Euphoria
This Little Piggy
Season 3
Episode 5
Editor’s Rating
2 stars
**
The ensemble’s plotlines finally converge, thanks in large part to Maddy and Cassie’s legendary OnlyFans run.
Photo: Eddy Chen
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As Euphoria’s third season enters its back half, our ensemble’s plotlines are, at long last, converging. Maddy and Cassie have reunited for a legendary OnlyFans run, and by the end of this episode, Maddy has gone into business with Alamo, which is not a bad idea for either of them. But in this merging process, several threads have been left behind. We don’t know what the state of Nate’s Sun Settlers development is, only that he’s still in deep shit with Naz. Despite the fact that Cassie keeps wiring him $30,000 installments, Nate is still missing payments. When Naz’s crook comes to check in on him, he detaches Nate’s sewn-up pinky toe and clips off his ring finger, just for good measure. Nate is two digits down, and how far into his payment plan again?
The finger amputation doesn’t shock quite as much on the second instance. Besides, Nate, as a character, has all but evaporated into Cassie’s outsized arc, which has taken over the season. This week’s episode opens with a whopping ten-minute sequence of Cassie’s OnlyFans adventures, which are making both Cassie and Maddy rich. By the end of the montage, Cassie has over 50,000 subscribers. She sucks her own toes. She does ASMR, sends cards, eats in front of the camera, sells her underwear, and is asked to fart in a jar for $700, which she persuades Maddy to do instead. She goes on podcasts (it’s here that we get the much-anticipated, extremely brief Trisha Paytas cameo as a podcast host) to parrot trad-adjacent, right-wing ideas, like the notion that men, who used to be “hunters,” are being “forced to walk around on their tippy toes.” The irony is, of course, that she is the provider in her own family unit. As Maddy puts it, Nate is a “bread loser,” not a “breadwinner,” and if Cassie isn’t careful, he’ll soon be coming for his share.
This hurricane of attention is presented as Cassie’s biggest dreams finally coming true. She is hysterical with fulfillment. She has become so big for her own world that she explodes out of her cheetah-print jumpsuit to become a Godzilla-like monster, trampling all over Hollywood. She steps on a homeless man. She approaches the skyscraper office of a businessman who jerks off to one of her videos, then presses her boobs into the glass, obliterating the office. She has been “unleashed”; she has made it.
Cassie’s aspirations to porn-stardom make sense in the context of her character. At least since McKay, Cassie has equated sexual prowess with importance, and not in the sense of standing out above others, but as in someone whose life is worth preserving. But at this point, this aspect of her character has been stretched so thin, it’s on the verge of tearing like Cassie’s Spanx. Watching Sydney Sweeney rise to the challenge with admirable gameness, I was reminded of Margot Robbie in Greta Gerwig’s Barbie (2023). That was a tough assignment for Robbie: At least for the first half of the film, she played a literal doll, a character with no interiority. But by the end of the film, Barbie has acquired interiority and has become a person. Cassie’s arc is reversed. It started with dark, compelling interiority — a minefield of discoveries about what her body was for — and has been steadily marching towards obliteration. Cassie began as a person and became an inflated doll.
Despite the show’s obvious contempt for Cassie and for sex workers in general (in the Godzilla analogy, a realized Cassie is literally a monster), Cassie remains the most active character in the cast. Maddy’s arc has built with some momentum, but Rue is a chess piece being moved this way and that by the war between Alamo and Laurie (to say nothing of Lexi, Jules, and Nate, all benched). In the aftermath of the robbery at the Slipper, Alamo schemes with Bishop, G, and Kidd to get his money back from Laurie. Bishop asks Rue to draw a map of Laurie’s farm, hoping to work in an element of surprise in their siege. Alamo is on edge from what he perceives as a betrayal from Eddy (not giving his life for the safe) and the pants Kidd picked out for him, which are too short, like they’re meant for “an itty bitty nobody.” Alamo gets so worked up that he threatens Kidd with an ice pick.
