Popular television for teenagers is an unfortunate sight. Forgettable soap operas and cringe-inducing, willfully unrealistic comedies leave little room for artists who want to produce meaningful content.
From the guilty pleasures viewers found in Riverdale, the glamorization of the societal 1% in Gossip Girl, to the futile attempts of tackling suicide in 13 Reasons Why mired by an exploitative, victim-blaming nature, teenagers are stuffed with toothless television.
Disregarding the blatant lack of critique in the classism of CW’s Gossip Girl, insecurity is bound to fester within younger viewers. Watching Blake Lively (among everyone else in the show) keep a coveted body image while dealing with the most painfully privileged issues can’t be healthy when consumed in massive quantities.
Euphoria, the series created by Sam Levinson for HBO, marks a fearless departure from the mainstream of young adult television. Now two seasons in, the show has garnered various accolades, critical acclaim and a faithful fan base since its inception in 2019. Levinson, who struggled with substance abuse as a teenager, is refreshingly unafraid to tackle delicate issues with an unbridled, welcome intensity.
“I spent the majority of my teenage years in and out of hospitals, rehabs and halfway houses,” Levinson said at the show’s premiere. “I was a drug addict, and I’d take anything and everything until I couldn’t hear or breathe or feel.”
Intertwining topics of depression, anxiety, sexuality and drug addiction into a fascinating Magnolia-esque coming of age tale, Euphoria is realistic and important. This is in significant contrast to the popular drudgery being produced in harmful quantities from the likes of Netflix and the CW. The real challenge in writing a show with topics such as these is avoiding exploitation and glorification for the sake of entertainment value, an obstacle that many series struggle to overcome.
Levinson, the writer of almost every episode, cleverly injects his personal experiences into the main characters that create interesting contrasts. Brutality in the first season gives into sensitivity in the two therapy-based specials (released in between seasons one and two), and the clearly personal story woven into the show is beautifully paired with a sense of universality.
The main character, Rue, (Zendaya) most represents Levinson. Struggling with drug addiction and depression from a very young age, Rue’s character arc largely consists of dealing with the temptations of narcotics and attempting to overcome her fixation. Jules (Hunter Schafer) is not only Rue’s love interest but is also dealing with the experiences of being transgender in a high school with a largely heteronormative society. Jules’ existence is a constant back-and-forth with Nate (Jacob Elordi), a seemingly archetypal popular jock at deep subconscious warfare with his own sexuality and the stoic traditionalism, toxic masculinity and predatorial attitudes exuded by his father, Cal (Eric Dane). The characters are all dealing with individual, nuanced struggles that teens actually face in everyday life, such as body image and toxic relationships.
Euphoria isn’t for the faint of heart. Graphic nudity, a visceral portrayal of substance abuse, and at times, brutal violence, are some of the constants in the series. But why should we care for Euphoria then? Why do I ultimately see it as something that stands out from the crowd?
The point of this show isn’t simply to display the drug use or the violence but to spark an affinity between other teenagers dealing with similar issues to the characters here. In response to D.A.R.E (an anti-drug campaign) criticizing Euphoria for “glorifying” drugs, Zendaya argued this same compelling point in an interview with Entertainment Weekly.
“Our show is in no way a moral tale to teach people how to live their life or what they should be doing,” she said. “If anything, the feeling behind ‘Euphoria,’ or whatever we have always been trying to do with it, is to hopefully help people feel a little bit less alone in their experience and their pain.”
In essence, the show’s characters aren’t ethically upstanding. Far from it, in fact. The trauma these teens face throughout the two seasons speak to their flawed nature for sure, but everyone here is very imperfect anyway.
Personally, these criticisms of glorification feel ineffectual and futile. As a teenager, watching the series was a very disturbing experience, and I felt as if Levinson was careful not to sugarcoat anything. It’s all there, raw and powerful.
Admittedly, teenagers sometimes indulge in trashy entertainment. I remember having an absolute blast binging Riverdale and Outer Banks. I’m not trying to preach hate here, but more of a call to action for others to be like Levinson. Others that wish to do more with their platform.
Photo courtesy of HBO
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