Culte – 2Be3 is the latest addition to the Culte collection on Prime Video, following Loft Story. Created and directed by Yaël Langmann, the series traces the birth of the first French boy band in the late 1990s: 2Be3. It stars Antoine Simony, Namory Bakayoko, and Marin Judas in the roles of Filip Nikolic, Adel Kachermi, and Frank Delay, three friends from Longjumeau who were propelled to the top of the pop charts before discovering the downside. The series will be available on Prime Video starting October 24, 2025.
The story recounts their meteoric rise in a rapidly changing music industry. Cult classic 2B3 combines dramatic fiction, musical biopic, and 90s reenactment, while offering an intimate look at youth, fame, and camaraderie.
Prime Video has released the official trailer:
Culte – 2Be3
Mini-series | 2025 | 6 episodes
Released on Prime Video on October 24, 2025
Original title: Culte – 2Be3
Nationality: France
Synopsis: Longjumeau, 1996. Filip, Adel, and Frank dream of making it big in music and become 2Be3, France's first boy band. Between friendship, fame, and disillusionment, they discover the behind-the-scenes of an industry where success comes at a price.
This new chapter of Culte benefits from the direct participation of the band's original members, notably Frank Delay, who appears on screen, andAdel Kachermi and Sasha Nikolic ( Filip's daughter), who were involved in the writing. The series, written by Yaël Langmann, pays tribute to French pop and a generation marked by the beginnings of music television. The visual universe is rooted in the 1990s, between television clips and concerts saturated with flashes, while showing the flaws of success.
With Culte: 2Be3, French fiction ventures into territory that is as unexpected as it is emotionally charged: that of 90s boy bands. A mix of musical biopic and social drama, the series recounts the epic story of the Longjumeau trio—Filip Nikolic, Adel Kachermi, and Frank Delay—three friends from the suburbs who became icons of a generation before coming up against the brutality of the music industry. The ambition is clear: to revisit a decade saturated with pop dreams, hair gel, and illusions of glory, while taking a tender look at the youth who wanted to shine.
From the very first episodes, Culte sets a nostalgic and sparkling tone, faithful to the promise of the 90s. Critics describe it as a "nostalgic, subtle, and sparkling" series, and the expression perfectly captures this combination of lightness and melancholy. The staging recreates the bright colors, iconic looks, and perfectly symmetrical choreography, while injecting a discreet social realism: the vacant lots, the housing projects, the gyms where dreams are forged. The editing effectively alternates between the boys' euphoric rise and moments of introspection where glory proves to be more demanding than it seemed.
The narrative follows a classic patternof social and artistic rise: three friends from the suburbs, passionate about dance and sports, launch themselves into singing, carried by the raw energy of their friendship. Success comes quickly—too quickly—and with it, media pressure, internal conflicts, and the fear of betraying who they were. The series aptly poses the question formulated by Antoine Simony (Filip): "How far can friendship go? What will happen when fame arrives?" This dramatic line avoids sensationalism: we never sink into pathos, but into a gentle melancholy, nourished by familiar refrains and the awareness of time passing.
Visually, the series embraces its pop heritage: bright colors, flashy lighting, choreographed energy. The aesthetic, inspired by television clips of the era, serves as a mirror to the creation of a collective dream. We can guess at a mobile camera, often focused on bodies—those sculpted silhouettes, evoked as "Greek statues" in the synopsis—but also attentive to faces, fatigue, and silences. The contrast between the glitz of the sets and the grayness of the characters' social origins creates a fertile visual tension, reminding us that success, here, comes at the price of authenticity.
In terms of sound, the series capitalizes on its musical heritage: 2Be3's hits punctuate the training sequences, stage performances, and moments of pure nostalgia. The soundtrack, charged with retro emotions, acts as a trigger for collective memory. It anchors the story in the fervor of an era when television still created idols.
The performances play a large part in the success of the project. Antoine Simony plays a charismatic yet vulnerable Filip Nikolic, the emotional center of the group. Namory Bakayoko and Marin Judas-Bouissou bring the freshness and chemistry needed to make the trio believable. The series also draws its uniqueness from the real-life presence of Frank Delay, who plays the mentor of his own character: a nod that is as daring as it is touching, giving the fiction a delightful mise en abyme.
This emotional realism culminates in the final scene, where the real Frank and Adel appear in tears. This suspended moment, between fiction and memory, shows how vivid this story remains for those who lived it: the glory was brief, but the emotion remains intact.
Fundamentally, Culte: 2Be3 questions the social dream of young people from the suburbs: how can marginality be transformed into a force of expression? It also addresses the exploitative nature ofthe music industry, where artists become products, then relics. Finally, the series flirts with an implicit queer reading, through the imagery of choreographed masculinity, magnified bodies, and a close-knit camaraderie that defies stereotypes.
While not everything is perfect—the pace is sometimes too linear, and the staging lacks formal brilliance—the series succeeds in reviving a moment of popular culture without irony or cynicism. It embraces its gentleness and infectious good humor, and restores 2Be3 to their rightful place: that of a naive but sincere myth, symbol of an era when television created dreams as quickly as it consumed them.
Cult: 2Be3 is primarily aimed at an audience sensitive to 90s nostalgia: those who experienced boy bands, pre-social media television, and the fervor of early fan clubs. But it also speaks to a younger generation curious to understand this period when celebrity was still invented through VHS tapes and TV shows. Fans of musical biopics will find it a reflection on creativity, media pressure, and the price of fame. Finally, audiences interested in issues of social class or male representation will be able to read a more political subtext about identity, the body, and success.
A bright, sincere, and deeply nostalgic series. Not a drama, but a melancholic celebration of three boys who simply wanted to "be free, be strong, be there."
To go further, check out our selection of new Prime Video releases for October, our guide to streaming releases across all platforms, and today's selection of what to watch on streaming.
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