Big Eddy, R.I.P., ends up getting killed over the robbery. It was Colonel Mustard (Bishop) in the library (plastic-wrapped bathroom) with a candlestick (electric saw). Before he goes about his business, Bishop tells Rue that she gives him “the heebie-jeebies.” Ever since she arrived at the Slipper, bad things have kept happening. Rue is positively freaked out by the time Alamo calls her downstairs. Alamo tells her that Laurie has requested a meeting with him, and asks her where she thinks Laurie would squirrel away the contents of his safe (Rue guesses the basement). She relays the information to the Feds, who tell her that she has to make sure she is at the meeting, with her phone on. They have Rue call Laurie, hoping Laurie will incriminate herself so they can wiretap her. But Laurie hangs up on Rue almost immediately. So, Rue goes for the next best thing. She catches Wayne watching Pretty Woman with Faye. His bragging that Rue’s former job as a drug mule has been filled is incriminating enough for the Feds; the plan is a-go.
Meanwhile, Cassie gets talked into joining Brandon Fontaine’s TikTok collab house. As far as I can tell, this season takes place in the present — we’re past the pandemic and, if Cassie’s podcast appearances are any indication, in step with the manosphere’s ascendence in the digital realm. In that context, a “collab house” seems outdated (as does the fact that Brandon’s cadre of choreographed TikTokers dance to Charli XCX’s “Apple,” which went viral in 2024). These teenage-inhabited mansions were really popular right before the pandemic, but many of their biggest stars have outgrown their beginnings, with popstar Addison Rae being perhaps the most salient example. In any case, Brandon talks Cassie into signing a contract by downplaying Maddy’s power (she’s not a “real manager,” only an assistant, a point that is underscored by the sight of Maddy literally cleaning shit from Ms. Penzler’s office carpet) and inflating his own role in Cassie’s rise to fame (she only makes money because he tags her in his posts).
As it happens, Nate agrees with Brandon that Cassie should join the house. In fact, he thinks that Cassie might benefit from hinting that she’s in a relationship with Brandon by posting “erotic, tasteful” videos of them, like in a hot tub. Cassie is disturbed that Nate, who all but risked his life to get her the wedding florals she wanted rather than let her post on OnlyFans, isn’t jealous of Brandon. But Nate is desperate for money, and Cassie’s adventures into porn are passive income for him. He’s also basically a non-character, so it doesn’t really matter. Always happy to follow men’s directions, Cassie meets Maddy at her apartment, where she proceeds to affect a number of emotions — hostility, pity, regret, excitement, and always pride — before announcing that they have to part ways, business-wise. Maddy picks up the phone to cancel an audition she had arranged for Cassie on Lexi’s soap, L.A. Nights, since she no longer represents her. Maddy’s manipulation works: Cassie signs a contract with Maddy on the spot, despite having already signed Brandon’s contract.
Having gotten what she needed from Cassie, Maddy then sets out to actually secure the L.A. Nights audition, which was a bluff. It’s too easy to get Lexi to call the casting directors. All it takes is for Maddy to threaten: “You wanna make me an enemy?” Why should Lexi care? She has her own life! Besides, she’s upset that Cassie has once again stolen her thunder, just like she did with the play. This is the kind of narrative shortcut that flattens characters brimming with potential: Wouldn’t it be more interesting to watch Lexi try and blacklist Cassie’s name from the casting pool, prompting Maddy to think on her feet, or leading to a real confrontation between the Howard sisters? Instead, what we get is a bosomy Cassie bouncing into the lot, signing her name as “Cassie HOWARD” and doing a pouty rendition of a monologue from Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra. We don’t know why Patty Lance and the unnamed L.A. Nights director don’t have sides for Cassie’s role, which is “Job Applicant,” surely not the kind of role that requires producers to check for an actor’s range. Anyway, Cassie books it. Lexi is annoyed. Cassie is, once again, hysterical. When Lexi accuses Cassie of being selfish and narcissistic, she beams: “That’s what it takes to make it in this town.”
