15 TV Shows Like Euphoria

Based on an Israeli series of the same name, “Euphoria” debuted on HBO in 2019 with an arresting, undoubtedly provocative, and borderline exploitative opening: a POV shot of its main character, Rue (Zendaya), being born while footage of the September 11th, 2001, terrorist attacks plays on a nearby television. It sends a message to the viewer: There will be no compromises made here.

Since then, the show hasn’t let up. With series creator, showrunner, and primary writer-director Sam Levinson at the helm, the show has depicted all sorts of teenage struggles with sex, drugs, crime, violence, and abuse, usually in explicit and garishly filmed detail. 

If you happen to be on the show’s wavelength and are looking for something similar to watch ahead of the series’ return for Season 3, we’ve got 15 TV shows like “Euphoria” for you to check out.

The title “Degrassi” could refer to many shows within the Canadian teen drama empire. But in our modern pop culture vernacular, especially when making comparisons to “Euphoria,” “Degrassi” generally refers to the 21st-century iteration formally known as “Degrassi: The Next Generation,” which gave us many iconic moments during its 2001-2015 run.

“Degrassi” has a soapier tone than the hard-edged “Euphoria,” but the similarities are there. The high schoolers of “Degrassi” begin the show as familiar teenage archetypes — the jock, the class clown, the cheerleader — then evolve through a series of timely and difficult issues like drugs, violence, and burgeoning sexualities. 

There’s another, sneakier connection to make, too: Drake is an executive producer on “Euphoria,” and his musical offerings are often heard in the soundtrack. The rapper also starred as basketball player Jimmy Brooks in “Degrassi” — under his given name, Aubrey Graham.

Like many great TV soaps, “Elite” examines the trials and tribulations of the wealthy class. What sets it apart from other shows, beyond its high school characters, is its working-class protagonists who give the audience a solid entry point into the ever-increasing absurdities and dangers of the elite school called Las Encinas.

The Spanish Netflix series, created by Carlos Montero and Darío Madrona, stars Itzan Escamilla, Mina El Hammani, and Miguel Herrán as a trio of students who receive scholarships to this new school and become embroiled in a hotbed of intrigue and murder among their new, rich classmates.

Lots of “Euphoria” is relentlessly paced and rife with intense and lurid subject matter, giving it shades of a crime thriller. “Elite” takes this tonal experimentation and runs with it, flinging its young characters into a “Big Little Lies”-style series of mysteries, down to its non-linear editing style. It’s melodramatic, overstuffed, and heaps of fun.

Besides having a title that’s in the same spirit as “Euphoria,” “Everything Now” also centers on a teenage girl wised beyond her years because of a traumatic disorder.

“Euphoria” has Rue and her addiction. “Everything Now” has Mia Polanco (Sophie Wilde) and her anorexia. The series, created by Ripley Parker, begins with Mia returning to school after a stint in the hospital seeking treatment for her eating disorder. Upon her return, she realizes her friends, and the entire high school apparatus, have moved on without her, getting into partying, drinking, drugs, sex, and all other manner of illicit fun. So, she decides to do, well, everything now, flinging herself into as many experiences as possible to make up for lost time.

Parker’s show is a lot more explicitly comedic than “Euphoria,” especially with the appearance of English comedy royalty like Stephen Fry. It’s also shorter, only one eight-episode season on Netflix — the perfect length for a weekend binge.

Lena Dunham and Jenni Konner gave us a definitive statement on the malaise of millennial young adulthood with HBO’s “Girls.” With HBO’s “Genera+ion,” these writers and executive producers shepherd father-and-daughter creators Daniel and Zelda Barnz’s examination of gen-z high school life.

Like “Euphoria,” “Genera+ion” takes place in Southern California; specifically, Orange County (hey, there’s another famous teen drama that takes place there). Californians will know that the O.C. is a politically conservative area, and with a cast of characters full of young, progressive teens discovering who they are, especially when it comes to sexualities, this gulf generates an interesting amount of the dramatic juice of “Genera+ion.”

The show also is funnier and more naturally presented than “Euphoria,” eschewing Sam Levinson’s stylized format for more immediate and intimate filmmaking techniques. But worry not — it eventually makes its way down some upsetting alleys of abjectly deranged behavior.

