There is a principle that art is subjective. What speaks to one person stands to isolate another, never revealing their full intentions. For those who recognize the language, it’s sometimes a profound statement that lingers in their heart. A single moment can stick in the memory for years and decades. That is one of the amazing things about the human condition. While we all exist at the same time, our experiences will differ greatly, rarely intersecting for more than a second. What makes art profound in this context, when time is so short that our minds are constantly distracted, looking for meaning?
I understand that Euphoria qualifies as a TV special/episode, but it would be difficult to think of anything that resonated as much to me as “F*ck Anyone Who’s Not a Sea Blob.” The second HBO special was one that I continually revisited, each time finding something more personal and vulnerable underneath its words. What I found was something that may have been geared at Generation Z, but spoke to something that I recognized a bit too clearly. In the impeccable script by star Hunter Schafer, I saw the life of Jules unfold over an hour in such a way that reflected what loneliness in a digital world actually feels like.
With the exception of Eighth Grade (2018), I don’t know that I’ve seen the psychological impact of the internet reflected so perfectly on film. As much as I avoid popular trends, don’t buy the latest technology, I have done so as a bit of fear. As someone who obsessively researches everything I like, I personally bought into the idea that you were going to develop mental illness if you spent too much time on the internet. Selfies created a culture of body dysmorphia. Video games created a disconnection from reality. I realize that these are broad overviews, but what I eventually began to realize was that as much as I wasn’t addicted in that way, I was still forming my own disillusionment.
Almost two weeks ago now, I suffered another mental breakdown. The longer that I think about the root causes, the more it was because of the internet. I’m not a doom-scroller. However, there was a moment where Jules suggests that she only feels “real” online, and suddenly things began to click. Without a fulfilling social life, I had taken to the internet, believing that being personal was somehow going to be personal salvation. I’ve realized that my early 20s were especially bad at this, as I practically couldn’t wake up without saying things. To me, it was a form of documentation, where I got to see my words. Having an audience in some ways validates that emotion, and it was the right mix of negative emotion to make me feel alone in the world.
What makes “F*ck Anyone Who’s Not a Sea Blob” a masterpiece is how it slowly strips away at the protective shield of Jules until it gets to the root causes. She starts the story by wanting to be taken off her hormones, refusing to answer why she ran away. In one of the most provocative and effective images I’ve seen, the camera cuts to Jules’ eyes, Lorde’s “Liability” plays as we see the whole season play out. There’s so much pain as Lorde sings about people leaving her, growing bored, and being a “little much for me.” Every word could’ve been written for this special. Even if she’s not crying, the audience already is, looking into a young mind that is full of so much joy and sadness, memories vivid and repressed. With a therapist in tow, we’re going to get to the heart of things slowly but surely.
Every time Jules is confronted by that pain, she takes a moment to comment on something. As a transgender woman, she begins on the most exterior shell: her appearance. Everything she culminated for love, realizing that it was hollow. Even when dealing with female friendships, there was a strategy, a hierarchy to how they really saw her. Online she could be something “real,” culminating an image that was truer to how she saw herself. There was an addiction to it, even at the heartbreaking realization that only one person ever saw “the me underneath the million layers of not me”: her girlfriend Rue (Zendaya), who may or may not still love her.
Without reveling too much in the specifics, what follows is a therapy session cribbed in the deconstruction of her identity. It starts with her wants, speaking of how she wants to be like the ocean (“the ocean is strong as fuck”) before taking a few deep breaths, trying to protect the fondness for Rue as long as she can. She discusses problematic home life, even a relationship with shyguy118 who exists as nothing more but words and images online. To her, that was real life, the one contradiction to everything else, and it’s where the story enters some profound territory.
Why is the internet Jules’ safe space? Why does it feel so real to the point of orgasmic sex? Jules believes she’s experiencing something real, but Rue knows otherwise. Her infatuation with this happiness consumes her, where even the idea that she can’t see his face doesn’t bother her until it does. The lack of photos overwhelms her, looking back into a room of darkness. She was alone. Director Sam Levinson perfectly displays the deconstruction of her mind, where peripheral details try to warn her of her delusions, but it isn’t enough. She has created some form of grief that she can’t escape. It’s all that she has.
Schafer’s performance here is impeccable. While the showier scenes allow the story to expand with amazing gut-punches, it’s most effective when nothing is going on. Jules is sitting across from her therapist, discovering something authentic about her in real-time. It’s doubtful that she’s ever stopped to think about these details in a constructive manner. Some of them may come across as irrational, but there are moments when clarity breaks through. With her eyes widening, lips pursing, she divulges details in such a manner that understands the soul. The first time that Rue’s name is mentioned, she smiles. When Jules addresses her own fears, there is a twitch in her eyes, that judgment will break her down like it has at school.
