Greg Hume, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons
Review of The White Lotus on HBO
In the Buddhist religion, a white lotus is a symbol of mental purity found in the state of bodhi, or awakening. It is also linked to a state of enlightenment and strength. In Homer’s epic poem The Odyssey, the lotus-eaters were a society of people whose consumption of the lotus would cause them to forget their homes, identities, and families. In the HBO series of the same name, The White Lotus is an exclusive tropical resort catering to the extremely wealthy, a place where the privileged go to forget their troubles.
The story is framed by the initial sequence of a Lotus guest returning home. When other passengers inquire about his honeymoon, he tells them someone died and that he isn’t sure where his wife is. As he watches his plane on the runway, our guest sees a coffin being loaded on board. And so the stage is set.
The narrative then pivots to a week earlier, when we see eight new guests are arriving by boat to the Lotus. The staff, particularly the resort manager Armond (Murray Bennett), is determined (as is his job depends on it) to provide them with the perfect vacation experience.
The guests include a hotshot CEO Nichole Mossbacher (Connie Britton), her husband Mark, (Steve Zahn), their annoyingly smarmy daughter Olivia (Sylvia Sydney), and her arrogant college friend Paula (Brittany O’Grady), along with their reclusive son Quinn (Fred Hechinger) whose nose is always buried in a video game.
Another guest, an extremely needy middle-aged woman, Tanya McQuoid (Jennifer Coolidge), is so helpless that she can barely put on her shoes. An extremely spoiled and arrogant broker Shane Patton (Jake Lacy) is going on his honeymoon with Rachel (Alexandria Daddario), his beautiful new wife.
Boundaries between the guests and the staff are clearly articulated by Armond. The help is not supposed to personally interact with the guests, eat with them, or get too friendly. He tells them the goal is to disappear behind masks of congeniality, to become interchangeable serving machines. They must always be positive and must always convey a sense that any need or want will only be within arm’s reach—or a dirty look—away. A new employee takes this to a ludicrous point, hiding the fact she is in labor in order to not discomfit the guests.
Somehow, perhaps symbiotically—as if embedded in their DNA, the guests already seem to know this; their sense of privilege is ingrained. Tanya begins her vacation by demanding (in the most passive aggressive of ways) a massage, whining until they make room for her at the spa. When Shane realizes his room is not the biggest and best in the hotel, he begins to throw a four-day tantrum.
The Mossbachers have an established pecking order within their own family unit. Nichole—who has a larger income than Mark, while trying to maintain the persona of a cool mom, has the final say in most matters. Daughter Olivia is downright nasty to her little brother, exiling him to sleep in closet-like kitchenette while she and her friend Paula (Brittany O’Grady), who is—not coincidentally a woman of color—share a bed (and a plethora of pseudo-sophistications native to college sophomores) in the spacious main room. Mark, the dad, is mostly involuntary comic relief to his family—at least until he becomes an accidental hero. Quinn, the son, has retreated from reality into a world of virtual relationships.
But, as they will, parties cross the most clearly articulated of lines. Tonya gloms onto Belinda (Natasha Rothwell) as a masseuse and a friend, promising her help with starting her own spa, a pledge that the poor woman takes to heart. Despite protests from his embarrassed wife, Rachel, Shaun Patton will not relent his campaign to get the best room in the house, using his substantial influence to pressure Armond’s boss.
For his part, Armond is nursing a not-so-subtle grudge against the hotel guests, despising them for their arrogance and cruelty. When Shaun goes after his job, Armond’s cheerful veneer begins to crack. Kai (Keko Kekumano), one of the native performers, begins an affair with Paula, who being black, feels an empathy with Kai’s story of being thrown off his family land by the very people he is working for. When Olivia, who has a history of coveting Paula’s boyfriends, makes a play for Kai, Paula hatches a plan to simultaneously restore Kai’s land and get back at Olivia.
The White Lotus is a finely choreographed ballet of privilege, power, and entitlement. While escorting the viewer through the foibles and misadventures of the resort guests, creator Michael White manages to subtly create a portrait of the uneasy alliances and dependencies between the rich and the poor—or the working and the idle. This is nowhere more evident in Shane’s depredation of his new wife’s career as a free-lance journalist. Whenever Rachel talks about going back to work, he demeans and insults her abilities, making it clear she is important to him only as a trophy wife. When Shane’s mother suddenly appears during the honeymoon to support him, Rachel realizes that he is nothing but a spoiled brat, a momma’s boy. When she asks how he would feel if her mother flew into the honeymoon, he states—with all the arrogance he we was raised with—“she couldn’t afford it.”
In this resort, White has created a microcosm of the privilege and inequities evident everywhere in our society. The guests abuse, exploit, and demean the staff. Shane ridicules Rachel—who has come to the frightening (though short-lived) realization—that she married the wrong guy. Olivia tries (once again) to take Paula’s guy. Shane—out of sheer spite—tries to get Armond’s job. Tonya raises Belinda’s hopes with false promises and then grinds them under her heel.
For all its outward natural beauty and splendor, The White Lotus Resort is, in actuality, a swamp of exploitation and cruelty. While tiptoeing a fine line between comedy and social criticism, White has provided us with a wonderfully entertaining and thought-provoking series; he has shown us the ubiquitous and insidious presence of privilege. Whether we see it or not–or acknowledge it or not, it is everywhere.
