LP Reviews: The White Lotus Blends Absurdist Humor with Lacerating Social Commentary
One evening this summer, after the kids were asleep, my husband and I were scrolling HBO Max in one of our perpetual attempts to find a show that magically aligns with our moods and entertainment needs, two variables capable of shifting minute to minute with little warning. Sometimes he’s in the mood for something funny but I’m too tired for humor. Other times, he wants to dive into the latest season of The Handmaid’s Tale and I desperately need a mental break from the real-life theater of absurdity that is modern day America. I need entertainment that helps me escape, but is also interesting enough that I look forward to watching it instead of just zoning out or falling asleep.
We watched the two-minute trailer for The White Lotus with no prior awareness of the show. When it was over, Jeff asked, “So what do you think?” And I responded, “A show that features Connie Britton’s hair, Jennifer Coolidge’s personality, and ALSO makes me feel like I’m on vacation? Oh HELL yes.”
We were hooked after the first episode and sped through the show as quickly as possible (which for two working parents meant 60 to 100 percent of an episode every 2–5 nights for about three weeks).
The show follows a group of super-wealthy vacationers and the staff members of the Hawaiian resort where they’re staying, immediately setting up a Downton Abbey-esque dichotomy. The characters are vividly written — deeply flawed and relatable, if not particularly likeable. Following the show’s opening flash-forward scene, viewers know the only character who definitely survives the week is arrogant pretty boy Shane, which renders every other character’s actions fraught with potential doom. Combined with the disorienting beauty of the stunning Maui backdrop, the show is ominous, funny, and escapist all at the same time. Jennifer Coolidge was born to play the role of melancholy rich lady Tanya McQuaid, and her awkward interactions with spa manager Belinda (played by Natasha Rothwell) had us howling with laughter. The murder mystery lurked in the background of the show, adding tension and compelling us to keep watching, but it was the undercurrents of satirical social commentary and complex character development that ultimately made this one of the most interesting shows of recent memory for us.
The core question of the show seems to be, “What does it mean to be a good person?” Shane grapples with this question in his enraged obsession with resort manager Armond, who he (correctly) believes is lying to him about which suite they were supposed to have. Meanwhile, his new bride Rachel begins to wonder who exactly she married as her husband casts himself in a disturbingly spoiled and out-of-touch light.
The Shane/Armond feud is intriguing because on one hand, Shane is entirely right: Armond is intentionally deceiving Shane as he becomes increasingly unhinged, going to greater and greater lengths to torture him while smiling politely and denying it all. Their terse interactions crackle with the question of who’s the real bad guy: Armond for not owning up to his mistake and gaslighting Shane, or Shane for being unable to let it go and enjoy a beautiful honeymoon with his gorgeous wife despite her desperate pleas for him to drop it.
And Armond, despite being “the help,” plays into a different kind of power dynamic explored by the show. As the resort manager he holds power and influence over the other staff members, which he sometimes uses to abusive ends, like when he coerces one of the busboys into having a sexual encounter with him in exchange for better shifts (a deal he doesn’t even uphold). Armond is also blind to his privilege and the suffering of others, just in a different way. He spends the entire first episode training new hire Lani without realizing she was in active labor the entire day.
Then there’s Nicole and Mark Mossbacher (Connie Britton and Steve Zahn), the secretly-miserable power couple accompanied by their two miserable children, Olivia and Quinn, and Paula, Olivia’s tagalong college friend with a mysterious past and a definite pill problem. Paula starts hooking up with busboy Kai behind Olivia’s back, and her discussion with him about his people’s history on the island inspires her to bring up the subject of racial inequality at dinner with the Mossbachers one evening. As the primarily white, wealthy guests are entertained by the dances and traditions of native people, Mark monologues about how he didn’t ask for the privilege of being a white man. He speculates that people with power never want to give it up because they feel entitled to their success for reasons he finds legitimate, releasing himself from all guilt and responsibility and mansplaining all over Paula as Olivia explodes with faux-woke white self-righteousness. Meanwhile, in one of the show’s cheesier plotlines, teenager Quinn is forced to deal with his cliched digital addictions when his phone and iPad are swept away by the tide. He falls into a group of local rowers and finds the deeper connection with nature and indigenous culture that alludes the other guests. At the end of the show, he secretly flees the airport to live out the white fantasy of giving up the hustle and bustle of privileged city life to live in a shack on the beach and not answer to anyone.
One of the most heartbreaking moments of the show is when Tanya, love drunk after meeting a man, abandons the idea of going into business with Belinda, the compassionate masseuse who helped lead her to a spiritual awakening and find peace with her past. Belinda’s face goes blank when Tanya tells her she isn’t ready to commit, not even having the courage to be honest with Belinda about her dwindling interest in the idea. Belinda tosses out the thorough business proposal she prepared with such excitement and bursts into tears as soon as Tanya leaves. This scene called to mind the countless innovative and hardworking people of color who have been shut down and degraded, doors closing in their faces as they endure another agonizing loss on the battlefield of white power.
The ultimate message of the series is a dark and scathing commentary on the cycle of violence and dehumanization perpetuated by “nice” white people. Think about how all the people of color in the show were treated: Tanya was close to investing in Belinda’s business idea but chose to chase a man instead, even after all Belinda did for her. Paula came up with a scheme for Kai to secure a better future by stealing from the Mossbachers and instead they both ended up overcome with regret. Rather than overcoming the chains of generational erasure of indigenous people’s power and land, Kai finds himself unemployed, disgraced, and facing criminal charges. Meanwhile, the attempted robbery is what finally brings Nicole and Mark closer together. This is notable because they had many possible chances to reconnect on this trip; Mark had been experiencing an existential crisis inspired by a cancer scare and the resulting revelation that his father died of AIDS, not cancer as he previously believed. Mark had attempted to get closer to Nicole several times throughout the trip, but it wasn’t until he saved Nicole from the masked man attempting to steal from them that she finally reopened her heart to her husband. It was the thrill of their wealth being threatened that jolted them back to each other. They’ll tell the story as a jaw-dropping anecdote at cocktail parties as Kai faces a future forever tarnished.
After grappling with the unsettling realization that she’s a trophy wife and having her honeymoon crashed by Shane’s WASPy and heartless mother (brilliantly played by Molly Shannon), Rachel considers leaving Shane to find a life truer to her professed values and imagined identity. But in the end she chooses safety and privilege by staying with Shane. They get on the plane and head back to the fancy, hollow world that Rachel chose.
As the show comes to an end, all the white people end up better off, at the expense of people of color. The final scene of the show is the hotel staff lined up on the beach, faces plastered with fake smiles and hands clutching trays of champagne flutes as they prepare to greet another crop of self-involved, aristocratic idiots. The whole charade begins again, a metaphor for the cyclical nature of white privilege and systematic oppression.
In Greek mythology, the lotus was “a legendary plant whose fruit induces a dreamy forgetfulness and an unwillingness to depart.” I can’t help but wonder if the show’s title was meant to evoke white people’s intentional forgetfulness of the lived experiences of people of color — the inhumanity of racism and income inequality, the lasting damage of colonialism, the Native American genocide that was the original Make America Great effort, and white people’s collective unwillingness to depart from the systems of violence that serve them. It’s the lotus of white complacency, the wicked fruit we continue to pick generation after generation, savoring the juicy ignorance in every bite.
