Why does television so misunderstand Gen Z? As a 20-year-old who watches a lot of TV, I pause before getting my hopes up about an authentic portrayal of a Gen Zer on a show, preparing instead for the cringiest one-liners and actors who should be playing 35-year-olds.
While Euphoria is plenty entertaining, it can feel more like fantasy to many actual teens whose lives and traumas aren’t so glittery — how are none of them getting dress-coded? The Sex Lives of College Girls took an honorable stab, but the characters can feel like caricatures. The executives who greenlight these things don’t understand that, typically, shows targeted at younger audiences don’t actually resonate with younger audiences.
Unlike Hannah Horvath in HBO’s millennial gem Girls (resurgently popular among Gen Z), I do not claim to be the voice of my generation. But it does feel like an appropriate time to speak up about how younger audiences feel about the hottest television shows, especially since my cohort helps keeps streamers afloat.
Am I at times offended when the token Gen Z character can’t help but feel like they are being gaslit, gate-kept and girl-bossed? Yes. And when they cancel a friend for putting compost in the garbage? Also, yes (but seriously, composting isn’t that hard). While a lot of media can’t seem to pin the tail on the donkey (metaphorically speaking, of course, since who the hell in my generation played that game?), some of the big Emmy contenders did successfully lure us in — but not always for the reasons you think. So before you pat yourselves on the back for all the shows you loved creating for us 20-year olds, here’s some of what we thought.
[By the way, these are my qualifications and connections to television to validate, credit or debase everything I’m about to say – your call. I study film at UC Berkeley, the #1 public university in the world (sorry, UCLA) and talk to a lot of smart people about smart things (at times). I have an interest in television writing. And, well, I really like watching TV. I grew up watching a slew of shows with my siblings, parents and grandparents, shows as different as The Brady Bunch, Lizzie McGuire, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit and even The Little Rascals from 1922, which it turns out has not aged very well. The first TV show I binge-watched was ABC’s Once Upon a Time, then Gossip Girl, The Vampire Diaries and during COVID, I think I watched four Criminal Minds episodes every day. I was going into sixth grade when Stranger Things was first released, and I’ll be well into my junior year of college when the supernatural adventures of Hawkins come to a close — I practically grew up alongside the cast.]
Perhaps I have charmed my contemporaries to read this far, which I can admit is a struggle in a 24/7 attention economy. Regardless, these are my takes on shows in 2025: what, where and with whom I watch. And spoiler alert, if you are looking for a hot take on Love Island, you won’t find it here.
Severance
Starting off strong. I’m hooked on this intelligent and bone-chilling series, reveling in the plethora of conspiracies and Easter egg rabbit holes my TikTok and Instagram algorithms have handed me. Not only were my social platforms feeding my greedy need for details, but I was surrounded by other tuned-in 20-somethings looking down the infamous white hallways. When Berkeley students weren’t neck-deep in schoolwork or connecting with each other on LinkedIn — yes you heard it here first, “add me on LinkedIn” is the new “add me on Snap” — we were geeking out over goats, Helly R and Cold Harbor. Although most of my friends are pre-workforce and haven’t really experienced the erosion between office and leisure yet, we relate to its basic truth, looking at the Lumon building and getting the same existential dread as when we walk into some classes.
Hacks
Talk about generational communication: Hacks might be the comedy to get it right. While the character of Ava is technically a millennial, her confrontations with Deborah are hysterical, and every struggling 20-something gets her grit. Moreover, it’s special to see a cross-generational friendship on TV. I relate way more to Ava, or to Hannah and Shoshanna from Girls, than Maddy or Cassie from Euphoria. Just shows that depict the specific feeling of trying to figure shit out.
Forget what you’ve heard: My generation has not killed appointment TV. It just takes the right show to bring us together. If The White Lotus season three was an object of worship, then my friends and I were loyal disciples, and anyone’s living room was our temple. From February to April this semester, we’d gather over takeout (bonus points if it was Thai) and prepare for the most indulgent, distressing and entertaining hour of our lives. Mike White’s social satire is the most accurate exploration of generational miscommunication that I’ve seen. And although representations of the one percent on their luxurious vacations might feel distant from college students running on instant ramen, The White Lotus actually gets Gen Z right, whether it’s season one’s discourse on privilege and performativity with Paula and Olivia, the Portia-Albie dynamic in season two or, of course, the Ratliff family this season.
The Studio
Apple TV+’s new hit starring the charismatic Seth Rogen was particularly entertaining to me as a self-proclaimed (hopefully one day certifiably acclaimed) industry enthusiast. I didn’t hear much commotion over the show from the general student-aged population, but it really played among young cinephiles and aspiring Hollywood types. It gave a taste of the insider world to those on the outside, even if its accuracy has been contested by real-life execs. (“The Oner” and “Casting” were standouts.) While it seems aimed at those already working in Hollywood, it’s almost a satiric crystal ball for those who have yet to get over the wall.
Full transparency, I haven’t actually finished the new season, which has garnered 16 Emmy noms. But I really enjoyed its debut back in 2023. High schoolers like me at the time sparked to the Pedro Pascal-ness. Gamers talked about it for months. And the show even stars a Gen Z hero! Bella Ramsey shines alongside Pascal, giving the show a wry and witty voice every teenager now echoes.
Shrinking, my beloved. This show is equal parts feel-good and pass-me-the-tissues-because-I’m-sobbing. I’ve watched it with my family, friends and by myself (with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s). Gen Z wants to feel included, not mocked, and Bill Lawrence’s series strikes the right chords. As someone who got her dad to go to ultimate sad girl Phoebe Bridgers’ concert with her, seeing Jason Segel’s character sobbing to the artist’s “I Know the End” on a bicycle because of his Gen Z daughter really hit home. And Lukita Maxwell’s Alice is authentically scoffing and, well, Gen Z.
The Bear
The show, whose contentious Emmy category placement will not be discussed, is getting awards love for its fourth season. I think that any Shameless fan AKA any young girl will tune in to see Jeremy Allen White smoking another cigarette while looking all distressed. Not to mention Ayo Edebiri’s knockout breakthrough performance that really keeps the show going. Sydney’s storyline and younger voice is what cuts Carmy’s cynicism and Richie’s profanity. The Bear is losing steam. The show is down 24% from last year for minutes watched on Nielsen and many critics are calling the fourth iteration a “do-over.” From the perspective of a Gen Z-er? I’ll just leave it at Jeremy Allen White.
A perfect look at a generation of boys raised listening to the Andrew Tates of the world. I could think of a few Jamies I came across in middle school. The most fabricated part was the discovery that certain emoji combinations translate to hyperspecific messages. I was a little like, “Come on?” Maybe I’m too far out of the loop. It happens even to Gen Zers.
This story first appeared in an August stand-alone issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. To receive the magazine, click here to subscribe.