HBO’s “Euphoria” is in such a weird place in 2026. A show that once felt abrasively fresh and inventive went away for long enough that not only did its stars all become just as bright in other places, but its provocations seem increasingly hollow in a very different world. Premiering four years after we last saw these characters, the third season of Sam Levinson’s Emmy winner sometimes feels like a shadow of its former self, a program about young people trying to find who they are that is struggling through an identity crisis of its own, but there are just enough times when that shadow springs to life that it’s not so easily dismissed as a relic that took too long to return.
On the one hand, the disjointed nature of the storytelling across the three episodes sent to press makes for a TV-watching experience that lacks consistent momentum. On the other hand, it’s a season that’s often about people stuck in their routines, unable to find direction in a world of side hustles that treat their bodies like means to ends. There are individual beats, scenes, and performances in these three episodes that spark with that energy that the show found at its best, but 2026 “Euphoria” feels more uncertain of what it’s doing or saying than ever before.
If the goal is to reflect a lack of direction or focus in the quarter-life crises of its characters through a show that also can’t maintain a train of thought, then mission accomplished. But that feels like an awfully shallow sentiment for a generation that’s constantly trying to find new ways to keep its head above water.
The Rue (Zendaya) of 2026 isn’t battling addiction as much as what her addiction wrought. It turns out that the theft from unexpected crime boss Laurie (Martha Kelly) has turned her into a drug mule, literally using her body to transport product across the Mexican border. While she uses her body literally, Cassie (Sydney Sweeney) does so virtually, re-introduced dressed like a dog in lingerie to appease a very precise corner of the internet. Cassie is trying to raise extra funds for her dream wedding to now-entrepreneur Nate (Jacob Elordi)—including a $50k flower bill—by doing whatever it takes online, including opening an OnlyFans account.
Of course, other familiar faces return. Lexi (Maude Apatow) is working in Hollywood with a power player portrayed by Sharon Stone, while Maddy (Alexa Demie) circles a similar world of celebrities and influencers. At its best, Levinson and company seem to be commenting on the increasingly shallowness of, well, everything. Weddings are funded by softcore porn, celebrities care more about their online persona than their abilities, and the alleged sins of the world, like drugs and sex, are the only viable escapes from it all. Real happiness, whatever that may mean, is as brief and elusive as a drug high or a one-night stand. And if it’s true in your teens, it’s still true in your twenties.
Interestingly, the world has seen the stars of “Euphoria” develop their skills outside the show, and many of them bring what they’ve learned back to their familiar characters. Most of all, Zendaya slides right back into what I still consider her best performance. There’s a jittery, anxious energy that the “Dune” star brings to Rue that I really wish more film writers and directors would find a way to let her explore on screen. This version of Rue has essentially embraced the chaos, bouncing from Laurie’s grip into the sphere of a dangerous crime lord named Alamo (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje). Zendaya sketches her as a reactive creature, someone who has faced so many hurdles that she just jumps when there isn’t even one in front of her. It’s another truly great turn, the best thing about the season, and, again, the best of Zendaya’s career.
Of course, Sweeney, Schafer, and Elordi have also seen their stocks skyrocket. They flow right back into these roles as if they never left, but they almost seem above the material at times. Elordi has been so nuanced in work like “On Swift Horses” and “Frankenstein,” but he’s hampered here by a shallow presentation of Cal through three episodes. (One hopes that changes over the subsequent five episodes of the season.) Sweeney again nails the fragility of a woman who’s so obsessed with image and opinion but can’t understand how fleetingly those things make her happy. Schafer doesn’t really do much until the third episode, but she glows under the chance to portray a happier Jules, one who seems in control of her own happiness more than at any other point in the series.
And yet what does it all mean? There’s a conversation in the second episode in which Maddy tells Cassie that she’s being too desperate instead of being herself. “Who am I?” asks Cassie, as if desperation to please IS being herself. “Euphoria” often has a similar problem: Pushing into shock value and even scenes that feel designed for TikTok virality. As often as a performer’s choice rises above the artifice of it all, that hollowness always returns, especially with a trio of episodes that struggle to maintain a narrative throughline.
To start the third season, “Euphoria” seems to be saying that being in your twenties in the ‘20s exists on the surface of humanity, chasing highs through meaningless elements like drugs, sex, and online virality. If these characters were shallow, broken creatures when they were teenagers at the start of the show, this season seems to be building to the idea that we can’t just mature out of those habits because our birth certificate implies we should. To that end, the hollow chaos may be the point.
Only time will tell if Levinson and company can turn what is essentially just the setup for the season into a payoff that feels deeper and more focused. Or if it will be content to reflect the uncertainty of its characters through storytelling that can feel maddeningly uncertain itself.
Three episodes screened for review. Premieres on Sunday, April 12 on HBO.