Following on from I May
Destroy You and Normal People (let’s
forget about Final Space for now), we’re continuing
this week our run of blogging ourselves silly about outstanding drama. Fair enough, this show was on a while back,
so I’m well behind the curve here (we can even call it a second wave unless
people find that triggering), but, realising I wasn’t making the most of my Sky
subscription, I decided to go for something available on Sky Atlantic here in
the feudal state of the UK (where you can be a lord if you’re mates with the
government). I’ll admit that Chernobyl was top of my list when it came to
getting more into the channel that became the British home of Game Of Thrones, but people had been telling
me about Euphoria since it
first broadcast. However, what they said
was kind of off-putting. They talked
about club kids. Whatever these are,
they’re not inherently interesting. I
myself am immune to FOMO and therefore haven’t been awake past midnight for
many years. However, TV shows about
people who do go out at night can offer a useful vicarious route to the
thrills, chills, spills and queuing up outside in the cold to pay real money
for the privilege of going inside a place experienced by the kinds of people who
do have social lives. The Euphoria
advocates also talked about drugs. Again,
not a part of my life, unless you count the crazy crazy highs of pre-dawn crossfit
sessions, but I suppose I thoroughly enjoyed Narcos,
even if I only used my post on that show to point out that, currently, buying
illicit substances funds criminality. As
such, my expectations of Euphoria were that it would simply be sequences of
drugged-up teenagers raving to house music under the glow of colourful
lights. Superficial, yes, but
potentially just what I was after. For
some reason.
Euphoria is so much more, however, and I am now grieving for
the fact I have finished all eight episodes.
Set in East Highland, presumably a generic American neighbourhood that
feels a bit Californian but could be anywhere, this is a show about high school
teens that elevates the trope to new (drug-fuelled) highs. I’m sure I could research the actual location,
but I’m bashing this out during a lunch break, and the one thing about working
from home (slash living at work) that I’ve learnt during lockdown is that nobody
is allowed a lunch break, so speed is of the essence – something by now we’ve hopefully
grown used to in my weakening week-on-week prose. At the heart of our stories, we have the main
character of Rue. She is our guide to
this world and the point around which a lot of it revolves. Rue is played by Zendaya, who is an actor who doesn’t
need a second name. I think there has
been news about her, but I’ve never really seen it. What I have seen, though, is her mesmerising
and heart-wrenching performance as Rue.
Freshly back from rehab following an overdose, Rue is a victim of
America’s addiction to prescription drugs.
A lot of our narrative tension comes from her palpable struggles with
keeping clean. Intersecting with these are
the challenges of her budding friendship with Jules, a brightly dressed new
student who forms a kindred spirithood with our Rue.
This would be compelling in itself, but I have to confess
that Rue’s arcs are, to me at least, some of the least interesting in the whole
of Euphoria. They’re still more gripping
than 99% of TV out there, but it’s the surrounding cast of other high school
classmates that really hooked me in. Rue,
however, serves as our introduction point, often narrating the opening scenes
of each episode, sparing no production expense in bringing to life scene after
scene depicting various tableaux of childhood dysfunction. Every family we look into is a hot mess and a
product of visceral pain. Whether we’re
introduced to McKay’s (father’s) dreams of NFL stardom (a dramatised Last Chance U of sorts) or given a
whistle-stop tour of the origins and undoings of Maddy’s incredible confidence,
you can’t take your eyes off the screen until everything is divulged. This renders the ensuing plot points all the
more significant, serving as a grounding for our teens’ otherwise reckless
actions.
This structure also permits Euphoria to tread tired old high
school and growing up themes in a way that completely resists any definition as
generic. Instead, we are awash in originality
as we consider the blossoming (ugly head rearing) of such onset-by-adulthood
innocence losses, including but not limited to: gender, sexuality, body image,
parental disappointment, mental health and many many more. Seriously, all your favourites are here.
Somehow, this plays out with a high level of stylisation
while retaining a contrasting grittiness.
Euphoria is at once dreamlike yet realistic. And yes, I’ve just said the same thing twice,
but with some of you I really feel a need to labour the point. There’s nothing for me to criticise with my
usual archness. Sure, maybe I could do
without so much importance being placed on eye make-up/furniture, but it’s an aesthetic
that gets confidently owned. Euphoria
loves a tracking shot as much as I do; we’re either following a single
character on the march, or watching a beautifully choreographed ensemble march play
out in varying directions. This adds a
compelling and masterful intensity to the glorious unravelling that brings together
all the characters’ narratives in the fairground episode. No doubt the originality of the soundtrack
helps glue the individual strands to each other.
Everybody, this is the show Skins
wishes it had been. I am desperate to
find out more about the whole gang. I
want to be told more about the sadness behind Cassie’s eyes. I want to know if Kat will persist in her delusion
that she is using sex as a weapon on others rather than on herself. Why do I feel such sympathy towards Fezco? Can we get more of Lexi (whether dressed as
Bob Ross or not)? And dare I ask: how
can things end between Nate and his father?
So let’s view my gushings here as a well-deserved round of applause for
something that will guarantee you at least eight evenings of entertainment and
thought-provoking diversion, all while looking pretty nice on your telly and
leaving nobody uncertain that the televisual golden age rumbles on.
