Much of Euphoria Season 2 has been undermined by a lack of structure and general uncertainty about what story it wants to tell. With only one episode left, it’s hard to guess any one conclusion or whether certain plot points will even be addressed in the finale. One thing viewers have been able to look forward to, however, is Lexi’s autobiographical school play and what it will supposedly reveal about who she is beyond an observer of everyone else’s drama.
Unfortunately, her production, which takes up the majority of “The Theater And Its Double,” only exposes the overarching defects in Sam Levinson’s storytelling this season, primarily his inability to look beyond the tragic pasts he’s sketched out for his characters and imagine a compelling present and future.
Last December, The New Yorker published an essay by Parul Sehgal called “The Case Against The Trauma Plot” that went viral. It analyzed how the invocation of trauma in works of art can reduce a character to a set of symptoms, limiting the possibilities of their development and an entire story. This article came to mind several times watching this episode, which is mostly background that we’ve witnessed before and even some repeated moments from the past two episodes.
“Our Life” is a bunch of visually elaborate vignettes with not a lot to say. We get a brief glimpse into Lexi’s psyche—mostly her desire for Cassie’s boobs—as she breaks the fourth wall, but the play primarily features her observations of other people. This was partially expected, as Lexi summarized her show last week as a theatrical interpretation of Euphoria, basically. However, nothing about Lexi’s version of events, from her dad’s drug use to her perception of Cassie to her altered friendship with Rue, is substantially different from the way Levinson has previously captured them or uncovers anything new.
It’s unclear how Lexi’s play went from a character study starring her, as the idea was first introduced, to a drag session of her peers. But it’s a glaring oversight throughout the episode. The play begins showing Lexi’s once close-knit friendship with Rue and her strained relationship with Cassie that seems primarily rooted in body image. She alludes to her tragic relationship with her father, as they dance in a living room. However, as the episode goes on, it feels like Lexi’s purpose in writing the play is to hold up a mirror to her dysfunctional peers as opposed to putting a much-needed spotlight on herself.
However ineffective and redundant I personally found this episode, Lexi’s play is, at times, amusing and quite astonishing in terms of scale. I’m not familiar with the typical budget or procedures of a Los Angeles high school theater department, but the ornate set design, which includes a revolving stage, costuming and makeup, lighting, huge, expensive props (there’s an actual streetlight) and eerily precise doppelgängers is excessive and seems unfeasible. This observation is probably silly in the context of Euphoria. Needless to say, it feels like we’re watching a fantasy of Lexi as this fully realized boss, as opposed to an actual high-school production.
Throughout the play, the camera cuts to an empty seat meant for Fez who’s taking light years to get dressed and get out the door. While he’s getting ready, Custer arrives as part of a setup for the cops, leaving his phone out to record Fez. Like clockwork, Ashtray senses that something is wrong and joins Custer in the living room, secretly wielding a knife.
Meanwhile, Lexi’s play has become a full-on roast. On top of the fact that this entire project puts her friends and family’s issues on blast, it has an overly caustic tone that feels strange. By far, the most mocking portrayal we see is of Nate, who gets a homoerotic dance sequence set in a locker room that ends in a punching bag and two exercise balls forming a penis. Apparently, Lexi, who has been purported to be thoughtful and good-natured, is capable of outing someone in front of their entire school. And somehow, the school has allowed her to do it. It’s unclear whether we should be laughing at this moment because Nate’s a bad person or agreeing with him later on that it’s homophobic.
Likewise, Nate ends up running out of the auditorium after the scene. Cassie follows to console him, but he’s so furious that he breaks up with her and evicts her from his bedroom that he made into their apartment last week.
The episode ends with Cassie furiously staring through the auditorium door at her sister’s play with a demonic look on her face. Her eyes are bulging out of her skull, and she’s panting so hard that she’s fogged up most of the window. Throughout this episode, Cassie looks noticeably different from the angelic girl-next-door she once embodied. There’s a certain pathos we experience watching her pretend to smile in the mirror with pin-straight hair and ridiculous eye makeup, knowing she’s not really happy with who she’s become. And the final scene seems to imply that she’s seconds away from a mental break.
Overall, “The Theater And Its Double” feels like Levinson retracing the same sketch over and over. To me, this becomes most obvious during another gratuitous sequence of Cassie and Nate frolicking in bed where Cal abruptly appears and lies on top of Nate’s naked body. Levinson is so careless with images that I’m not even sure whether he’s revealing that Cal sexually abused Nate or using some sort of sloppy visual metaphor. Either way, this type of jump scare feels irresponsible. But it’s mainly frustrating that he can’t envision who Nate is beyond a victim of his father. Or who Cassie is when she’s not receiving male attention. Or who Rue is when she’s not getting high.
Despite a compelling start to the season, this show has become an ouroboros of trauma with no idea what future it wants to paint for its ensemble. Certain characters’ behavior may be getting wilder and more absurd, but the show is severely lacking in motion.
