Euphoria is a teen miniseries that confronts topics of internalized homophobia, drugaddiction, mental illness, body positivity, and abortion, among others. The U.S adaptation of the show was created by Sam Levinson and premiered on HBO early Summer of 2019. Since its premiere, the show has become notorious for the colorful aesthetic that dominates the cinematography and the main characters’ unique styles, and the rawness with which it portrays gruesome teenage experiences. With an age rating of 18+, the target audience seems to be mature teenagers and young adults. Queerness and melancholia are deeply woven into the plot and visuals of the show and it (fortunately) feels like we are witnessing melancholic characters who happen to be queer, since their queerness isn’t the source of melancholia as is often the case on television. A stellar cast of Gen Z actors that includes Zendaya, Hunter Schafer, and Alexa Demie, takes us through uncomfortable yet relatable moments of ambivalence as their characters come of age.
The series follows Rue, the biracial seventeen-year-old protagonist, and other teenagers in a small suburban town as they face difficult coming of age challenges. Shortly after being discharged from a rehabilitation facility, Rue returns home to her mom and sister with no intention of abstaining from drugs. However, she soon she meets Jules, the new girl in town (who happens to be trans), and falls in love, replacing her addiction to drugs with an equally unhealthy addiction to Jules. In the end, it is revealed that Rue’s drug addiction serves as a method of coping with the loss of her father. Paradoxically, it is precisely this detachment from real life that keeps her rooted in this melancholic state and leads to a loss of self. The scenes depicting melancholia are heightened with key stylistic choices: soft blue, pink, and purple lights often engulf the characters and flashbacks to their childhoods evoke a deep gloominess that serves to highlight their internal conflicts. It is simultaneously sad and beautiful.
Rue narrates all eight episodes of the series, often admitting her own unreliability as she fills us in on a different character’s backstory in each episode. Her ongoing dialogue with the audience and the widescreen structure of the picture cultivates intimacy, drawing the audience in. In the moments that she speaks directly to the audience, it is difficult not to empathize with her. Rue’s character is perhaps the most well-written character in the series. In fact, the show has been deemed most successful in its portrayal of depression and drug addiction, a feat that many attribute to the showrunner’s own past experience with those issues and Zendaya’s groundbreaking performance. The complexity of a well-acted and well-written queer biracial character who struggles with mental illness and drug addiction would be just enough to carry the entire season, if it had to. Luckily, the other character’s storylines are powerful and interesting in their own right.
One of my favorite moments of the series happens in the second to last episode titled, ‘The Trials and Tribulations of Trying to Pee While Depressed.’ Jules leaves town for the weekend to hang out with an old friend and meets Anna, whom she feels immediately attracted to. The setup of this first encounter is splendid: Anna and Jules are in bed, Jules laying down and Anna sitting on her while doing her makeup, the ceiling of the room is covered with soft pink clouds and Jules tells Anna about her gender progression. She describes the trajectory from being raised as a boy to taking hormones as a teenager as “leveling up,” though she admits that she “hasn’t yet reached her full power.” When Anna asks about her relationship with men, Jules says, “in my head it’s like, if I can conquer men, then I can conquer femininity,” which prompts Anna to ask why she needs a man to feel more feminine. Then, when Jules is unable to respond, Anna asks whether she feels like she has already conquered femininity. Jules says, “I don’t know but it’s not like I even want to conquer it. It’s like I want to fucking obliterate it and then move on to the next level. I don’t really know what that means or looks like but I want it.” And we hear her friend in the background chime in with “Queerness is infinite!” I found this scene to be refreshing in its depiction of the trans experience. Here we are told that there is no one universal trans experience and, like the rest of the characters, Jules is still figuring it all out. Hearing a trans character played by a trans actress speak about the complexity of gender and sexuality while flirting with a queer woman of color felt like a monumental moment for representation in television. It is a big departure from how queerness was presented in some of the texts that we encountered in class this semester, such as Giovanni’s Room and Fun Home.
Growing up, I desperately looked for a show like this one. I grew up in a small conservative Anglo town in Central Florida and, as an immigrant lesbian woman of color, I struggled to find authentic representations of people like me in the media. It seemed like the only accessible lesbian films were tragic stories of forbidden love between white queer women. I truly believed that people like me didn’t exist: I was too foreign and too feminine to be queer. Needless to say, it took me a long time to come out to myself and to others in my community. Euphoria seems to exist in an entirely different world. Its queer characters never come out or struggle to identify themselves with a label; their peers are not fazed by their sexualities; the conflict does not stem from the characters’ difficulty with accepting their sexual or gender identities. It was a difficult trajectory but today I have an amazing partner, tons of queer friends, and a family that loves me. I hope shows like these make it a softer, kinder path for the new generation of queer girls.
It is very easy for shows like this one to prioritize shock value at the expense of rich storytelling. One look at its most successful predecessors-Skins, Degrassi, etc.-says it all. Though euphoria has an aspirational element, it is mainly stylistic. The combinations of soft pink, blue, and purple lights that engulf the characters at times and their unique, cartoon-like styles definitely create an aspirational mood. However, the characters lived experiences are intentional, with important themes succeeding them. It doesn’t feel like the show is trying to glorify drug consumption or teenage sex. Instead, it shows us difficult experiences that we may or may not relate to and demands that we acknowledge them. At 34 years old, Sam Levinson is a millennial creator. Thus, Euphoria gives us a glimpse at the kinds of narratives that are possible when our generation is in charge of television and film.


