Illustration by Michael DiMilo
Ugly Americans: Review of The White Lotus
★★★1/2
By Geoff Carter
We’ve seen it all before. Privileged Americans come to an exclusive resort and find fun—and murder, jealousy, sex, and decadence—all of which makes for great TV. This, of course, is the formula for the wildly successful MAX show The White Lotus, a limited series centered around different iterations of the exclusive White Lotus Resort.
The first season took us to Hawaii, the second to Italy, and the most recent to Thailand. Each season opens with a death. The corpse is never identified to the audience, so over the course of eight or so episodes, viewers are tasked not only with determining whodunit, but they also have to figure out whowasit.
After the Season Three corpse is discovered, the narrative flashes back to a group of American—very American—tourists taking the launch from the mainland to the resort.
In this latest version, we have Tim Ratliff (Jason Isaacs), the patriarch of a wealthy North Carolina family; his arrogant wife Victoria (Parker Posey); his obnoxious son Saxon (Patrick Schwarzenegger), who works at his father’s company; Lochlan (Sam Nivola) Saxon’s shy younger brother, and Piper (Sarah Catherine Hook), the spoiled daughter who wants to study Eastern religion.
In the next group, we have three childhood friends taking a girls’ vacation. Jaclyn (Michelle Monaghan) is a successful TV actress: Laurie (Carrie Coon) is a recently divorced corporate lawyer; and Kate (Leslie Bibb) a Texas suburban wife.
Then we have Rick (Walton Goggins), a mysterious and bitter man who was traveled to Thailand for mysterious reasons with Chelsea (Aimee Lou Wood) his younger new-age girlfriend.
Also along on the trip is Belinda (Natasha Rothwell) a manager from the Hawaii White Lotus visiting Thailand on a work exchange. Her son Zion (Nichols Duvernay) later joins her.
And, as in the first two White Lotus seasons, there is also a focus on the resort workers. Gaitok (Tayme Thapthimthong) is an ambitious security guard who is sweet on Mook (Lalisa Monobal), a health worker at the spa.
These are the players. (This roster reminds me of the Agatha Christie books that have the list of suspects on the first page—much like a theater program). As the vacations begin and relationships are revealed, the mystery of who is to be killed and why are masterfully woven into the greater story.
When Tim Ratliff discovers he is facing financial ruin, he hides it from his family as he tries to determine what to do. As the three longtime friends renew their acquaintances, scars are ripped away, wounds are reopened, and rivalries renewed. It’s difficult to tell what the hell is going on with Rick—he’s on a mission he refuses to discuss with the sweet and dedicated Chelsea. Belinda sees someone she thinks she knows—someone who may have done something awful.
And so, the stage is set. The wires are strung. Screenwriter and creator Mike White weaves and bobs between the relationships of these characters, taking the viewer to the point where there are no clear expectations. As the narrative nears the climax, the only sure thing is that nothing is sure. Everyone has a motive to kill and almost everyone has the opportunity. The corpse and the killer could be anyone.
While the interplay between family members—as Tolstoy said, “all happy families are alike, all unhappy families are unhappy in their own way”—is sometimes hilarious, sometimes irritating, but mostly harrowing to watch, White’s nuances and astute observations of family life are as cutting as a scalpel.
The Ratliff family, wealthy and seemingly perfectly happy, is made of relationships built on a foundation of sand. The bonds between the three Ratliff children rest on a sort of malignant dependency. Younger brother Lochlan devotedly follows his big brother’s Saxon’s every move; Saxon bullies Lochlan relentlessly but still accepts his brother’s unquestioning devotion (think Labrador) as his own self-affirmation.
When Tim Ratliff realizes his fortune may be lost, he believes he has nothing left—his family in and of itself means nothing to him. It’s all about the money. Victoria is sort of a modern-day Scarlett O’Hara, all pomp, fluff, and appearance. And Iorazepam. Daughter Piper, despite her half-hearted efforts at independence, is a clone of her mother.
Jaclyn, Laurie, and Kate have known each other since elementary school and apparently the templates of relationships established early on remain in force. Jaclyn was the pretty one, Kate was the sensible one, and Laurie was probably the tag-along, the friend who was always a little bit on the outside. When the vacation starts, these parameters face new stressors. Jaclyn is getting old—she’s not as pretty anymore. Kate confesses she may have “maybe” voted for Trump, and Laurie feels she is still on the outside. At one point, when Jaclyn sleeps with a buy Laurie is sweet on, you get a feeling she’s doing it to prove she still can.
Rick is a bitter and complicated man, but White’s depiction of him is probably the least believable of the bunch. His pain and evident, but it’s somehow hard to feel sympathy for him; he’s too much of a jerk. His girlfriend Chelsea is probably the nicest in the group. She is sweet, loyal, and a good friend.
The relationship between Belinda and her son Zion is probably the healthiest, at least until big money enters the picture.
And the relationship between Gaitok and Mook is tinged with, and tainted by, ambition. From a sweet flirtation, their relationship evolves into a place where he would do anything for her—which is exactly what she expects him to do.
This outline of Michael White’s complex web of interrelationships only scratches the surface of The White Lotus. A satirical streak runs through the series, taking special aim at the arrogance of American wealth. This is a recurring theme that appeared in all three seasons of the program, and which uses the White Lotus hotel workers as a foil to the rich American guests.
In the first season, Belinda was a spa worker who helped Tonya (Jennifer Coolidge), a very wealthy but troubled guest. Tonya promised to help her start a business, but, predictably, the promise evaporated—Tonya forgets about it completely. In a nice twist, in Season Three, Belinda finds herself in a position much like Tonya’s—her choice, when she makes it, seems inevitable.
The acting is for the most part superlative. Monaghan, Coon, and Bibb hit the perfect tone of the semi-friendly claws-out rivalry of old friends. Isaacs’ feelings of worthlessness when the money disappears is perfectly calibrated—he is lost, but ironically, no one in the family really notices it. Parker Posey is marvelously malicious in her clueless version of American eliteness. All in all, the cast acquits itself extremely well.
Money, desire, and decadence are all part of vacation. We go to exotic places to lose ourselves and to forget for a little while, but The White Lotus is not that place to do that. It is the vacation spot that takes us to our lowest point and leaves us there—at least until the plane leaves.
The White Lotus is more than a murder mystery. It is an incisive satire mocking American values of materialism, exclusivity, and superficiality that still maintain a level of pathos and humanity. It might be hard to like some of the characters, but it’s all too easy to understand them. We’ve all seen ugly Americans on vacation—and at home.
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