Much has been made of the poster art for the third season of Sam Levinson’s Euphoria, with its bright color palette, canary-yellow typeface, and expansive desert landscape sharply contrasting the bruisy, glittered aesthetic and insular suburban milieu of the show’s earlier seasons. This tonal shift is immediately brought into sharp relief in the first of three episodes made available for review, opening with a nail-biting set piece involving Rue (Zendaya) climbing out of a dusty jeep teetering atop one of Donald Trump’s rusty border fences, accompanied by a distinctly spaghetti western-inspired score courtesy of Hans Zimmer.
With its widescreen framing and open vistas, the new season of Euphoria certainly feels, at least in those opening scenes, like an entirely new series. Four years have passed since the glorious shitshow that was Lexi’s (Maude Apatow) autobiographical high school play, which means that we’ve jarringly skipped right over the proverbial “college years.” This leap in time is a convenient metaphor for the way many of the show’s characters have been robbed of their youth, but it was probably inevitable given that the actors are all pushing 30.
Watching Rue sell dope at the dormitories of some sun-baked SoCal university would, admittedly, be far less entertaining than watching her body-packing drugs across the Mexican border and expelling them in a pasta strainer. Which is to say, Euphoria’s third season is every bit as visually arresting and stomach-churning as the first two.
The ecstasy of youth, however hazardous, is replaced here with a sinking fatalism, inspired in part by the real-life overdose of cast member Angus Cloud, whose character, Fez, is lovingly referenced multiple times by Rue and others. Cassie (Sydney Sweeney) and Nate (Jacob Elordi) are, according to Rue, playing house “in some right-wing suburban bubble,” and witnessing the high school sorta-sweethearts eating a candlelit dinner in a mansion that looks like it was interior-designed by Leona Helmsley stretches credulity—which feels strange to say given that, moments earlier, we watched Rue swallow 20 KY-coated balloons filled with opiates.
Levinson, though, is less interested in making reality TV than he is in making a statement. While his largely estranged band of merry marauders are a little worse for wear, they still cling to the American dream, whether it’s Rue’s fantasy of going “legit,” Cassie’s aspirations of becoming a successful influencer, or Maddie’s (Alexa Demie) budding career as a Hollywood manager. “I believe in capitalism,” Maddie says matter-of-factly at one point in the second episode.
The main cast effortlessly makes this transition from angst-ridden teens to shit-grinning climbers, and Martha Kelly, as drug lord Laurie, continues to quietly nibble the scenery (though a stone-faced Darrell Britt-Gibson gives her some serious—and seriously amusing—competition). But it’s Sweeney who stands out, at least in these early episodes, imbuing Cassie with a mix of glassy-eyed self-importance and pitiable self-doubt.
What was once the defense mechanism of a girl navigating a world that valued her young body above all else has grown into something far sadder and more toxic. Yet, even in the new episodes’ most brutal scene, Cassie’s extravagant, juvenile tantrum seems to say, “Don’t worry, this is all satire.” Humor, though, can’t hide Levinson’s very real contempt for a system whose corruption, greed, and lawlessness he artfully traces all the way back to the wild, wild West.
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications like Slant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to our Patreon or making a donation.
