The show’s myriad absurdities are resonant reminders of how tough it is to get lost in the labyrinth of capitalism.
The series is a compelling and humanizing study of its characters, the faith they profess, and the world they strive to proselytize.
The series is striking not only for its scope, but for how uncompromising it is.
In its third season, the series weaves social critique into its narrative with a newfound subtlety.
The miniseries is a cautionary tale of how ballooning a story’s size doesn’t inherently improve its telling.
The Amazon series is a little too fond of its antiheroes to really throw them in the muck.
Season three eschews the notion that there’s a single experience of the ‘80s that should dominate above the others.
The series is ultimately content to luxuriate in the well-established tension between its central characters.
The miniseries does little more than reinforce everything the left always suspected about Fox News.
The show’s third and final season is a visual achievement, typified by imaginative flights of absurdism.
When the series isn’t immersed in pulpy shenanigans, it aspires to be a sort of Bostonian The Wire.
The series manages to pile on the cataclysms without taking pleasure in the pain of its characters.
Euphoria’s central relationship is luminous, but the series struggles to develop its other characters.
The series transforms a story that captured something of the experience of war into a familiar melodrama.
As it nears the end of its run, the series doesn’t seem to have much more to say about trauma.
The series empathetically attests to the agonies that queer people to this day often have no choice but to suffer in silence.
The new season recalls the most human elements of past episodes while levying urgent indictments of the present.
As the series has continued, it’s grown more outlandish, oppressive, and removed from the things that made it so captivating.