Products You May Like
As far as anyone can tell, there isn’t much that actually happens over the course of Lexi Howard’s semi-autobiographical play, which consumes the bulk of Euphoria season 2’s penultimate episode. Lexi, as herself, debates the importance of social status within the high school hierarchy; compares her late-blooming breasts to her sister’s far more considerable assets; smokes weed for the first time; and, well, comes of age in a world that, she feels, is leaving her behind.
The themes of her production mirror the themes of Euphoria itself. The plot is similarly unfocused, even ludicrous. Case in point: Lexi’s play seems to wrap Act 1 with Ethan, as the Nate Jacobs-inspired “Jake,” gyrating against a set of dumbbells with an accompanying chorus of shirtless jocks. In a sweaty, fog machine-induced haze, they shriek, leap, flex and wag tongues to Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding Out For A Hero.” Is such a display narratively nonsensical? Absolutely. Is it also delicious to watch? Well, why else are we here?
Given its subject matter, most of episode 7 operates as a retrospective. The camera glides between past and present, reality and almost-reality, as the stand-ins for real characters (in the play, Cassie is “Hallie,” Maddy is “Marta,” Kat is “Luna,” Rue is “Jade,” and so on) mimic Lexi’s core memories on stage. Offstage, the real Lexi’s drunk on directorial power; she snaps at a tearful co-star and threatens to fire her lighting guy, though we can assume—since this is, after all, high school theater—that he’s a volunteer.
Occasionally, without warning, real director Sam Levinson’s eye turns from the aesthetic whirlwind of the performance back to “reality”: We learn, for instance, that Fez and Lexi’s budding flirtation has solidified into romance. Jules and Rue haven’t spoken since the intervention. Rue’s little sister, Gia, isn’t doing so hot—she’s earning Ds in school, regularly attending detention, and missing out on sleep. Kat’s once again fished out her cat ears for cam sessions, while Cassie’s even more obsessed with seducing Nate, who’s having some deeply disturbing nightmares about his father’s own sexual proclivities.
Meanwhile, over at Fez’s humble abode, Custer’s dropped by for a dangerous chat. Faye knows he intends to cooperate with the police, and so, it seems, might Ashtray, who slips a boxcutter into his pocket as he slides into an armchair beside Custer. But Fez, scooping up a bouquet of roses for Lexi in the other room, seems blissfully ignorant of the foreshadowed violence. All we know is this: Hours later, he’s still not in the house seat Lexi saved for him. By the end of episode 7, we aren’t sure if he makes it to the play in one piece.
This content is imported from Twitter. You may be able to find the same content in another format, or you may be able to find more information, at their web site.
This content is imported from Twitter. You may be able to find the same content in another format, or you may be able to find more information, at their web site.
This content is imported from Twitter. You may be able to find the same content in another format, or you may be able to find more information, at their web site.
The camera flits between scenes and settings as Lexi relives happy moments, like dancing with her father, and devastating ones, like “Marta” temporarily moving in while her parents argue at home. At one point, agitated by her doppelgänger’s depiction of her romance with Nate, Cassie leaves the theater to finger-comb her hair in the bathroom mirror. She stares, dead-eyed, as she forces a fake smile on her lips. She tries it again. Then again. Never once does it look convincing.
The only audience members who seem to enjoy their fictionalized selves are Rue and Suze, Cassie and Lexi’s mom. Perhaps Rue is all too aware of her shortcomings to see her depiction as anything less than flattering, while Suze is delighted by her mere presence in Lexi’s memories. When Ethan storms the stage for his “Holding Out For A Hero” number, they both unleash whoops of joy—perhaps Rue’s first since her drug withdrawal. That’s not to say Ethan is undeserving of such praise. No one else could make a Nate Jacobs character this likable, simply by way of theater-kid bravado.
This content is imported from Twitter. You may be able to find the same content in another format, or you may be able to find more information, at their web site.
This content is imported from Twitter. You may be able to find the same content in another format, or you may be able to find more information, at their web site.
This content is imported from Twitter. You may be able to find the same content in another format, or you may be able to find more information, at their web site.
This content is imported from Twitter. You may be able to find the same content in another format, or you may be able to find more information, at their web site.
Nate, unfortunately, is not a fan of the homoerotic display, nor its implications. In a spectacular pot-meet-kettle scene, he tells Cassie that her sister’s play is “homophobic,” then tops off his complaint with an order: “Pack your shit.” Thanks to Lexi soaring a tad too close to the sun, Cassie’s rudderless, left without the lover for whom she’s sacrificed everything. But you can be sure she’s clung tightly to her rage; her rabid breathing against the theater window makes that abundantly clear.
This content is imported from Twitter. You may be able to find the same content in another format, or you may be able to find more information, at their web site.
Euphoria episode 7 wraps with a simple “to be continued…,” the hallmark of television serials eager to provoke an already tempestuous audience. Despite Lexi’s (and Levinson’s) best intentions, the finale has huge swaths of ground to cover if it’s to end this season with a satisfied fanbase. We’ll just have to hope a real hero’s ready to show their face.
This content is created and maintained by a third party, and imported onto this page to help users provide their email addresses. You may be able to find more information about this and similar content at piano.io