The performance is so tender, where the slightest provocation seeks to open up another wound. It’s clear that even in the real world, Jules has created something fake to combat rejection. It is difficult for her to ever feel genuine. The only one who comes close is Rue, whose own vulnerable state as a recovering addict makes them outcasts. Nobody understands them quite like each other. They know the pain of dysfunction, the inability to ever feel normal. Together they’re complementary, a ying to a yang. Without each other, they’re insecure and empty, needing someone to listen.
One can argue that not much changes throughout these two specials, and yet it feels essential to what makes Euphoria a phenomenal series. Beyond the taboo subjects are these humans trying to experience joy. As the common memes of today will suggest, that’s near impossible… and that’s before you realize that the show’s first season aired before a global pandemic that made everyone even more isolated, feeling even more hopeless. It’s what made these two specials ring even truer, coming at the end of 2020, when most of us just want someone to listen, finding a reason to live when the world is just so cruel.
“F*ck Anyone Who’s Not a Sea Blob” is an amazing achievement on every front. From an acting and writing standpoint, Schafer has a strong control of her character. She understands the pain of being young and alive in the 21st century, capturing the insecurities in several boxes that together make one woman trying to feel like she belongs. The way she’s able to stop and start exchanges, capturing the reluctance to open up is perfect. The therapist is nonjudgmental, managing to serve more as a moderator than a guide, allowing the big moments to land even stronger. Schafer’s revelations are powerful in their quietness, finding a soul opening up and realizing things that a clouded mind, obsessed with being fake in the real world and real in the fake one, wouldn’t realize. Sure it comes with emotional instability, but by the end, there’s a sense that healing can begin.
At 31, I can’t claim to understand “the youth” of today. However, Schafer spoke directly to things that I had struggled with over the past two weeks. As a piece of art, it allowed me to begin seeing my own flaws as a person, the reality that I was suffering from my own disillusions regarding online friendships. While I can argue that what I seek is more platonic, the idea of being without a personal friend in a pandemic has been horrifying, and I saw Twitter as a ground to make friends that were personal, and yet they weren’t.
It’s allowed me to think about so much, including being in high school and having an online “relationship” with a woman I met on MySpace. I can’t say it affects me terribly, but I understand what it means to feel like you’re in love. The desperation of being accepted and having a personal bond is so addictive, and it clouds your view of the real world. I haven’t had that strong of a feeling in almost 17 years, and the past three months have been exhausting understanding boundaries. I know that I can care about people, but love? Love is where things get dangerous.
As a result, I’m confused. The world has been an overwhelming place to live, and all I want is someone to listen. Having enough bad days in a row can throw off your perception of this reality, realizing that what’s real and meaningful has been ignored in favor of this constructed reality. Who knows? Maybe you were just ignored because they were busy. Learning to not be so codependent on validation is hard, especially if you have fear of abandonment issues.
Because of this special, I do believe that it’s forced me to take a closer assessment of my life and what matters. I’m still a bit unstable, but I’m trying to take stock of what matters and it has made a difference. I want to end by suggesting that it’s okay to step away from the internet for a little bit and notice what makes reality a wonderful place to live. The struggle to balance reality and fantasy is difficult, asking us how honest we are with ourselves. Who are we a liability to? As much as the opening suggests that it’s probably Rue and the endless targets she addresses here, it’s likely that it’s her as well, stuck under those million layers of not me.
All we can do is try to figure out who our authentic selves are. For some, the journey is a lifelong struggle. Reaching out is the first step, making actual contact. When there is someone out there who is willing to listen without judging, the world feels fuller, like there’s reason to live. I want to thank Schafer for making this powerful work. I hope others who have seen this are able to feel some compassion whether for themselves or others, being able to listen to whoever has problems, making the world feel like a safer place to be honest.
I’m trying to get there, though it’s still a journey. This is a perfect depiction of what it means to have a life on the internet, pulling together memories that can’t amount to physical touch, of mementos that live on your bedside table. It isn’t all bad, but when you’re suffering from mental issues, it can be hell. I wish Jules luck in recovery. All I wanted to do by the end was hug her, believing that tomorrow can be better. At least because of Euphoria, I feel like I’m noticing that value in myself a lot clearer than I did in the days before. That alone makes this an essential piece of art, creating catharsis and understanding in every word. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, Hunter Schafer. This really did help.
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