Euphoria has plateaued at a shrill note: The world is evil! Show business ruins otherwise well-intentioned people! I get it, but it wouldn’t hurt to see a glimpse of humanity every once in a while. I think that’s what the sequence between Rue and Jules is going for, but even their once electric chemistry has been dulled to complacency. Rue goes over to Jules’s penthouse to hang out for the first time since the wedding. Jules wants to know about Rue’s recent dating history, and Rue tells her about Angel, presenting their parking lot trysts as a “passionate, turbulent” romance between two women who were “definitely” in love. They embark on a cryptic back-and-forth about what they want from each other. Jules says that if Rue wants her, she will have to “take” her, “make me yours.” The scene cuts to sounds of moaning, and then Jules having sex with Ellis. He finds Rue’s plaid boxers in his closet and worries that Jules is bringing other men into the apartment, putting him at risk of STDs. “I like you, but I love my family,” he tells Jules, cruelly, before throwing the boxers in her face.
In a way, Rue and Jules’s exchange is a perfect encapsulation of what’s missing from both of their character developments. What do they actually want, from each other and from themselves? It’s a great question that’s impossible to answer where Jules is concerned, because she only appears onscreen to reference, solicit, or provide sex to her scene partner, but Rue, at least, has a clear “want”: She wants to stay alive. And out of prison, if possible.
Magick finds the drugs that Rue had planted in her locker and runs to tell Alamo that Rue can’t be trusted. She was in the middle of telling Big Eddy exactly the same thing when they got robbed. Alamo realizes that it’s strange that Rue wouldn’t have recognized Wayne and Harley’s voices during the robbery, before ID’ing them from the security footage. This point seems kind of moot, because Rue did identify them after all — it’s not like she withheld information. Still, it’s enough to put a bug in Alamo’s ear. He finds Rue at a diner, talking to Maddy, who is explaining to Rue the concept of “equanimity.” Before Maddy can begin discoursing on Jesus, Alamo approaches them and takes a seat. He introduces himself to Maddy and instructs Rue to meet G and Bishop in a car outside. Maddy can tell something is up, but chalks it up to Alamo being a slightly shady strip club owner. Rue tries to get Maddy to leave: Isn’t she supposed to go somewhere? But instead of bailing, Maddy decides to wait for her milkshake. Alamo stays with her.
Bishop and G drive Rue back to Alamo’s house. On the same cliffside where Alamo shot at an apple on her head, they give Rue a shovel and instruct her to start digging. If you have ever seen even one movie, you know that’s not a good sign. They tell Rue to dig until the walls of the hole reach her throat, and then, wordlessly, they bury her up to her head. In the meantime, at the diner, Maddy gives Alamo the rundown of her business: She takes 15 percent of Cassie’s earnings, which she projects will reach $1 million per month in the next 6 months. Looking at pictures of Cassie, it occurs to Alamo that he employs several girls with a similar look. He takes Maddy to the Silver Slipper, to “look over inventory” with the idea that Maddy could manage two or three of his girls on OnlyFans. He’d get 15 percent of the cut, too. Their business talk notwithstanding, Maddy and Alamo hit it off. No one can intimidate Maddy Perez. At the Slipper, she picks Magick and Kitty for her portfolio. When he gets home, Alamo saddles his horse and rides in Rue’s direction. She only has her head out of the dirt. She watches as Alamo gallops toward her, swinging a polo mallet. The episode ends before we can see if the mallet hits her in the head, but we know she can’t die… She’s the protagonist! As much as the show might try to convince us otherwise.
• As the Feds are waiting for Rue before they call Laurie, we see them framed with one arm hanging out of the car, cigarette in hand. That’s the same framing as the stake-out car watching Rue when she dropped off Angel at the “rehab”/human-trafficking hub in episode two, which seems to sort of retroactively explain how they got to her in the first place.
• Another reason we know Alamo can’t kill Rue is that she is the one who knows her way around Laurie’s farm, a point that is made several times this week: Bishop asks her for the map (which we don’t see her draw), and later Alamo asks if Rue knows where his money might be kept in the house (Rue guesses in the basement). At this point, Rue’s value both to Alamo’s operation and to the DEA relies on her erstwhile closeness to Laurie, which might create some compelling narrative tension: The two forces influencing Rue need her in the room for opposite reasons. Even then, I’m still bothered by the fact that there is very little decision-making coming from Rue herself. She is given no room to do anything. Even in the one scene this week when she could have made a choice, with Jules, we cut before we know how she’ll react.
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