Euphoria season 3: style over substance – or a descent into something darker?
The initial reaction to Euphoria’s third season has been, to put it mildly, brutal. Sam Levinson’s hyper-stylized high-school drama is facing a serious credibility crisis, and the numbers don’t lie – audiences are utterly unimpressed.
A whole lot of money, a whole lot of problems
Rue’s attempts to reinvent herself as a drug mule, complete with a $5,000 Japanese streetwear jacket, felt immediately jarring. Nate’s desperate attempts to appear solvent, draped in Bottega Veneta, only amplified the sense that the show is more interested in visual spectacle than genuine narrative development. And then there’s Sydney Sweeney’s… strategic use of lingerie promotion, a move that felt less like a creative choice and more like a calculated publicity stunt. Frankly, it feels like Levinson is doubling down on the ‘style over substance’ critique leveled at him.
The american dream, redefined
This season throws us headfirst into a warped version of the American dream – scrolling through pornography, and a disturbing lack of forward momentum. It's a disconcerting exploration of contemporary youth culture, and whether Levinson intends it as satire or a bleak assessment of our times remains frustratingly unclear. The introduction of Alamo Brown, played with unsettling intensity by Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, immediately establishes a tone of moral decay, referencing a past rife with “sin” and “roll of the die.”
Rue’s crossroads
Rue’s journey is a tangled mess of bad decisions. Trading Laurie’s drug operation for Alamo’s “whoring business” is a desperate, and ultimately unsustainable, attempt at escape. Even her supposed attempt at sobriety – a fleeting moment with Angel – quickly unravels, revealing a deep-seated inability to break free from her destructive patterns. The flashbacks, while providing context, ultimately reinforce the sense that Rue is trapped in a cycle of self-sabotage.
Beyond the flash
Despite the critical backlash, Euphoria still possesses a dark, compelling core. The looming presence of Ashtray’s death and the potential financial ruin of Nate’s father, Cal, inject a layer of genuine consequence into the chaos. But even these darker elements feel overshadowed by the show's relentless focus on surface-level drama. The introduction of Rosalía as Magika, a dazzling distraction in a sea of excess, further underscores this imbalance.
A legacy of mistakes
What’s truly unsettling about Euphoria’s third season is Rue’s awareness that her actions have had devastating repercussions. She’s grappling with the deaths of two individuals – Ashtray and, potentially, a dancer at Alamo’s establishment – a responsibility that should demand a far more profound reckoning. Instead, she seems adrift, unable to learn from her past mistakes. Jules’s return offers a flicker of connection, but ultimately reinforces the feeling that Rue’s trajectory is spiraling downwards.
The show must go on – but at what cost?
Ultimately, Euphoria remains trapped in its own self-aware loop, repeating the same patterns of excess and dysfunction. There’s a palpable sense that Levinson is aware of the show’s shortcomings, yet unable to move beyond them. Rue’s life, and the lives of those around her, are a testament to the corrosive effects of unchecked desire and the difficulty of escaping a predetermined fate. It’s a show that demands scrutiny, and frankly, it’s failing spectacularly.