Since its debut in 2019, Euphoria has never been subtle. Creator Sam Levinson’s penchant for bold aesthetics, reality-bending sequences, full-frontal nudity, and debauched high-school antics ensured the HBO Gen Z drama dominated the cultural conversation. In making its long-awaited return, the expectation is for more shock-worthy, boundary-pushing (and memeable) material. Of course, those boxes are checked immediately. From speeches about what is the most valuable resource on Earth (spoiler, it’s pussy) to a dog licking diarrhea off a character’s upper thigh, it is hard to stifle an eye roll at times. But as with previous seasons, there is much magic to be found amid the extremes as we enter a new chapter of Rue Bennett’s (Zendaya) life as she sincerely attempts to figure out what she wants while trying to extricate herself from a mess with origins in her adolescence.
For a long time, it seemed like a third outing of the HBO drama would never come to fruition. The death of Angus Cloud in 2023 was one factor. Cloud’s turn as Fezco was a standout throughout the two seasons, including his burgeoning romance with Lexi (Maude Apatow). Even though Levinson keeps Fez alive in the series, serving a 30-year prison sentence, his loss is felt. (Eric Dane doesn’t show up in the premiere, but he will make an appearance.) Stories of behind-the-scenes chaos during the second season of Euphoria (including Barbie Ferreria’s departure) and, then again, on The Idol, added to the chatter. But here we are, and the teeter-tottering car in the opening scene is a perfect analogy for the seemingly can’t-go-forward, can’t-go-back nature of this production. Rue does find a way forward, and so does Euphoria.
The opening scene sets a high bar, demonstrating that Rue’s poor decision-making has not improved over the five-year time jump. The consequences of her actions continue to snowball. The open, desolate space of the American West (and across the border in Mexico) has replaced the nightmare claustrophobia of suburbia. The gorgeous—often stylized—visuals are as much a draw as Zendaya’s commanding performance. However, a recent rewatch of the entire Euphoria output reminded me that a striking aesthetic isn’t enough when supporting character arcs are surface-level and the pacing sags. It is still too early to judge if this season will follow that same pattern, though the style-over-substance conversation begins anew. Without the high school as the central location and a raging house party to kick things off, the premiere does have a fractured quality; by some miracle, the 62-minute runtime doesn’t drag.
While it seems like Euphoria is dipping its toe into Breaking Bad waters with the renewed focus on drug-dealing empires and the dark comedic undertones of the aborted drive over the border fence, the look and sound owe more to classic Westerns and Sergio Leone movies than to contemporary television—and unsurprisingly, there is also a big dollop of Tarantino. Even before Adewale Akinnouye-Agbaje’s strip club empresario, Alamo, reflects on the American tradition of reinvention, Levinson makes it clear that Euphoria is undergoing a transition. Gone are the frequent frenetic cuts between scenes and the tendency to depict fantasy alongside reality. The reveal of Batman in the backseat of Rue’s car (she also works as an Uber driver) is actually a guy dressed as the Caped Crusader for a day working outside Grauman’s Chinese Theater.
There are still some jumps between timelines and montages used only to fill in the gaps, like terrifyingly calm drug-dealing maven Laurie (Martha Kelly) finding Rue 46 months after she climbed out of Laurie’s apartment. But gone are the days of Rue explaining how to take a dick pic or hide a relapse through a slideshow presentation. Rue’s continuing voiceover offers a creative thread that ties into previous seasons.
What might be the most noticeable overall change is the score, which now owes its sweeping, atmospheric sound to the past. Hans Zimmer’s trumpets immediately give an Ennio Morricone-style grandeur to wide open spaces as Rue makes her long walk (and later drive to Alamo’s home). Yes, Zimmer’s composition elevates those scenes. Still, I can’t help but miss Labrinth’s memorable fusion of gospel and electronic melodies that set the mood and tempo. (The offscreen fallout recently made headlines.) While it might take me a couple of episodes to get on board with the soundtrack’s direction, the shift from hues of pink and purple to focus-pulling bold primary shades immediately clicks. Considering how washed out and dark many TV shows and movies have become, it is thrilling to see an eye-popping use of red, blue, and yellow rather than desaturated neutrals.
Emmy-winning cinematographer Marcell Rév reunites with Levinson to shoot in 65mm using new film stock through a collaboration with Kodak. The format speaks to the influence of Hollywood classics that capture the scale of the West and its vast landscape. Even the city scenes have a ’60s and ’70s feeling. Every time I feel exhausted by some of the boundary-pushing attempts at Laurie and Alamo’s compounds, the look of the series acts as a palate cleanser.
Movies as a stand-ins for reality has long been a preoccupation for these characters, with Lexi previously imagining her life as part of a Hollywood production as a coping mechanism. Turning events into a high-school play provided much of the framework for the end of the second season and Maddy’s (Alexa Demie) memorable “Is this fucking play about us?” Now, Lexi is working for successful showrunner Patty Lance (Sharon Stone), and the fictional L.A. Nights series is already hinting at meta commentary about Levinson’s experience. Euphoria joins The Comback, Hacks, and The Studio in having a studio lot as a backdrop. One difference? Euphoria focuses on those at the bottom of the ladder, like Lexi and Maddy (who works in management representing influencers and actors).
