Justice for Fez, Ashtray, Jules, Kat, and basically everyone else from the shackles of bad storytelling.
While I will spend the foreseeable future (until 2024, at least) in mourning of Euphoria, this episode softened the blow by being the worst episode out of the entire two seasons. Riddled with soapy, after-school specials, a never-ending play, and an hour-long song sung by a character I can't force myself to care about, Euphoria really ended on a fizzle.
Of course, we should start with the dramatic (if not slightly predictable) encounter between Fez and the feds. Ashtray, who at this point is a full-blown psycho killer, has two kills under his belt and goes for three and four when the police bust down the door. It's natural to remain sympathetic to a child who has grown up in a chaotic house of violence, but Ashtray has a particular glint in his eye that makes him seem more villainous than relatable. The cartoonish violence that occurs in the suburban household makes Ashtray's demise and Fez's probable arrest less sad and more improbably ridiculous. As a staunch supporter of Fexi and a lover of Fez's realistic portrayal of a hometown anti-hero, even I failed to be moved by the conclusion given to him due to the melodramatic delivery.
Then there was Lexi's neverending play. While I enjoyed the shtick for an episode––allowing the characters to play into their comedic skill sets––the finale was utterly compromised by its inability to give up the gimmick. While the previous episode was constructed with care and, well, structure, this felt like a crutch to a writer who couldn't come up with a more effective way to deliver the blow. And, while I appreciate Lexi as a relatable side character, I don't buy her as a leading lady––something she says herself in earlier episodes. Forcing her into the spotlight reveals the shallowness that permeates the writer's room.
When Maddy and Cassie took center stage for their highly anticipated fight, the moment felt anti-climatic, a constant throughout the season. Just as they're verging on the real heart of the issue (eg, when Maddy screams "I would never do this to you"), Levinson pulls us back to soap opera central with an over-the-top fight scene that ends with both girls cascading down the school stairs in kitten heels. Both Maddy and Cassie have the potential for huge depth of emotion. Both portrayed by dynamic and talented actresses, the pair deserve a better fate than brawling 2000s WorldStar style like a couple of freshmen.
Though some will interpret this moment as "realistic", Euphoria's clear purpose is to offer an elevated understanding of adolescence––not a direct reflection. It's ok to have moments of reliability but as we see during the more spiritual moments of Rue's addiction battle, the show is at its best when it doesn't mirror reality exactly.
The only somewhat satisfying conclusion was the brief moment between Rue and Jules where Rue finally, finally, finally is able to let go of her toxic relationship. While both girls have big hearts and deep love for one another, it's been clear since season one that they do not belong together. With each passing moment of their relationship, they find ways to stab each other and twist the knife. Though it took two entire seasons, Rue was strong enough to do what's right...Walk away.
Equally dramatic (though half as effective) was Nate's encounter with his dad. We've been waiting for this reckoning: Frankenstein and his monster but its delivery once again was lackluster. Cal, who has now relegated himself to a warehouse with a group of potential hookups, seems surprisingly at peace in his new surroundings. Though the man is virtually homeless and drinking the days away, he speaks to his son with surprising sobriety that doesn't quite fit or give us the emotional catharsis we were looking for. Only moments after Nate conceals a loaded gun, three police officers come in to arrest Cal and take him away. Though Cal certainly is a criminal, abuser, pedophile, the list could go on, he is an unarmed white man who doesn't hold an immediate threat to the people around him. If I learned one thing about Sam Levinson while watching this show, it's that he doesn't understand the role of police in white, suburban society.
Although maybe not the PC thing to say, I wanted more brutality in the confrontation between father and son. In a relationship that is overscored by violence, I truly expected some violence in this encounter. Though Nate has a history of using (and abusing) police as a means of violence, the teenager also has a proclivity for taking things into his own hands. Why did the most pivotal, interesting conversation between these two characters suddenly become compromised by reason?
How could it be an episode recap without a mention of Elliot's dreaded song? It did take over half an episode after all. With absolutely no chemistry between the characters and an entire production, while Rue looks sadly in the other direction, all I could feel was a sense of second-hand embarrassment. Why Elliot and Rue were allowed an entire musical number while Jules remained mute for the latter half of the season, I'll never know.
All in all, this was an entertaining season with its few shining moments of excellent television. With dramatic and fast-moving plotlines and the occasional, refreshing breath of vulnerability, Euphoria has created a cultural phenomenon in its second eight weeks. With all that said, the season finale did all but undercut this work in its entirety. With uneven storytelling––including random and frequent cuts, a confusing timeline, and too much time on certain characters––I left this season with a sense of frustration and about a million unanswered questions. What will happen between Maddy and the family she babysits for? Will we ever hear from Kat again? Does Rue still owe Lori over $10,000? A cliffhanger isn't bad by any means but please, for the love of God, make it intentional.
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