Euphoria Features Incredible Filmmaking, Not-So-Good Storytelling

SPOILER ALERT FOR SEASONS 1 AND 2 OF EUPHORIA.

My dad thought the show’s name came from a drug called euphoria. “You’re thinking of ecstasy,” I said, allowing him to correct himself and avoid getting roasted by everyone at the dinner table. He refused, asserting that there must be some illegal substance, fictional or otherwise, called euphoria. A TV series can break the record for being the most talked-about show on Twitter, and my dad will still have no idea what is going on. Probably because he is not on Twitter. Go figure.

Okay. I get it. If you are a huge fan of Euphoria (a Euphorian? Euphorifan?), you probably scoffed at the title. But, before you accuse me of being an attention-seeking contrarian spewing hot takes for clicks, here’s something to consider:

No one is going to read this. I am not a cultural prophet whose opinions will change the course of history. I am just a guy who has some thoughts. So there, you can put down your pitchforks and put out your torches. If anything, you’ll probably slowly scroll through this article, mildly interested. You might stop at a passage with an amusing word in it, like “penises,” chuckle to yourself and move on. And that’s perfectly fine.

For the record, I do like Euphoria. So much so that I will sing its praises for the next three-ish paragraphs. Remember this section when I start pointing out some of its shortcomings!

First of all, the performances are exceptional. Before Euphoria, I knew Zendaya from the Spider-Man movies, Dune, and that Disney show where she danced with Bella Thorne. In Dune, she does some narrating, stares off into the distance a lot, and calls it a day. She doesn’t do much more in Spider-Man. Needless to say, I had never seen her play a three-dimensional character, much less a drug addict. In retrospect, it is a shame how underutilized she has been. Casting Zendaya as MJ in Spider-Man is like asking Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson to lift an encyclopedia. Sure, he can do it, but he can take on so much more! Maybe Zendaya should have been a drug addict in the Disney dancing show. I could see her and Bella Thorne shooting up at the front steps of their apartment building (too dark?). Something to consider for the reboot (there won’t be a reboot).

I will refrain from running down the entire cast list and complimenting every single actor. But I could dedicate a paragraph to each of them. The point is they are all fantastic. There are no weak links. Everyone brings it.

Additionally, Euphoria is gorgeous. Sam Levinson (the creator/writer/director of the show) and Marcell Rév (the cinematographer) apply innovative filming techniques to seemingly every shot. Think about the end of episode 1, season 2. At the New Year’s Party, everything goes dark. A spotlight on the ceiling flashes on the partiers below, creating these mesmerizing tableaus. The sequence was shot on film (Kodak Ektachrome, to be specific), which contributes to the nostalgic aesthetic. It is as if you are reflecting on a series of polaroids you took at a party long ago. It is absolutely awesome filmmaking.

I will also shout out the score and soundtrack. Whether it is Labrinth, Gerry Rafferty, or someone in between, the music always effectively sets the tone for its assigned scene/sequence. There is also SO much music. It is almost a constant soundtrack, which makes sense. Once you get to high school, music becomes more than background noise or whatever your mom plays in the car. You start to find your own taste. The lyrics start to mean something. You begin to associate songs with certain people and places. Euphoria captures that perfectly. Name a more iconic duo than Labrinth’s “Forever” and a slow-motion sequence. I’ll wait.

Okay. We got all the good stuff out of the way. Let’s talk about my fundamental issue with Euphoria. Now, I cannot pretend to be an expert, but I do have a degree in Writing for Film and TV. So while I may not be a genius, at least I am not a random schmuck. I have read and written a lot of scripts. But if you do not believe me (I have made two dollars screenwriting) maybe you’ll believe Oscar-winning screenwriter Aaron Sorkin.

For him, the two necessary ingredients for drama are intention and obstacle. Someone wants something, and something stands in their way. That’s all it takes. I would argue Sorkin’s recipe is at the core of any medium - short story, novel, TV, film - and genre - drama, comedy, documentary.

To be clear, this principle does not refer to scale. In Whiplash, Andrew (Miles Teller) really wants to be the drummer in the school jazz band or whatever. And he is willing to do almost anything to achieve it. Fletcher (JK Simmons), his psycho teacher, presents a major obstacle. He literally wages psychological warfare against this sweaty college kid who just wants to bang on some toms, snares, and cymbals for a living. If Miles Teller fails, he goes back to leading a normal life. So what, right? No. Not so what. Because if sitting behind a drum kit means everything to him, it also means everything to us. He doesn’t want to be another Joe Schmo with a normal life. He wants to be great. As a result, Whiplash is more intense than most movies where the fate of humanity depends on the protagonist succeeding. It is about the intensity of the intention, not the size of the problem.