Reality versus expectation is a theme for the one couple still in suburbia. Maddy’s Instagram, which avoids bad Photoshop by using real photos of Demie at events with Donatella Versace and Hailey Bieber, adds fuel to the fire for former BFF Cassie (Sydney Sweeney). Despite breaking up in the middle of Lexi’s play, Cassie has fulfilled her dream of being engaged to Nate (Jacob Elordi). One constant complaint was that the cast looked far older than teenagers, and I still have to suspend my disbelief that they are playing 22 year olds. Putting that quibble aside, the choice to make Cassie a wannabe TikTok star is obvious but a natural progression. (If this show were in Utah, Cassie would do anything to be part of MomTok.) Of the returning characters, this pair is the most stuck in their high-school personas.
Friction stems from Cassie’s desire for adoration and her plan to post content on OnlyFans so she can spend $50,000 on flowers for her wedding is also not a leap. The internet has changed since Kat’s time as a cam girl. However, I wonder how much new material Euphoria will add to the conversation beyond Nate’s raging jealousy and anger issues—and how it will size up against the excellent Margo’s Got Money Troubles. Disappointingly, Jules (Hunter Schafer) doesn’t appear, though Maddy tells Lexi she heard Jules is a sugar baby. Sex as a commodity is a recurring theme, and both these threads are expanding that scope.
Which brings me back to Rue, who makes her case to Alamo to work within his strip club empire. Rue’s brief time with an isolated Christian family at a homestead in Texas makes her question her choices. She doesn’t see that the teenage daughter longs to escape; instead, she views their internet-free existence as happiness personified. But this isn’t the first time faith and recovery have overlapped in conversations with Ali (Colman Domingo). Back then, Rue rejected the notion that her dad died for a reason and that God had a plan. Now, sitting opposite Ali in the same diner as that special episode (the pouring rain is another callback), Rue chooses to embrace faith. Most of the premiere establishes new elements, but having Ali as an anchor to Rue’s ongoing recovery ensures that Euphoria isn’t totally wiping the slate clean.
Faith comes into play later as Rue faces down a William Tell setup with Alamo reacting to the deadly drugs brought by Rue (courtesy of Laurie) with this test to see if God believes in Rue. The nods to Western motifs add to the tension, and it is another scene where the colors pop amid the darkness. The close-up on Rue’s face, as she goes through the emotions of thinking she is going to die—and then the relief of surviving—adds to the memorable tableau. If Rue was looking for a sign, then this is it, but how much stock should she be putting in this near-death experience? After all, she has almost died multiple times. Will this one make a difference? We have seven more episodes to find out.
Stray observations
- • Euphoria follows in Poker Face’s title-font footsteps using instantly recognizable yellow type and the copyright block. The retro visual is often associated with murder mysteries like Columbo and Murder, She Wrote.
- • First, The Beauty put a spotlight back on singer-songwriter Christopher Cross; now, Rue has a sing-along moment to Cross’ “Ride Like the Wind” as she drives across the Mexican terrain.
- • What is worse than Cool Hand Luke setting a target of eating 50 hard-boiled eggs in an hour? Well, that would be Rue and Faye (Chloe Cherry) coating balls of fentanyl with lube and shoving them down their throats. The gagging, followed by the extraction method, is probably the most unpleasant moment of the premiere.
- • Rue owed Laurie $10,000 at the end of the second season. That has since ballooned to $100,000, but Laurie is letting Rue off lightly, as she claims, with interest, it should’ve been more like $43 million. Still, Rue has done a dozen drug runs over two years and still hasn’t paid off her debt. This is all starting to sound like a twisted math problem scenario.
- • Sharon Stone has kind of already appeared in Euphoria if you count Maddy obsessing over Stone’s Casino mob wife aesthetic in season one. Maddy doesn’t have a ton to do in the premiere, but her makeup and clothing choices are more sophisticated than her high-school looks, showing she is no longer a teenager cosplaying as an adult.
- • The phrase “nepo baby” got popular from a tweet about Apatow, so it is only fitting that a couple more join the lineup. Richard Gere’s son, Homer Gere, plays L.A. Nights heartthrob Dylan Reid.
- Former NFL player-turned actor (and Bottoms scene-stealer) Marshawn Lynch and Darrell Britt-Gibson (who first popped onto my radar in You’re the Worst) stand out among the new cast.
- • Lexi doesn’t clock the hypocrisy when she explains she can’t be friends with a Christian because “they’re judgmental.” She is also actively avoiding calling Fez in prison, telling Rue she is too busy.
- • The reveal that Nate drives a Cybertruck made me laugh out loud because of course he does.
Emma Fraser is a contributor to The A.V. Club.
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