In this op-ed, Teen Vogue’s associate culture director P. Claire Dodson examines how fans are discussing The Summer I Turned Pretty season three and why “filler episodes" are kind of the whole point.
Decades ago, in the era of hour-long, 23-episode seasons for soapy teen dramas, some installments seemed to be created purely for fun. Think: One Tree Hill’s film noir homage or the It’s A Wonderful Life attempt on Glee. They could be random, unrelated to the Big Plot but still full of detail, more or less pointless — or beloved in their own right. These kinds of episodes fell under the category of “filler,” episodes that seemed to just take up space without dramatically influencing the plot of the season or series as a whole.
Now that 8- or 10-episode seasons are more common, there’s inarguably less time for completely unnecessary episodes, but the filler accusation remains. I’ve noticed it often comes up in the Reddit threads and TikTok commentary about the final season of The Summer I Turned Pretty. Basically, every episode this season has faced filler allegations — so much so that it makes me question what people see as the point of entertainment.
The way people throw out the word “filler” to describe The Summer I Turned Pretty season three feels both like a misunderstanding of the term and a lack of appreciation for the small moments of character-building and scene-setting that actually make up a show — and storytelling at large.
Ironically, creator Jenny Han fanned the flames of its usage last year when she acknowledged that season two had filler episodes and proclaimed that “there are no filler episodes” in season three. And season two did have what could be called true filler episodes — the boardwalk-game contest immediately comes to mind. But that filler was also an integral part of world-building for the show. In a season that was so often dark and sad, that specific episode was a chance to place us back in the blissful peace of Cousins, where the worst thing that could happen to a character was losing a game. No more death, no more loss.
As we near the end of the series, some fans have become so consumed with the Conrad vs. Jeremiah contest that they’ve forgotten how to enjoy a television show. That’s not to say there aren’t potentially valid critiques of the pacing, but to call every episode that doesn’t contain a massive plot point toward the final verdict on Belly’s relationship “filler” is to completely miss the fun — and craft — of the whole thing.
Details that may at first seem less important help create a vivid world and explain why characters act the way they do. Taylor’s storylines with her mom, for example, are fleshing out Taylor’s on-and-off history with Steven; the burdens she’s carrying as the pseudo-adult of the household, and why they make it hard for her to commit to him. (Those scenes also show how much Steven still cares for her.)
Moreover, you need the build-up to make the most poignant scenes — the juicy peach, the wound care — hit even harder. It can’t be nonstop action all the time because the slow burn is the whole point.
So, if you think everything is boring except for the Conrad parts, or the Jelly scenes, maybe you just don’t like the show that much. And that’s okay! But if you do like the show, remember that all of this will end. Come mid-September, we’ll finally know who Belly ends up with, and it might inevitably feel like a comedown — but even more so if you’re only watching for the ending.
As fans of Lost or Game of Thrones could tell you, it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.