Consider this: why do we love sports? Because they feature individuals who desperately want something (to win) and have a substantial obstacle in their way (the other team, who also desperately wants to win). Tension escalates as the game goes on. Plays in the first quarter are not nearly as important as they are in the fourth quarter. Each successive moment raises the stakes. Games at the end of the season are far more important than those at the beginning. Each season builds to the climax - the Super Bowl or NBA Finals, etc. - where we find out if our characters (the team) get what they want (a championship).

Is it a coincidence that TV shows have seasons, just like sports? Maybe. I have no idea. But you gotta admit it is an interesting parallel.

Now, let’s apply Sorkin’s equation to Euphoria. We can aim the first question at the protagonist: Rue Bennett. What does she want? Well, she wants to be with Jules (for the first season, at least). But what steps does she take to achieve her goal? I don’t know. They sort of meet, hang out, and it just happens. Rue does not make a major gesture or sacrifice for Jules. She lets her sleep over one time. Rue does not have to overcome any obstacles either. Jules falls in love with Tyler online, but Rue does not do anything about it. It resolves itself without her interference.

One moment I cannot shake happens at the end of the first season. After the homecoming dance, Rue and Jules run off to the train station. Jules hops on a train, but Rue remains on the platform. The train takes off, and Rue watches Jules leave. Here’s the thing: why does Jules stay on the train? Why would she not step off to be with Rue? It was Rue’s idea to skip town in the first place. They weren’t fighting. Yes, Jules lied to the cops about Tyler (who never comes back, by the way), but that seems to blow over. It is not like she was adamant about absconding. So, I’ll ask again, in capital letters this time: WHY DOES JULES STAY ON THE TRAIN?

The first season builds to this moment. Every episode develops Rue and Jules’ relationship. They finally kiss, admit their feelings for each other, and go to the homecoming dance. Just when we think all is right in the world, Jules effs off for no reason. If we knew why she was so hellbent on leaving, it might make sense. Maybe the police asked to question her again. Or she had a falling out with her dad. Or she wanted to see Anna (who never comes back, by the way). We’ll never know.

Here is a basic question: what is the story of Euphoria? I am not asking, “what is it about?” I am asking what actually happens? If you think about it, only a small fraction of each episode contributes to season-long arcs. It is like when you find out the ball is in play for only 11 minutes during NFL games. Most episodes open with a character’s backstory. We learn about their family history (most of it is pretty effed up) and so on. Here’s my thing: none of it is plot-related. It is all exposition. And most of it, we could learn as the story progresses. We do not need the narration. We wasted ten minutes on McKay’s football career when we already got the gist.

Another key principle of storytelling is cause-and-effect. The protagonist must make decisions and deal with the consequences. In Euphoria, characters rarely make choices that have a ripple effect throughout the series. In the first season, the only notable thread spanning multiple episodes is Nate covering his tracks after assaulting Maddy. He blackmails Jules to exonerate himself and frame Tyler.

As a result, Nate is one of the only active characters in the show. He is a catalyst, moving the story forward, unlike Rue. She spends most of her time in bed, hanging out with Jules/Elliott, or doing drugs. While that may be realistic-ish, it is treading water in terms of story. Kat has the cam girl thing, but nothing comes from it. Cassie has an abortion, and we never see how it impacts her (would it not affect her sexual relationship with Nate?). Lexi is mostly an afterthought in the first season.

The one necessary thing Maddy does is spill chili at the carnival (still second to Kevin from The Office in terms of chili spilling scenes) because that motivates Nate to choke her. Speaking of Nate - what happened to the rumors about him having dick pics on his phone? What if he found out Cassie spread it? That might have been a more believable reason to break up with her than her sister’s phallocentric, hypermasculine weight room “Holding Out for a Hero” number (which is hilarious). Why would Nate go to the school play in the first place? Does he suddenly have an appreciation for the arts?

Jules is primarily passive because Nate holds the nude photos over her head. She has no choice but to do what he says. Why not try to outsmart him? Why not fight back somehow? Maybe hatch a plan to delete the photos from his phone. Or reverse blackmail him.

In the fifth episode of the second season, we finally get a major plot point with Rue. Her mom and sister flush her suitcase full of drugs down the toilet. We think, “Oh, shit. How is Rue going to repay the drug dealer lady (Laurie)?” We have an external goal. One with the potential to last the rest of the season. However, it wraps up within the same episode. Rue robs a random bickering couple and then goes over to Laurie’s. Here’s the thing: why does Rue tell Laurie she didn’t have the money? I understand she went there for pills to alleviate her withdrawal symptoms. But why not use some of the stolen cash and buy Oxys? Then, address the suitcase later. Maybe Rue even lies to Laurie, saying all is going to plan. She digs herself into an even deeper hole.

