Euphoria season 3: style over substance or a glimpse of reality?

The initial reaction to Euphoria’s third season has been, frankly, brutal. Let’s be honest: Sam Levinson’s high school drama is a prime target for criticism, and it delivered a resounding dunk.

A cash-strapped, exploitative mess?

From Rue’s ostentatious $5,000 Japanese jacket while smuggling drugs to Nate’s bafflingly persistent need for Bottega Veneta – even when broke – the premiere felt less like a compelling narrative and more like a pointed critique of millennial excess. The rumors about Sydney Sweeney’s carefully curated lingerie line promotion weren’t far off the mark either, adding another layer of cynical observation to the already fraught situation.

Beyond the flash

But Levinson isn’t finished yet. While critics focused on the show’s superficiality, I’m sticking with it. The season’s central conceit – the American dream as scrolling through porn – is unsettlingly relevant, and the question remains: is this satire or a deeply troubling endorsement of a specific aesthetic? The introduction of Alamo Brown, played by Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, immediately throws a wrench into the established order, referencing the Wild West’s reputation for sin, and posing the chilling question: ‘What am I facing? And who are you?’

Rue’s descent continues

Rue’s new path, trading Laurie’s drug operation for Alamo’s “whoring business,” isn’t a clean break. Her relapse, fueled by a visit to Jules, underscores the cyclical nature of her addiction and the deeply ingrained red flags that permeate her life. It’s a disheartening reminder that her actions have had devastating consequences – twice over, with the death of Ashtray and now a dancer overdosing under her watch. Shouldn’t this weight be shaping her judgment, rather than fueling further impulsive decisions?

A familiar cycle

The season’s attempts to reintroduce familiar faces – including Rosalía as Magika and Eric Dane’s return as Nate’s father – feel increasingly desperate. The core problem isn't simply style over substance; it’s a fundamental inability to chart a meaningful future for Rue or any of these characters. They’re trapped in a loop, mirroring the bleakness of the narrative itself.

A darker truth

Despite the missteps, there’s a disturbing honesty at the heart of Euphoria’s third season. Rue’s confrontation with the consequences of her actions – the death of Ashtray and the potential loss of another – offers a crucial, albeit uncomfortable, grounding. It’s a brutal reminder that even in a world saturated with superficiality, some choices carry irreversible weight. Let’s hope Levinson can harness this darkness, rather than drowning in it.