As with the first two seasons, Levinson has written the best lines for Rue, the only character he seems to care for. Unlike Cassie, who has become such a caricature of an airhead sex kitten that you wonder if Levinson might actually be trolling America’s pin-up Sweeney, Rue is endearing, funny, complicated and unpredictable. Her scenes, here buoyed by the excellent Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje as Alamo’s charismatic pimp, are what have always elevated Euphoria. Tellingly, she’s the only main character we never see naked.
Yet by the third episode of eight, even Rue can’t quite make you care about this sorry group of amoral ghouls, who seem to loathe themselves as much as each other. Whereas the constraints of high school lent them a degree of relatability, out in the real world – in their flamboyant clothes and dazzling make-up – they appear hollow and silly. Once beloved by Gen Z, Levinson’s ultra-stylised aesthetic now feels tired and dated, while an attempt at Breaking Bad-lite violence borders on parody. Euphoria may still have the gloss, budget and star power of prestige TV, but it’s no longer enough to disguise what increasingly feels like the misogynistic fantasies of a creepy old man.
Euphoria season three begins on Sky Atlantic and HBO Max on Monday April 13