

EUPHORIA SEASON 1 TV
Her provocative online sex work plotline from Season 1 morphs into a snooze-worthy drama with her boyfriend Ethan (Austin Abrams) that culminates in some fantasy sequences, including a dated Game of Thrones reference, that made me cringe.Pop Culture Happy Hour The best movies and TV of 2021, picked by NPR critics An ensemble story focused on pain

Kat (Barbie Ferreira) suffers especially. There are those that are spectacular, but there are others that feel superfluous, bordering on hammy. If it can be said that Levinson ever loses his way, then it is in some - but not many - of these reality-bending moments. The series' characteristically trippy sequences return this time around with a second classroom lecture from Rue, a Martin Scorsese homage with Fezco, a Lexi stage play episode, and more. That doesn't make for an especially relaxing Sunday night show - though the nail-biting agony is eased by Levinson's blending of reality and fantasy. The fallout is less predictable than last season - no one gets pregnant, for example - but it's still Levinson's expert rendering of all-consuming emotion that makes these various storylines, touching on a dozen different corners of life, work as a coherent whole. But for the most part, Euphoria makes its second outing stick by letting the action fly and leaving the audience to watch its cataclysmic consequences. Occasional wisdom is offered by Rue's sponsor Ali (Colman Domingo) and the wealthy mother of a kid Maddy babysits (Minka Kelly). But two years into a global crisis, Euphoria feels remarkably grown up in its broadening of traditional teen narratives for an audience permeated by insecurity and fear at all ages. If previous episodes left you wondering what the kids of East Highland High School were being put through all this emotional, psychological, and even physical hell "for," these new installments defend and deepen the meaning of that suffering expertly. But in Season 2, Euphoria's flagrant disregard for mainstream acceptability is elevated by an earned confidence in Levinson's writing and direction, making the series' ballsy bluster feel better justified. The seven episodes provided to critics (there will be eight in total, released week to week) are as stupefyingly bold as any of Season 1. It is from these dueling phases of Euphoria that its triumphant second season emerges at the start of 2022. Two years into a global crisis, "Euphoria" feels remarkably grown up in its broadening of traditional teen narratives for an audience permeated by insecurity and fear at all ages. The specials were cozier and sadder than anything we'd seen from the show or Levinson before. Each focused on main characters Rue (Zendaya) and Jules (Hunter Schafer) in a Marriage Story-esque narrative that finally got into the guts of the star couple's tumultuous romance and innate incompatibilities through lengthy, intimate scenes. The restrictions of the pandemic made the dialogue-heavy episodes smaller in scope and more intellectually complex.

Then, against the backdrop of the 2020-2021 holiday season, Levinson released two Euphoria specials that were notably tamer. Fans argued it was precisely that rebelliousness that made Euphoria's oozing angst exceptional. Levinson's no-holds-barred approach to drugs, sex, and violence, paired with Euphoria's super popular costume and makeup aesthetic, worried critics who felt it glorified dangerous behavior for teens.

The Emmy-winning HBO drama wasn’t wholly reduced to on-screen penis tallies, but the series' toxically cool material made it notoriously controversial. When Euphoria premiered in 2019, Sam Levinson's dark portrait of modern adolescence shocked audiences.
