This monologue might have worked better if it wasn’t so self-victimizing. This bloated scene is equally frustrating and hilarious in its execution, from Eric Dane’s over-the-top drunk-acting to his bombastic spiel about repression and shame. He then drives back home where he comes out to his family in the most obnoxious and deranged fashion. But he makes it safely to the bar where he kissed Derek back in the day and slow-dances with another man before getting himself kicked out. It feels like a fatal accident is about to happen, which honestly would’ve been a better alternative to what occurs later on. Then we get a million cutaways to him driving wildly on a freeway. He starts drinking by himself and harassing Nate before he goes to Maddy’s party. Unfortunately, we get less of that and more of Cal, whose spiraling sucks the air out of this episode. Still, there’s nothing inherently interesting about this sisterly dynamic without hearing more of Lexi’s perspective. This moment becomes material for her play, as we watch several girls audition for Cassie’s character. When Lexi inquires about Cassie’s weight in another scene, Cassie quickly shuts her down. But what’s actually going on in her brain besides a diary of other people’s problems? There are multiple shots of Lexi watching Cassie make bad decisions throughout the night, but she doesn’t say anything. It’s been well-established, starting in season one, that Lexi is quiet and observant. Lexi’s presence at the party reaffirmed the worry I expressed last week about this whole “more than just a supporting character” bit. But we all know what she’s really apologizing for. Everyone, besides Nate, assumes she’s talking about the vomit. She starts crying and aggressively saying sorry to Maddy. At the end of the night, she ends up changing into a sexy bathing suit to get Nate’s attention and vomiting on everyone when they sit in a jacuzzi. Regardless, she has a meltdown when Nate shows up at a birthday gathering she hosts for Maddy and starts guzzling alcohol. It’s hard to tell whether Cassie is suffering more from guilt, as we watch her look through scrapbook photos of her and Maddy, or disappointment that Nate is emotionally unavailable to her. There’s a point when Cassie tries to justify their hooking-up with the fact that Nate and Maddy were split, to which Nate responds, “that is a comfort to nobody but you!” like he’s reciting Shakespeare. This scene’s direction and dialogue gave me flashbacks to Levinson’s 2021 film Malcolm and Marie with all the primal screaming and awkward rebuttals. Hence, she gets into an argument with Nate when she finds he met up with Maddy to try to rekindle their relationship. “You Who Cannot See, Think Of Those Who Can” spends a lot of time building suspense around whether Cassie will come clean. It’s safe to say Cassie and Nate’s affair and the hope that Fez and Lexi will ride off into the sunset has kept this season exciting. Likewise, she’s devastated when Elliot finally reveals that Rue hasn’t been sober. As much as Jules likes being physically desired, I wish she was written as a slightly better partner to Rue or at least honest enough to express that she’s not fulfilling her needs, considering that she’s genuinely concerned about Rue’s well-being. There’s a lot of flirting and rolling around and sucking thumbs. Unfortunately, I’m really not sure where else there is to go with this relapse storyline besides the most obvious outcome.Īs most of us predicted last week, Jules and Elliot’s relationship becomes sexual. This episode, she falls into the arms of Labrinth playing a cantor in a literal coming-t0-Jesus sequence after getting high again. Most of her relationships are either significantly damaged or extremely fragile at this point. She’s had several near-death experiences. The fact that he had to throw in a drug-dealing subplot to add more stakes to her already precarious life is telling. And that interiority is a bunch of crap.Īs far as the story goes, Sam Levinson has seemingly run out of ways to make Rue’s drug addiction compelling or even nerve-wracking to watch. It’s frustrating that Kat and Maddy are being sidelined in order to give Cal, of all people, some interiority. But the time we spent exploring each character in season one felt more balanced, at least. And honestly, I have a better time consuming it as a teenage, R-rated Seinfeld. I can’t say that the series has ever been laser-focused on what it wants to say about modern adolescence. I’ve read quite a few complaints that Euphoria’s second season, so far, is a meandering, pointless mess.
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