to learn from their mistakes, or at least find a reason to keep going, but the turns and choices they took made me feel sick, yet the show heightened these moments as if they were right. The season finale was the last straw for me, it showed that the writers would rather give trippy visuals as an experience rather than say something worth listening to.

Overall, many of the characters fail to be realistic, forcing scenes to the extreme for sensationalized drama. This choice of storytelling only makes the story a half-realized idea of teenagers yelling at each other in situations that are far more intense and psychotic than real high school. Without clarity, credibility, or hope for a true sense of humanity in many of these characters, I see no reason in continuing the series beyond where it has barely started to go.

Story Rating: 5/10

Character Rating: 3/10

P.S.— A significant portion of this show contains sex scenes, full frontal nudity, and highly uncomfortable scenes involving nudes and sex. The intensity and frequency of these scenes is mainly created to boost viewership, similar to the first few seasons of Game of Thrones. Having every character involved in these actions on screen means they cannot be under the age of 18, so they hire actors ranging from 24-27 years-old that are young enough to look the part... except they don't. There is a line of dialogue in the season finale that is word for word "I can't believe we're 16," and that line is a microcosm of this show. I cannot relate to juniors in high school that are more physically mature than college graduates, especially when they have sex every night instead of studying or practicing football.