“Gossip Girl” aired on The CW from 2007 through 2012. Adapted for television from a series of young adult books by teen drama maestros Josh Schwartz and Stephanie Savage (“The O.C.”), the show follows the glitzy, scandal-ridden lives of teens who attend a prestigious private school in New York. All of their moves and missteps are chronicled by an anonymous blog, as represented by narration by Kristen Bell (the star of her own iconic teen drama, “Veronica Mars”).

“Gossip Girl” rides a potentially dubious line between depicting bad behavior and glorifying it, a line that “Euphoria” has been accused more than once of exploiting. The two shows also were launching pads for many young actors: “Euphoria” has Zendaya, Sydney Sweeney, and Jacob Elordi, while “Gossip Girl” has Blake Lively, Leighton Meester, and Penn Badgley.

Want even more high-stakes teen drama? “Gossip Girl” received a sequel series in 2021. 

What is the flipside of euphoria if not heartbreak?

An Australian reboot of a 1994 series, 2022’s “Heartbreak High” gathers a motley crew of high schoolers from various social strata and circumstances and flings them together, with creator Hannah Carroll Chapman mining ample drama (and comedy) from the various conflicts that arise.

The greatest hits are present: sexual promiscuity, racism, gang affiliation, violence, and the threat of real, legal consequences. But one of the show’s most unique triumphs of representation comes in the examination of autistic character Quinni Gallagher-Jones (Chloé Hayden, who is autistic in real life).

Quinni’s autism is not her sole defining trait; there’s no tokenism here. But it’s satisfying and special to watch her reckon and grow with her image as “being autistic,” especially when it comes to the concept of “masking.” While many of the show’s plot machinations can veer into the exaggerated, this one storyline stays grounded.

“I May Destroy You” is as potent and palpable as “Euphoria,” using similarly impeccable filmmaking techniques to provoke extreme emotional and visceral responses.

The show stars Michaela Coel (also the creator and writer of every episode) as a successful millennial writer and social media influencer. But her life takes a startling turn after she blacks out drunk during a night on the town, and realizes, with the help of her friends Terry (Weruche Opia) and Kwame (Paapa Essiedu), that she was raped. In the fallout, she tries to uncover the identity of the rapist, reckon with her physical and mental trauma, and figure out how her personal and professional life can recover.

Coel’s work, like the best episodes of “Euphoria,” is excoriating, exhilarating, difficult stuff that invigorates the audience.

Sam Levinson’s television follow-up to “Euphoria,” “The Idol,” was canceled after a single season that was rife with controversy, extreme content, and intense creative retooling (including the firing of its original director, Amy Seimetz). Lily-Rose Depp stars as Jocelyn, a pop star dealing with personal strife and public scandal. When she meets Tedros (Abel Tesfaye, aka the Weeknd, who co-created the series with Levinson), a nightclub owner who just might be running a sexual cult, her life spins out of control as she falls under his spell and into madness.

Some of the most dramatic passages of “Euphoria” emerge from the difficult relationship between Rue and her mother, Leslie (Nika King). “In My Skin,” a British show from creator Kayleigh Llewellyn, takes this type of relationship and centralizes it, resulting in an endlessly fascinating and often agonizing watch.

Bethan (Gabrielle Creevy) is a 16-year-old girl figuring out her sexuality and artistic aspirations while attending a vicious and homophobic high school. That would be tough enough for anyone, but her struggles continue at home. Her mom, Katrina (Jo Hartley), suffers from severe bipolar disorder and frequently spends time in a psychiatric ward, a fate she blames her daughter for during manic episodes.

You will feel immense empathy watching Bethan grow up too fast, as she’s forced to assume the role of caretaker while still discovering who she is.

We can’t recommend “Industry” enough. The quickest, juiciest pitch is that it’s “Euphoria” meets “Succession.” And if that’s not enough for you to start binging posthaste, we don’t know what is.

But we’ll try anyway! The British series from creators and former investment bankers Mickey Down and Konrad Kay takes place at a prestigious London investment firm. Its main characters are young, attractive, and destabilized folks; despite their cutthroat dedication to their hyper-capitalist maneuvers, they’re still figuring out a lot about themselves.

