I am far from a regular television consumer. Although I spent most of quarantine indulging in the stereotypical teenage girl series with my friends — think Grey's Anatomy and The Vampire Diaries — I have rarely committed to entire seasons ever since. It takes a lot to keep me engaged past the pilot (or even all the way through it, for that matter). That being said, the occasional limited series piques my interest, and The White Lotus is one of them.
It is hard to not be at least mildly intrigued by the dark comedy. The unsettling ambiguity of the plot, eerie music choice and overall sense that something horrible could happen at any time are entirely misaligned with the tropical setting — establishing a contrast that had me engaged immediately. However, it most notably provides a biting social commentary that forces the audience to confront the egregious reality of American power dynamics in international settings. This is the theme that solidified my position as an avid viewer of the comedic TV show.
Each of the three seasons follows unimaginably wealthy white families on a resort vacation. The characters are simultaneously distinct in their motives and nondescript in their similarity to one another. In the most literal sense, the protagonists switch every season to develop entirely new (but equally twisted) storylines. Yet, in many ways, they remain exactly the same. After watching the first season, it's easy to see the parallels; the tourists arrive just as arrogant as the last group before slowly falling victim to the whims of their fellow travelers and the climactic violence of the finale. Each group is predictably similar, but that’s the point. This consistency speaks to the nature of socioeconomic class in our country — the lack of diversity is expected and poignant all the same.
Earlier this month marked the release of the third season’s pilot episode, and it follows almost all of the previously discussed patterns. Of course, the boat from the mainland drops off three groups of tourists, all as white and obnoxious as always. However, the episode sets up a few new dynamics that are unique to this specific season.
What struck me first was the alarming number of times incest was implied (not to say that implying it once isn’t alarming). The very southern Ratliff family is the embodiment of every aforementioned upper-class American stereotype, except for the occasional joke pioneered by the oldest son, Saxon, who sexualizes his younger siblings. There are many scenes throughout the episode that further shape the concept that the kids have a strange relationship with sexuality, but I digress. Beyond the incestual undertones, the opening scene reveals much of what I believe to be the most vital themes of the season. A young man finds a body in the water and prays to a Buddha statue nearby that the gunshots he hears do not harm his mother. In this moment, the audience is exposed to both The White Lotus’s reverie for death and a newer fixation on Eastern spirituality, an unprecedented combination that I think will provide a sarcastic commentary on the cultural perspectives of death.
The shooting will inevitably be the season’s climax, likely followed by the death of at least one major character. This follows the show's trend of eerily implying something terrible will happen for every episode until the finale, when something bad does happen. As such, I believe season 3 remains relatively true to the show’s nature — the backstabbing, ignorant wealth flaunting and tense familial dynamics inherent to every episode are just some of the reasons that I feel this way. I’m excited to see how these newer dynamics are reconciled with the consistent satirical social commentary inherent to the television show. In a political climate increasingly dominated by the white elite, I cannot recommend The White Lotus enough (even for TV critics like myself).
Mia Roman-Wilson is a freshman in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at mromanwilson@cornellsun.com.
