A triangular love story comes to its final conclusion in the third and final season of The Summer I Turned Pretty—streaming on Prime Video. There’s a real feeling that something has been lost or irrevocably transformed in this farewell chapter, writes Eliza Janssen—but it’s for the best.
It’s both funny and tragic how time speeds up as we get older. When you’re a kid, each exciting milestone—Christmas, birthday, summer—feels like an aeon away, but with time, each coming attraction ticks by faster and faster, a comparatively shorter window in the lengthening story of your life. They can come to feel less significant as the wait for summer narrows: every golden season whipping past in the blink of an eye.
Based on the YA romance novels by Jenny Han, The Summer I Turned Pretty has always wrung every drop of poignancy from that very feeling. Our lovesick hero Belly (Lola Tung) used to pine for her summers at Cousins Beach, and for the Fisher brothers: Golden Retriever bestie Jeremiah (Gavin Casalegno), sure, but particularly brooding older bro Conrad (Christopher Briney). As solid as the lifelong friendship between their mothers was, the trio were buffeted by hormones and fortune as soon as Belly (you guessed it) “turned pretty”, and so here we are in season three with Team Jeremiah having come out on top. And in a reflection of summer’s increasingly blink-and-you’ll-miss-it ephemerality, we get a time jump.
“This is the way it’s supposed to be,” Belly coos in the final season’s first episode, curled up at college with who she believes to be her endgame BF after three happy, offscreen years: “he’s the one, my one.” Can fans of this sweet, weepy drama really believe her at this point? Are we putting it all on Bellyjere and expecting Bonrad to dwindle into a distant memory?
Even Jeremiah isn’t sure, reminding his girlfriend that “there’ll always be something between you and Conrad”, the guy that she’s crushed on since she was ten. He’s only tentatively out of the picture and off studying medicine, while Belly’s tackling sports psychology and Jeremiah’s in a rowdy frat. The kids are alright after the shattering death of the boys’ mum Susannah (Rachel Blanchard), but they’re not too grown up to avoid a final barrage of misunderstandings, betrayals and big moves on campus.
For one thing, there are Steven shenanigans. Belly’s reckless brother (Sean Kaufman) is still sneakily hooking up with her bestie Taylor (Rain Spencer), even though both of them know it’s hurting their actual partners. These kids have never once been on the same page regarding commitment beyond their perma-will-they-won’t-they dynamic, and a shocking turn in the second episode will force them to either shit or get off the pot. Then again, there are some nicely-written scenes between Steven and his antagonistic desk buddy at his internship: do I spy a juicy new enemies-to-lovers arc swooping in at the last minute?
After Belly’s mum Laurel (Jackie Chung) urges her to find herself at college rather than chasing Jeremiah’s typically chaotic path, the chance to study abroad beckons, and things almost turn very Emily in Paris for our girl. Simultaneously, Jeremiah has messed up in two major ways: he’s forced to graduate late, and then a bombshell revelation hits from his boys’ trip to Cabo sometime earlier, in that shadowy sped-through timeframe Belly framed to us as an idyllic montage. Cue the Ariana Grande B-sides.
Han’s characters are deeply emotional and deeply tied to one another, and so little (or huge!!) transgressions between one couple can have massive, consequential rippling impacts on siblings, parents, uni mates. With Belly and her boys entering into siloed adult worlds of work and study, it can feel stressful for attentive viewers to watch and remember the first seasons, where all the melodrama took place under the warm and watchful eyes of their mothers. Susannah’s death looms over every big change, and a mid-season remembrance ceremony is given the appropriate homecoming heft to reconnect these lost kids.
Zoe Cassavetes, whose name will certainly ring a bell to you, keeps those family connections intact as director of the final season’s opening episodes; and Jenny Han writes the fifth episode and the finale, bringing it all back home. (Her name is also adorably featured in one crossword close-up.)
Summer is not meant to last forever, and in fact, that’s how it conjures its yearning, potent power—something that lasts us into adulthood, but hits so different, particularly in adolescence. There’s a real feeling that something has been lost or irrevocably transformed in The Summer I Turned Pretty’s farewell chapter, but it’s for the best. And amidst tearjerking or regrettable or frustrating turns in the love triangle havoc, that nuanced passage of time can, at its best, feel achingly real.