The show plays as a combination of a jargon-filled financial thriller with young-adult relationship drama. Translation: It’s infectious and addictive.

“My So-Called Life” is a key text in the female-led television teenage drama. It’s essential viewing, especially when seen as a predecessor to contemporary shows like “Euphoria.”

Created by Winnie Holzman (who also wrote the book for the Broadway musical “Wicked”), the show stars Claire Danes as Angela Chase, a 15-year-old high schooler who is capital-S Struggling. Alcoholism, violence, homophobia, severe bullying, depression — these are just some of the roadblocks Angela and her friends face on a daily basis while trying to get by at Liberty High School.

Now, this subject matter and all of its darkness is par for the course in a teen drama. But this show originally aired in 1994, when pop culture’s conception of teens had been sanitized, sexualized, and glorified. The struggle and cynicism baked into “My So-Called Life” was an unprecedented shot in the arm, so ahead of its time that it was canceled after just one season.

“On My Block” comes from co-creator Lauren Iungerich, who also brought us the beloved MTV teen dramedy “Awkward.” But her Netflix series, which ran for four seasons from 2018 to 2021, might be the more adventurous work, and definitely has more in common with “Euphoria.”

The series is another SoCal-set teen drama, this time in the fictional inner-city neighborhood called Freeridge (think Compton or Watts). In Freeridge, a friend group of four teens does its best to survive and thrive in high school. We follow the experiences of Monsé (Sierra Capri), a tomboy; Ruby (Jason Genao), a smart aleck; Jamal (Brett Gray), a nerd; and Cesar (Diego Tinoco), who’s at risk of falling into gang life.

There’s a lot of darkness here, a lot of threats of genuine violence and destabilization, all magnified by the socioeconomic backgrounds of the characters. But the show finds moments of brightness and joy, never descending into poverty porn.

“Euphoria” is frank and explicit with its depiction of sexual situations, especially non-traditional ones. It’s also one of the most adventurously shot and edited TV shows to date, slathering its images with a wash of film grain and neon lights while whipping the steadicam around.

If you’re looking for more of this kind of uniquely cinematic vibes, and if you want your sexual explorations to have more than a little more lived-in experience, try “P-Valley,” a Mississippi-set drama about the lives of Black exotic dancers.

Created by Katori Hall, adapting her own play (which had a similar, if unprintable here, title), “P-Valley” features an ensemble cast of performers playing characters we rarely see on television, let alone with this much empathy, authenticity, and outright celebration. The choreography is remarkable, the performances are exemplary, and the stylistic choices feel, truly, like “Euphoria” grown up.

“Euphoria” is very direct and leans toward darkness and pessimism. “Sex Education” is very direct and leans toward brightness and absolute optimism. These shows play well in contrast to each other — the two sides of the same “coming-of-age teen drama” coin.

Created by British writer Laurie Nunn, “Sex Education” stars Asa Butterfield as Otis Milburn, a student at Moordale Secondary School. Normally, one’s teenage years are when one becomes curious about, and experimental with, sexuality. But Otis comes from a curious background: His mum, Jean (Gillian Anderson), is a sex therapist who maintains many casual relationships for clinical observation more than emotional intimacy. So, when Otis is thrown into a school full of teens ready for discovery, he gains a new type of education.

Of course, all of Otis’ friends and classmates have their own baggage to work through, played by a great ensemble of young performers, including Ncuti Gatwa (“Doctor Who”), Emma Mackey (“Barbie”), and Aimee Lou Wood (“The White Lotus”).

We’ve examined a lot of shows from across the pond, here, but “Skins” might be the most explicitly influential on “Euphoria.”

The show is British phenomenon that brought us superstars like Nicholas Hoult, Dev Patel, and Daniel Kaluuya. It’s structured, just like many “Euphoria” installments, around a different central character each episode. And it depicts, with frankness and borderline ugliness, the stressors and issues plaguing many 21st-century teens, including eating disorders, violence, substance abuse, and bullying.

“Skins” was such a bolt of lightning to British culture (and, thanks to our increasingly globalized world, certain subsets of American culture) that MTV tried to produce an American remake in 2011. The American “Skins” only lasted one season after garnering mixed reviews and public outcry. But eight years later, “Euphoria” is the show’s true spiritual heir.