The Summer I Turned Pretty Season 3: A “Bittersweet” Farewell Wrapped in Questionable Choices

Hello everyone. Let’s talk about The Summer I Turned Pretty – a show that has been paraded around like it’s the epitome of sweet coming-of-age drama, but more often than not, finds itself tripping over its own shoelaces. The final season has arrived, and with it, we’re left gazing directly into the teen drama abyss: love triangles, bad decisions, cheating scandals, unnecessary melodrama, and fans frothing at the mouth in meme production factories. Yes, naturally, it’s entertainment. The question isn’t whether it entertains – the question is whether any of it deserves the pedestal it’s been given. Spoiler alert: not really.

Jeremiah Fisher: Teen Heartthrob or Plot Device Punching Bag?

Let’s get straight to the meat of this multi-course buffet of teen angst: Jeremiah Fischer, played by Gavin Casalegno. Or, as he’s becoming better known online, “that guy who cheats but still gets a wedding subplot.” Turns out, the internet hates Jeremiah. And Gavin, bless his optimistic, meme-dodging heart, finds all this fury “pretty comical.” Imagine sprinting into a burning house with marshmallows and calling it a barbecue-that’s effectively his stance when confronted with the fact that viewers despise his character. Comical maybe, but it also exposes the gigantic narrative rot chewing away beneath the show’s sugary surface.

Jeremiah, according to fans, is irredeemable. Four years into dating Belly, he cheats and somehow still ends up with a wedding band arc. That’s not romance, that’s a morality glitch in the narrative matrix. It’s like choosing a rogue in an RPG, putting all your skill points in betrayal, and the game still awarding you the “perfect husband” ending. Either we’ve broken storytelling, or the writers have decided emotional chaos sells ad space better than logical arcs.

The Cast Trying to Separate Reality and Fiction (Good Luck With That)

Casalegno insists people need to remember Jeremiah isn’t real. And he’s right, of course. But in today’s internet-fueled fandom culture, good luck separating character from actor. Ask Hayden Christensen how fun it was living through the “I hate sand” era. Playing the most irritatingly inconsistent character in a streaming-age phenom? That sort of thing sticks to you harder than glitter at a sixth-grade dance. Casalegno seems oddly chill about it though, maybe because he’s happily married in real life and prefers memes over meltdowns.

Still, what does it say about writing integrity that the actor himself has to keep reminding the public, “This isn’t me!”? If you need disclaimers that often, the storytelling has failed to create enough believable separation. It’s Television Medicine 101: don’t conflate the disease with the patient. But here we are, coughing up bad writing while the director prescribes another montage sequence.

The Jumps, Rebrands, and “Why Is This Here?” Subplots

Season three takes some liberties with Jenny Han’s original books. Sometimes show-to-novel discrepancies help world-building, but here, it often feels like narrative wheel spinning.

• The Bigger Time Jump – The writers aged up Belly and Jeremiah’s relationship to four years instead of two before the cheating drama. Why? Because apparently ruining two years’ worth of trust wasn’t enough of a gut punch. Let’s quadruple the toxicity for maximum dramatic indigestion. I didn’t sign up for “Cheaters DLC Pack,” but apparently that’s bundled into Prime Video now.
• Belly’s Rebrand… or Lack Of – In the novels, Belly slowly reclaims her actual name, Isabel. On the show? She gets scribbled over by her brother and that’s the end of it. The message here? Character growth is optional; Sharpie markers are forever.
• Random Easter Eggs – Han decided to sprinkle shout-outs from her To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before series. Cute, maybe, but also as subtle as slapping a neon “Remember This IP?” poster across the screen. Was that fan service or a not-so-secret attempt to keep you subscribed to Amazon until the next adaptation rolls around?

Conrad’s Therapy Arc: Finally, A Healthy Plotline

At last, a subplot with some actual emotional heft: Conrad struggles with anxiety, grief, and therapy. Watching him unpack trauma with a therapist is one of the few instances this series doesn’t feel like it’s written by a group chat filled with caffeine and Instagram filters. It’s a solid attempt at grounding the whirlwind love triangle. But because this show can’t resist, of course, his progress is still undercut by endless romantic entanglements. It’s like giving your RPG character a healing potion then immediately making them walk into poison traps again. Useless development, wasted resources.

Paris, Car Crashes, and Soap Opera Jabronis

Ah yes, the “study abroad in Paris” subplot, where Belly adds more pointless complications to an already bloated plot stew. But the pièce de résistance here is Steven and Taylor. Not content with having cheating and heartbreak in one corner, the writers doubled down with their star-crossed, back-alley affair during frat-boy extracurriculars. The climax? A car crash that throws Steven into a medically induced coma. Truly, subtlety has been banished. This isn’t drama anymore-it’s a soap opera with an Amazon Prime budget.

As a doctor, I must diagnose: excessive melodrama, untreated narrative inflation, and a dangerous reliance on “coma as conflict generator.” Mixed with repeated instances of infidelity, the prognosis is grim. What’s next? Evil twins? Amnesia arcs? Someone’s childhood goldfish coming back as a reincarnated love rival? Wouldn’t shock me at this point.

The Big Picture: Does This Show Earn Its Spot?

The Summer I Turned Pretty wants to be heartfelt, nostalgic, filled with youthful innocence and profound reflections on love. But most often, it feels more like Save File Corruption: the romantic plotlines collapse under contrivance, side stories turn into straight-up melodramatic pratfalls, and characters make decisions so consistently terrible it borders on parody. The series thrives only when it dares to look at grief, family, and growth with sincerity. Everywhere else? It’s like grinding mobs for 20 hours only to discover the loot chest is stuffed with paperclips and disappointment.

Conclusion

The final season of The Summer I Turned Pretty is… well, bittersweet, sure. More like bitter with a dash of sweetness. Performances are respectable, and Gavin Casalegno’s self-aware approach to fandom hate is oddly admirable. But the writing? Far too obsessed with love triangles and melodrama to approach the goldmine of genuine emotional storytelling at its disposal. In gaming terms, this is the final boss battle where the developers forgot to balance stats – flashy, dramatic, but ultimately hollow.

So, what’s the verdict? It’s not entirely terrible. It’s not entirely good either. But it’s a missed opportunity dressed up in photogenic summer lighting. A drama that wanted to be timeless but trapped itself in tropes. If you’re here for messy love triangles, you’ll eat well. If you’re here for genuine exploration of youth’s complexities, you’ll leave hungry.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is entirely my opinion.

Source: Summer I Turned Pretty’s Gavin Casalegno Speaks Out on Jeremiah Hate, https://www.eonline.com/news/1421555/summer-i-turned-prettys-gavin-casalegno-on-jeremiah-hate