The final season of "Euphoria" concluded with two main characters dead, but perhaps no character was treated as poorly as Jules Vaughn (Hunter Schafer). Since the Season 3 premiere in early April, Jules has felt like an afterthought. Among the six original remaining characters, she has the least to do, appearing like a mirage before vanishing like a ghost. While Kat Hernandez (Barbie Ferreira) and Chris McKay (Algee Smith) were written out entirely, Jules suffers an even worse fate. Instead of a dramatic exit, she is relegated to the narrative's shadows, with no impact on the present or future, while being destroyed by both the writer and the fandom.
Social media reactions have been harsh. One user tweeted, "jules abandoned rue, betrayed her with elliot, and now she feels entitled to slap her for telling the truth? girl move on." Another wrote, "the way jules, elliot and rue's mother low key killed rue… if they never flushed those pills down the toilet she would have never been indebted to laurie and met alamo."
This is a far cry from how audiences first met Jules, a transgender woman who quickly became the talk of East Highland High. Both drug addict Rue and bad boy Nate Jacobs (Jacob Elordi) became fascinated by her, making her integral to Seasons 1 and 2. With Jules, "Euphoria" broke television molds for young people, showcasing her and her relationship with Rue Bennett (Zendaya) as a groundbreaking step for queer representation. Creator Sam Levinson seemed to spark a fire that ushered in a new era of transgender representation. Jules was not just an object of affection; she was a fully fleshed-out character, flawed in her own right, balancing selfishness and kindness, and never afraid to stand up for herself.
Yet as the series unfolded, Jules became an uncanny imitation of her former self. In Season 3, her lines feel stilted. Vapid phrases fall from her mouth, and insults toward Rue lack bite, as if they are so unlike her character that they struggle to emerge. When Jules and Rue eat takeout together, they argue about their relationship before Jules suggests Rue is still infatuated. "Push me on the bed, kiss me all over," she seductively urges. "You want more? Take it."
Jules and Rue have always had a complicated relationship, evolving from acquaintances to lovers to exes. But it never felt tumultuous enough for intentional physical or mental distress. However, "Euphoria" has transformed from a coming-of-age drama into a neo-western thriller, taking their relationship to new lows. During a spat, Jules slaps Rue across the face, knocking her off a stool. Here, Levinson makes clear that the old Jules no longer exists. What remains is a character so unlike her original conception that she appears as a doppelgänger.
Unlike her counterparts, Jules spends the season trapped in a gilded cage, confined to a sterilized apartment as a live-in sugar baby, peering out of glass windows like a domesticated bird. By trapping her in these four walls, Levinson dooms Jules to a life mirroring that of many trans women in media's past. It is statistically proven that trans women engage in sex work at higher rates than cis women, but Jules exists in a show once adamant about breaking down barriers of trans womanhood. This show has progressed from high school drama to a high-stakes thriller about drug trafficking and money laundering. Could Jules not get a nuanced storyline?
In this final season, Levinson often asks viewers to suspend disbelief. Yet for the only trans character, her storyline is grounded in a harsh reality she does not deserve. Instead of impacting the plot, we watch as her sugar daddy encases her in plastic wrap, imprisoning her behind a see-through haze, forcing her to become nothing more than an object. Her existence is diminished to what her physical appearance offers men, with no substance warranting commentary on modern realities.
Jules' presence has been warped not by her own motives but by those around her. Since "F**k Anyone Who's Not a Sea Blob," a special episode Schafer helped write between Seasons 1 and 2, Jules has been stripped of her interiority, leaving a shell of one of modern television's most complex women. Jules was once a character who altered "Euphoria's" foundation. Instead of leaving a mark on the final season's narrative and cultural impact, her reputation as a series-defining character has been squandered into a trope-ified representation of trans existence. It is a hapless transformation that defies who she once was and what she meant to modern television. "Euphoria" is streaming on HBO Max.
