Should I have been watching Euphoria’s first season as an innocent, bright-eyed 14-year-old? Probably not. At the time, I thought that the chaotic lives of the characters were what I could hesitantly expect as I got older. Little did I know that I was actually destined to be a neek aiming at Oxford, but the point still stands. While I couldn’t relate to Rue’s drug-fuelled crash-outs, or Cassie and Maddy’s fights over Nate, the angst and vulnerability of the ensemble cast spoke to me, and certainly to millions of other teenagers around the world. Coupled with a Petra Collins-esque aesthetic and the familiarity of Zendaya from her Disney days, Euphoria was bound to resonate with Gen Z. So, why was the recent premiere of the third season so underwhelming?
Set several years after the second season, season three of Euphoria sees the cast of troubled teenagers in their early adulthoods, pursuing careers and supposedly dealing with the same insecurities and relationship problems they faced in high school. We are transported from a gritty yet glittery haze to a desert straight out of Breaking Bad, with a complete overhaul of the show’s aesthetics and creative direction. Town festivals and house parties are swapped for meth labs and strip clubs, but many of the characters are invested with the same immaturity as before, while their audience has grown up in the meantime.
While ‘Euphoria Sundays’ are as popular as ever on X, the behind-the-scenes chaos plaguing the show is just as notorious. Just last week, season one and two composer Labrinth announced that his music would not appear in the third season, after being treated “like shit” by associates of the show. Although it is unclear exactly what happened between Labrinth, HBO, and writer Sam Levinson, the absence of Labrinth’s unique score has changed the feel of the show entirely. To add fuel to the fire, Labrinth also released music on the last ‘Euphoria Sunday’, leading fans to speculate that this was originally meant for the show. What was once a common thread between years-apart seasons is now an awkward Hans Zimmer-filled placeholder, lacking a clear vision. When the third season hinges entirely on the premise of a time-jump, aesthetic and thematic continuity is needed more than ever, but highly publicised fallouts like these only weaken the show’s identity.
Additionally, while it is yet to be seen whether major players from past seasons will return, several fan favourites are confirmed to have left the show for good. Actors Angus Cloud (Fezco O’Neill) and Eric Dane (Cal Jacobs) sadly passed away in 2023 and 2026, respectively, with Dane’s final scenes as Cal airing posthumously in the upcoming season. Other cast members are also said to be missing from the third season, including Algee Smith (Chris McKay), Barbie Ferreira (Kat Hernandez), and Storm Reid (Gia Bennett). Most shocking, however, may be that lead actor Hunter Schafer (Jules Vaughn) did not appear at all in the season premiere. An overhaul of characters does not bode well for the series, especially given the countless allegations of a toxic working environment, including from Oscar-nominated actor Colman Domingo.
These issues point to a wider problem with the show’s production, which has resulted in the loss of Gen Z’s attention: simply, too much time has passed. While Skins, a comparable British TV show, grew annually with its audience, Euphoria has taken six years to develop just three seasons, which can be a risky outcome for a coming-of-age drama. The four-year gap between the second and third seasons can be felt in the performances on screen; Jacob Elordi, in particular, does not seem to have his heart in it anymore. Why would he? After Oscar and BAFTA nominations, and partnerships with Hugo Boss and TAG Heuer, Euphoria may now be little more than a contractual obligation, instead of a significant step up from The Kissing Booth. Watching Elordi and Sweeney engage in pet play (yes, really) in the new season’s first episode is excruciating, devoid of any sexual chemistry or enjoyment. Thankfully, Zendaya’s excellent performance as chaotic, masc lesbian Rue is the saving grace of the show, proving the bittersweet point that her carefully-crafted character has been let down by the show’s writing.
If the aesthetic, cast, and music of the first two seasons were irrevocably stripped away to reveal a bland artistic landscape, the writing suffered an even worse fate. Admittedly, Euphoria was never a feminist masterpiece, and much can be said about the reliance of the early seasons on Sydney Sweeney’s naked body. But, fundamentally, they had something to say about the exploitation of women and the sexual politics of teenagers. Whether it was Rue’s drug addiction, Cassie’s abortion, or Maddy’s experience of domestic violence, Euphoria was never afraid to deal with hard-hitting issues and explore the emotional effects of adversity.
Fast forward to season three, and the picture is very different. Sexual scenes are ramped up and appear to be fetish content more than anything else. Rue’s reintroduction to the series sees her working as a drug mule, smuggling fentanyl from Mexico to the United States – naturally, this requires that we watch her swallow large balls of drugs, while sticking her fingers in her mouth, gagging, and salivating intensely. Likewise, Cassie attempts to fund her wedding by becoming an OnlyFans model, which obviously means that the audience must see her creating fetish porn. There is no critical lens held up to their actions, as there perhaps would have been in the past. No exploration of how it may feel for Rue to be exploited in this way, no exploration of Cassie’s relationship with her body. Rather, we are met with scenes designed to shock, disgust, but also arouse, perhaps a manifestation of the writer’s fantasies – the same writer who directed The Idol in 2023, which was critically panned for its sleazy approach to “shocking” sexual themes.
The demand for a third season of Euphoria was high, given that season two had ended on a cliffhanger, and the plot had captured the hearts of Gen Z. Yet, the time taken for this season to materialise failed to account for the audience’s dwindling desire, and the principal actors’ introductions to high-brow, award-winning cinema. A lack of interest from the audience seems to have been matched by a lack of interest from the actors themselves, including the few who chose to stay on at all. The show refuses to grow with its audience, instead pandering to the lowest common denominator of horny men turned on by Sydney Sweeney. If season three continues in this way, what could have been a powerful yet hilarious representation of youthful angst and drama will have literally lost the plot.
