image credit: https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/tv/reviews/euphoria-season-3-review-sydney-sweeney-hbo-b2956351.html

This article contains spoilers

After a four-year hiatus, the final season of Euphoria began airing in April. Anticipation for the show’s return was understandably high. With the characters no longer confined to the halls of high school, the jump into their twenties seemed to offer endless possibilities for the show to evolve.

Yet, from the moment the trailer dropped, I had this lingering feeling of disappointment. And as the season unfolded, all I could think was: really, is this it?

Before the show even aired, there was controversy, which tainted the excitement of many. 

In summer 2025, Sydney Sweeney came under fire for her advertising campaign with American Eagle. Critics accused the advert’s tagline ‘Sydney Sweeney has good jeans’ of drawing parallels with beauty and whiteness. Sweeney’s later reluctance to comment on this issue only intensified online debates, with some seeing her silence as refusal to engage with the serious controversy. 

Similarly, the release was delayed due to the release of Levinson’s show The Idol, starring Lily-Rose Depp and The Weeknd. The show was met with widespread negativity, being deemed ‘one of the worst programmes ever made’ by The Guardian, and being cancelled by HBO in August 2023. I haven’t personally watched the show, but the fact that I couldn’t find one single positive review about it means I definitely will not be watching. 

All of this meant the show faced an uphill battle from the beginning. But, as each episode aired, many initial concerns were exacerbated. 

Before I get into my criticisms, I want to give credit where it is due. As always, the acting was great. Many of the show’s actors are now Hollywood stars, and during the wait for the release of season 3 they went on to do incredible projects. 

Zendaya, as always, blew me away, Colman Domingo stole every scene he was in and as unpopular as this opinion may be, Sydney Sweeney played the insanity of Cassie so well. 

To me, it was clear that most of the actors had outgrown the show, and were doing the best with the writing that was given to them. 

I was also impressed with the new actors that joined the cast; in particular Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje who played the terrifying Alamo. The eerie look in his eye and that distinct, low voice made him the most intimidating character in the show, and made me feel extremely uncomfortable.

Similarly, I enjoyed the moments where they paid homage to the cast members who have passed away. 

Eric Dane’s character of Cal Jacobs was altered to be a drunk after Dane’s Motor Neurone Disease diagnosis, a clever creative choice which naturally adapted his role so he could remain a part of the story. 

Additionally, when Rue is overdosing, an archived clip of her and Fezco, played by Angus Cloud, who died in 2023, is shown. Seeing him on my screen genuinely caught me off guard, and made me feel quite emotional. This feeling was shared by Cloud’s mother, Lisa, who praised Levinson for honouring her son.

On the whole, the problem isn’t the cast. My issue lies with the writing, and the sloppy creative choices that were made for the characters’ lives. After four years, Sam Levinson’s vision for many of these characters’ lives ties them to the sex industry in various ways, making the season feel narrow. 

Cassie, unhappy with life as the traditional housewife, turns to OnlyFans to initially pay for flowers at her wedding to her high-school sweetheart, Nate (Jacob Elordi), yet ultimately works to alleviate his secret debts. She eventually moves out of her marital home, and calls on her ex-best friend Maddy (Alexa Demie) for help increasing her profile. 

Rue (Zendaya) eventually begins working for Alamo. Something about Alamo immediately feels off, but as the show goes on we see he is an extremely dangerous man. Alongside additional illegal forms of work, Alamo owns a strip club named ‘The Silver Slipper’, with scenes shot in that club often featuring lots of unnecessary nudity. 

Finally, in her adult life, Jules becomes a sugar baby. This relationship is purely transactional, and when Jules is explaining her life to Rue, we see an uncomfortable scene where Jules is wrapped in plastic, enacting one of her sugar daddy’s fantasies. 

For a show that explored complex topics such as addiction and sexuality in its previous seasons, reducing all of these characters lives to a form of sex work was very disappointing to me.

I also took issue with this choice because it often felt as though the show glamourised sex work. While there were moments where the reality of this life was shown, such as the gruesome sexual assault  of Kitty, (Anna Van Patten) by a group of men, and the implication that the ‘rehab’ Rue takes dancer Angel (Priscilla Delgado) to is a front for human trafficking, these moments felt overshadowed by the presentation of sex work as a source of financial independence and personal fulfilment. 

Cassie gains followers, attention, and a significant amount of money through her career. There are scenes where she discusses her earnings, and she is able to send Nate tens of thousands of dollars to pay off his debts. As a result, much of her storyline centres on the rewards rather than the risks of sex work, reinforcing to me that the show is more interested in its glamour and profitability than the realities that often accompany it. 

Another issue I have had with the show is that there were some plot holes and inconsistencies that were never fully resolved, leaving me dissatisfied. 

By the finale, Maddy and Cassie are living together and running a content creation business. But what happened to the betrayal?

One of the biggest storylines of season two was Cassie getting together with Nate behind Maddy’s back, yet this season never properly explores Maddy’s feelings about it. Instead, we’re expected to accept their reconciliation without seeing the emotional work that would make it feel earned.

This inconsistency also applied to Nate, as he completely changes from the abusive, toxic version of himself with no explanation as to how or why this transformation happens. 

While everyone is entitled to change, this doesn’t feel like the Nate Jacobs from previous seasons. The high-school Nate Jacobs would never allow his partner to engage in sex work and would have ripped the fritillaries from the ground to continue with his work. This changed portrayal of Nate Jacobs feels contradictory with the volatility that previously defined him, creating an inconsistent narrative that undermines the believability of his character development.

To put it short, I was extremely disappointed with this season. My disappointment doesn’t come from a lack of talent, but from inconsistent and undeveloped storylines that prevented many of these characters from reaching their full potential.

In some ways, I can’t help but think it should have remained a high-school drama, and it shows.