‘Young Millionaires’ (2025) Netflix Series Review - A High-Stakes Teen Caper that Mostly Lands

I dove into Young Millionaires expecting a breezy teen romp with giggles, schemes, maybe a bit of melodrama, and Netflix delivers all of that, but with a dash of bittersweet realism that gives the fun parts some gravity. Set amid Marseille’s sunlit streets and schoolyard corridors, the show plants its central question early: what does it mean to have everything you want, before you're even old enough to know what that is?

There’s an undeniable thrill in seeing four regular-ish teens suddenly face the universe’s most ludicrous windfall. The premise crackles: they’re clever, hungry for adult privilege, but still tethered to homework, family expectations, and cheap lockers. Their solution - to rope in Victoire, an outsider who’s 18 and thus legally eligible - feels smart yet precarious, the kind of plot device that promises both mischief and heartbreak. The story rides that tension nicely, weaving schemes to hide cash, dodge nosy parents, balance Baccalauréat exams, and keep Victoire from becoming unpredictable.

Visually and tonally, the show is confident. It doesn’t lean on frenetic edits or flashy gimmicks; instead, directors let quiet glances, tight frames, and corners of Marseille foreground the emotional stakes. A furtive envelope exchange in a hallway crackles, and the kids’ whispered arguments feel physically alive. It’s honest. The locale - Marseille’s lively, less pinkwashed side - grounds the fantasy in something that feels lived-in. Performances from the young ensemble and supporting cast are subtle yet expressive: they don’t over-act, and trust the emotional push-pull of adolescence with money to carry tension.

There are moments - like when one character marvels at luxury yet fights a pang of doubt - that land with surprising emotional heft. The story doesn’t hit you over the head with moral lessons about wealth, and I appreciate that restraint. Instead, the script lets the absurdity of teenage millionaires do the talking, finding humor in their naivety and the logistical mayhem their windfall provokes.

But for every scene that hums, there’s one that stalls under the weight of predictability or half-hearted drama. Some plot beats feel too familiar - young love blossoms awkwardly, parental suspicion lurks conveniently, blackmail drops in from nowhere - like boxes checked rather than built from character impulse. It sometimes feels like the show can’t resist a teen-dramedy beat, even if it hasn’t naturally grown from the characters themselves. The pacing drags in mid-season; a few episodes over-linger on schemes that could’ve been streamlined.

The character arcs, while textured, occasionally skim the surface. David’s debt spiral is introduced with fanfare but resolves quickly than the mood shifts at a school dance. Léo’s family drama is evocative but under-explored. Jess and Samia have hints of emotional depth, but their growth feels like an afterthought rather than a conclusion. Victoire’s outsider tension teases real conflict, but underuses its potential until late in the game. Ultimately, I found myself wanting more friction, more teeth, not just manufactured conflict, but friction born of real character misalignment.

Tone wobbles too; some sequences flirt with sharp satire or dark absurdity, then dip into earnest teen bonding in ways that clash. It’s a tricky balance, and I’m not convinced the series fully nails it. A comedic moment about hiding cash in lockers might be followed by a heavy parental confrontation that jolts more than it resonates.

There are also rough patches in logic: how do four teens with virtually no resources suddenly manage complex financial maneuvering without anyone noticing? Suspension of disbelief requires a generous stretch. And some dialogue falls into clichés—talk of “living our best lives” or “finally being free”—that feel written, not spoken by kids who are smarter than that.

Even with these missteps, the show mostly stays afloat thanks to its light, satirical spirit. It doesn’t get bogged down in sentimentality. At its best, it’s a mischievous wink at growing up too fast, at the absurdity of wealth as salvation, and at the fragility of teenage alliances. It knows the blood-rush of possibility that comes with a secret pot of money, but refuses to treat that as literal empowerment or punishment. The show flirts with deeper themes of trust, economic precarity, and moral compromise, but never drops the tone so far into seriousness that the humor disappears.

The writing occasionally winks at cinematic teen tropes, but the humor generally feels organic: the panic of exam season, whispered paranoia about being ratted out, frantic group texts, awkward silences in class. There’s charm in how they bumble their way through slick schemes, with sneakers and cafeteria trays instead of slick moves and moneyed swagger.

In the end, Young Millionaires is a high-voltage teen dramedy that delivers moments of zing and emotional pull, anchored by solid performances and a refreshing Marseille backdrop. It’s funny, it’s clever, and it occasionally stops being charming and starts being surprisingly observant about adolescence and wealth. Yet, it’s also uneven—shallow arcs, forced dramatic turns, and tonal jolts keep it from being something truly sharp.

If you want a teen caper that flirts with complexity, keeps you snickering through the smoke and mirrors, and shows that getting rich overnight might just mean waking up to a bigger mess, this is worth a spin. But if you’re hoping for a taut, razor-sharp satire or a deeply lived-in coming-of-age, you might feel one step removed, like you’re watching from the edge of the burnout, not inside it. Bottom line? Young Millionaires has the energy and ideas to intrigue, and a few too many smudges to fully satisfy. I’m glad I watched, even if I’m not sure I’d go back for an encore.

Final Score- [5/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times