Nope. We never come back to that thread. Rue still owes a drug dealer money! Laurie threatened to human traffic her if she did not get her cash back. Why are we acting like that didn’t happen? How can we expect Rue to move on when she never got square with Laurie? Rue mentions she stayed drug-free the rest of the school year, so I don’t expect Laurie to return next season unless she is very patient. Rue also robbed a house. I imagine the police (and the random bickering couple) would be looking into that. In general, it feels like Levinson frequently introduces threads just to abandon them in subsequent episodes.

It boils down to this: all these characters have such rich backstories, but we have no idea what they want. What do they hope to achieve? What are they working toward? I should make an important distinction here between want and external goal. For example, in Breaking Bad, Walter White’s external goal is to make enough money cooking meth to ensure his family is financially secure. That is what we root for him to achieve. However, he wants a thrill - to feel alive. And the drug world is inherently connected to his desire. As a result, Walt works to expand his meth-cooking business. His goals change to feed his want. The writers construct a series of obstacles Walt must overcome across multiple seasons. These situations chip away at Walt’s character, forcing him to steep lower and lower morally to achieve his goals. By the finale, he has become a completely different person than he was in the pilot.

You can go through every character in Euphoria, and you will be hard-pressed to find an external goal. McKay briefly wanted to go to the NFL. Then he realized it was nearly impossible. Cassie liked ice skating, but her aspirations fizzled out before high school. At the end of the first season, Cassie remarks, “It seems like high school is the last time you’re allowed to dream” (paraphrasing). WHAT IS EVERYONE DREAMING ABOUT? WHAT ARE THEIR DREAMS?

There comes a point in everyone’s life where you start talking more about your memories than your future. What’s behind you is more interesting than what’s ahead. This turning point occurs at different times for different people. If you peaked in high school, you probably passed it. If you find yourself telling the same stories at every family get-together, you probably passed it. Alternatively, I am sure some folks have a more compelling future than past. Most children, for example. In the case of Euphoria, it feels like every character, at the age of seventeen, already passed that turning point.

It’s weird. It’s like you hang out with these people for approximately sixteen hours, and you feel like you know them. You could ramble on about all the tragedy they have been through. But if someone asked you, “what do they want to do with their lives?” you’d draw a blank. And feel like a horrible friend. The truth is these are people with far more interesting pasts than futures - which presents a problem when you are trying to construct a story spanning multiple seasons.

As a result, the second season relies on forced love triangles to create any sense of drama. For starters, we never feel like Cassie and Maddy are best friends. What do they do for each other? Do ecstasy at a carnival and then spill some chili/ride a carousel horse? When do they have some bonding moment cementing them as best friends? Then, when Cassie hooks up with Nate, she takes a page out of Ross Geller’s playbook, but instead of we were on a break, she argues they (Maddy and Nate) were on one. It is hard to feel bad for Cassie when she watches her “best friend” suffer through an abusive relationship and then thinks, “You know what? I’ll have what she’s having.”

In an inside look into the show, Sydney Sweeney (Cassie) said Sam Levinson called her in-between seasons and asked her, “What would be the craziest thing Cassie could do in season two?”

Yes, the answer was to get with Nate. But the problem is not the answer, it’s the question. I would argue you should not aim to create the “craziest” arc, and then try to make sense of it. If anything, Nate would use Cassie to get to Maddy, but Levinson attempts to convince us he is actually in love with Cassie. And she is in love with him. Yeah, I get it, high schoolers are nutty, hormone-driven rapscallions, but you gotta admit, the whole situation is far-fetched.

The only genuine relationship is between Fez and Lexi. Even though they are the oddest couple, we buy it because we see how much they care about each other. In the final episode, for the first time in the entire show, we hear two people discuss their future. And it’s Fez and Lexi. Fez wants to live on a farm and Lexi wants to have three kids, a year and a half apart, starting when she is thirty.

They also both have something to lose. Lexi worries about how her play might impact her relationship with Cassie. Similarly, Fez must protect his drug-dealing enterprise, which Ashtray jeopardizes by killing Mouse. The romance is destined to fail, but it is so damn hard not to root for (maybe Fez can watch a video of the play in prison?). The sweetest moment in the series is Fez and Lexi crying on the couch as the credits of Stand By Me roll. No other couple holds a candle to that scene, not even Rue and Jules.

