Has the world moved on from Euphoria?

And while that once gave the show an edge, today, it feels out of touch with the conversations we’re having about ethical filmmaking and responsible storytelling. Audiences are tired of seeing young bodies brutalized on screen, particularly female bodies, in ways that feel exploitative.

Zendaya recently hinted that the third season of Euphoria would involve a “big time jump,” with Rue entering a new, more adult phase of life. But after two seasons of spiraling addiction and self-destruction, do we really need to see Rue still drowning, still struggling? Growth, healing — these are the narratives we’re craving now. Characters who can evolve, not ones trapped in endless loops of suffering.

And then there’s Angus Cloud. His portrayal of Fezco offered one of the few genuinely soft elements of Euphoria. Fez’s character wasn’t consumed by the chaos around him; he existed on its margins, embodying a rare kind of stillness.

Cloud’s death at just 25 hit Euphoria’s fanbase hard, leaving the idea of another season feeling hollow. Fez was the heart of a show that at many points felt heartless. Without him, another season feels unnecessary.

There’s also the issue of timing. By the time Euphoria’s third season actually hits our screens — assuming it does — nearly three years will have passed since the last episode aired. That’s an eternity in the landscape of youth media. Trends, tastes, and social touchpoints have shifted dramatically.

In the time since Euphoria ended, shows like Heartstopper, Sex Education, and The Summer I Turned Pretty have emerged, offering representations of young people that still address real issues, but with a warmth and optimism Euphoria lacks.

These shows are not escapist fluff. They deal with issues like mental health, queerness, and identity, but they do so without fetishizing pain. They reflect a shift in what viewers are asking for: we want stories that allow for both suffering and joy, for connection without chaos.

Euphoria’s bleakness, once seen as a necessary reflection of youth in crisis, now feels more damaging than real. The shock tactics that once felt cutting-edge now seem overwrought. And with the world already feeling heavy enough, do we need more media that glamorises self-destruction?

At its peak, Euphoria captured the attention of a generation already teetering on the edge. But in 2024, we’re tired of being pushed over that precipice. The appetite for glamorised pain and glorified dysfunction has dwindled, replaced by a desire for softer, more meaningful representations of growing up.

So no, the world may not need Euphoria anymore. We’re seeking a kinder – if no less honest – world. And that should mean kinder television, too.