#tiffany prigent

Skam France Season 7 earns a solid 4 out of 5 stars. It’s emotionally ambitious, visually gorgeous, and not afraid to tackle big themes, even if it occasionally smooths over the rough edges a little too much.

This season puts Tiffany Prigent front and centre. Yep, the same Tiffany who’s been cast as the bully in previous arcs. Now she’s navigating the emotional fallout of pregnancy denial, a condition where someone doesn’t realise they’re pregnant until very late in the term. It’s a bold choice, and honestly? I respect the writers for going there. The season kicks off with a rhythmic gymnastics comp and a locker room collapse that feels like it wandered in from a BBC Three drama, and from there, it spirals into a deeply introspective look at trauma, identity, and redemption.

Visually, it’s classic Skam France: soft lighting, pastel palettes, and cinematography that makes even school corridors look like they belong in an indie short film. The music is moody and melancholic, like someone curated a Phoebe Bridgers playlist specifically for emotional breakdowns. And Tiffany? She’s played with raw vulnerability. You want to hug her, shake her, and sit quietly beside her all at once. Her arc, especially her attempts to reconnect with Lola and the rest of La Mif is equal parts compelling and layered.

But here’s the thing: the realism falters. Tiffany’s post-pregnancy support system is... glossy. Her parents buy her a flat and cover her rent, the baby’s father and his mum are fully supportive, and it all feels a bit too neat. It’s not that these things can’t happen, but it does soften the emotional stakes. There was room to explore the complexities of anonymous birth or the psychological toll of pregnancy denial, and instead we get a resolution that feels more YA fantasy than gritty realism.

Still, the season earns points for emotional intelligence. Tiffany’s guilt, confusion, and slow journey toward self-forgiveness are handled with care. The dialogue is sharp, the pacing mostly works (though a couple of episodes meander like a Year 10 poetry assignment), and the finale “The Village” is genuinely moving. It ties together themes of community, healing, and the messy work of rebuilding.

If this season were a book, it’d be A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing meets Heartstopper. Raw, tender, and occasionally too idealistic for its own good. It’s not perfect, but it’s trying. And that counts.

SAMEDI | 22H22

MERCREDI | 15H38

DIMANCHE | 22H39