Euphoria: Blinding Neons and a Wearisome Abyss By Benjamín Gavarre | cineteatrocritica.blogspot.com
I
started watching Euphoria what feels like an eternity ago. Like many
others, I was immediately drawn in by scenes of unprecedented visual rawness:
full nudity, violence, and an omnipresence of substances that made the title
feel like a tragic irony. It wasn't just ecstasy; it was an encyclopedia of
excess. However, once the initial dazzle of its form fades, the question
remains: where is this journey of self-destruction leading us?
Technical
Mastery: A Triumph of Form If one thing is indisputable in the
vision of creator and director Sam Levinson, it's that the series hits the eyes
with brutal force. The scene editing, led by editors like Julio C. Perez IV, is
a marvel: it jumps back and forth, breaks linearity, and surprises with a
fragmented narrative that mirrors the characters' own confusion.
The
cinematography by Marcell Rév uses light not just to illuminate, but to create
moods; those electric blues and saturated reds are now part of this decade's
visual DNA. Added to this is the work of Doniella Davy in makeup and Heidi
Bivens in costume design, which became global trends. It is a series that looks
and feels like a fever dream, supported by Labrinth's atmospheric music, which
in the early seasons achieved that exact blend of melancholy and heartbeat-like
pulse.
A
Spectrum of Misfortune The cast has been the series'
greatest success. Zendaya, as Rue Bennett, delivers a performance so visceral
it becomes exhausting at times; her addiction is a bottomless pit that offers
no respite to the viewer. Meanwhile, Jacob Elordi has established himself as a
major star—the 6'5" lead who is now everywhere—playing a Nate Jacobs whose
relationship with his father, Cal Jacobs (a flawless Eric Dane), is one of the
darkest and most well-executed storylines. The episode depicting the father's
truncated romance in his youth is, arguably, the most human and beautiful
moment in the series.
However,
the script often gets lost in a "catalog of pretensions." Maddy Perez
(Alexa Demie) shines with her hyper-manufactured charisma, while Cassie Howard
(Sydney Sweeney) seems trapped in a spiral where desire is mistaken for a lack
of talent or identity. Special mention goes to Hunter Schafer as Jules Vaughn,
a trans character who breaks stereotypes, even if her "ambiguous
partnership" with Rue ends up being a vicious cycle.
The
Best vs. The Worst: Critical Judgment The Best:
The series' ability to capture modern anxiety and loneliness in the digital
age. It is brave, visually revolutionary, and unafraid to be uncomfortable.
The
Worst: Gratuitous excess. Many critics point out that the series has crossed
the line into "trauma porn," where style attempts to compensate for a
script that becomes repetitive and nihilistic. The violence in the most recent
seasons has become almost unbearable.
Watching
Nate Jacobs being hunted by the mob or Rue buried up to her neck in a
life-or-death situation makes us wonder if any humanity remains. The series
seems to have aged prematurely due to long breaks between seasons, losing the
compass that made it an undeniable hit. Ultimately, it reminds me of that old
film, Born to Win. We were promised euphoria, but we were delivered a
horizon of lamentable prospects where, in the end, everyone loses.
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