The police raid on Fez’s apartment is tense because we care about him. If it was pretty much any other character, I would have shrugged it off. Honestly, if Cassie, Maddy, Kat, or anyone from the Jacobs family was in that apartment, I would hope for their immediate demise. Ashtray fits in a similar category. Not that we don’t like him, it’s just we haven’t spent much time with him. We know nothing about him. Other than that he has a tendency to kill people when he shouldn’t. He barely speaks and makes dumb decisions.

And, oh yeah - why does Ashtray kill the rat guy? What does that accomplish? It could have been a moment of growth. After Mouse, Fez teaches Ash how to control himself. He cannot just recklessly kill people. You would think living with such a mellow-tempered brother would cool Ash off, but alas, he murders the rat guy. It is not like his death is unjust. He shoots an officer of the law through the chest at point-blank range. We only care about Ash’s death because it hurts Fez.

That leads us to a problem with the entire cast. Why do we care about these people? Yes, they have flaws. But how can we root for someone who does not want anything? What is Rue interested in? What does she like to do? Wouldn’t her relapses mean more if we knew what she stood to lose? Outside of a relationship with Jules? What if she wanted to be a folk musician, or a history teacher, or a biochemist? We could see her talent and potential and enthusiasm. Wouldn’t that make her spiral all the more tragic? Wouldn’t that be more dramatic? Wouldn’t that give us a stronger sense of hope when she gets clean? The second season follows Rue’s journey to forgiving herself for her past transgressions. It does not answer the question, what is the past keeping her from doing? What is she moving on to?

What if Maddy (or Cassie) was willing to sacrifice her future to be with Nate? Maybe he stood in the way of what she wanted to do. He won’t let her go to her dream school on the east coast. That is an intention and an obstacle. And that boy Nate is a formidable obstacle. Maybe Cassie works to save up money so she can ice skate. I mean, don’t these effing kids participate in extracurriculars? Is there no robotics team? Chess club? Nate and McKay play football. No one else plays sports? Does nothing interesting happen to Maddy and Cassie at cheerleading? Do the others just go home and stare at a wall until it’s time for a Friday night rager at Dan’s place?

It is difficult to like these characters. That does not mean they have to be perfect. There is a balance between flaws and likability. The fact is they rarely do anything nice for each other. You can be flawed and kind. Why would Elliott and Jules steal liquor with Rue in the backseat? Why would they drop her off on the side of the road after she drank? The one brave, altruistic thing Jules does is tell Rue’s mom about her addiction. But we do not see that scene.

Here’s the mark of a great TV show: when the credits roll, you have no choice but to watch the next episode. It could be 2:00 AM on a Tuesday, and you tell yourself, “I should probably go to bed.” And then you proceed to start the next episode. Euphoria did not have that quality for me. Each episode is self-contained. I had no impulse to think, “Oh, what happens next?” because I had no idea what would happen next.

I’m sure plenty of people stayed up until dawn watching this show. There will be folks who binge the entire series in three days. If I had to guess though, I would attribute that more to shock value versus the actual story. Let’s be honest, they show stuff we are not used to seeing in a TV series. We come back to see how they will push the envelope each week. But that is difficult to rely on. Eventually, we become desensitized to it. You can only see so many penises.

I understand film is a visual medium. And I may be biased as a writer. But I believe you lock down the story first, then figure out how to best shoot it. In an ideal world, you could place the camera in the middle of every scene - a motionless wide-shot - and it would still engage us.

Think about theater. A play does not control how the viewer experiences the story, yet it can be just as compelling as a film or TV show. The story and visuals should work in harmony. But you need a good story. If I want to see a pretty frame, I can drive down to a local museum and stare at oil paintings. As an amateur writer with zero credits to his name, I implore filmmakers to make sure what’s on the page is solid before picking up a camera.

And, as an amateur writer with zero credits, I can attest to the fact it is far easier to criticize than to do it yourself. Euphoria obviously struck a chord with audiences. It compelled me to write all this, so it undoubtedly has a unique quality. I do not plan on dedicating four-thousand words to every TV series I watch. I will probably never do this again.

However, if I were to sum it up, I’d say Euphoria nails every aspect of filmmaking - acting, cinematography, direction, set design, costume, hair and makeup - all except for writing. That is my final olive branch. If you got all A's and one C on your report card, you’d still probably get into your dream school (except for the Ivy Leagues, unless your parents are alumni). I realize this is something of a massive, poorly-written compliment sandwich. That no one is going to eat. But, as Cassie eloquently exclaims as she ruins Lexi’s play, “SO [effing] BE IT!”

So effing be it.

Thanks for reading.