"The White Lotus" Season 3 Review

The sensation of discomfort—often labeled as unease, cringe, or social anxiety—is an external experience that clings persistently, much like an unshakable chill down the spine. This pervasive unease encapsulates the essence of every moment spent with the guests at the White Lotus hotel. Their mere presence amplifies tension to towering heights, offering viewers a paradoxical solace in realizing they aren't the most flawed individuals in the room. As these guests intrude upon our personal space, they evoke a feeling akin to being involuntarily exposed, leaving us gasping for air under the suffocating weight of their actions. The pressing question remains: What do these people truly desire?

Creator and writer Mike White, now in the third season of "The White Lotus," continues to probe this inquiry—who exactly are the patrons of this luxurious resort chain? From Hawaii to Sicily, and now to Thailand, the series has traversed themes of class anxiety (Season 1), emotionally fraught interpersonal dynamics (Season 2), leading us to what appears to be the most character-complex journey yet. While each season commences with a death or murder, "The White Lotus" transcends the typical thriller narrative of uncovering the perpetrator. Instead, it delves into the preceding events that culminate in such fatal outcomes.

White ingeniously utilizes the vacation setting—a temporal hiatus from societal roles and norms—to peel back the layers of facade that individuals maintain throughout the year. This brief period becomes a revelatory window into true personalities, much like the unexpected discoveries made during a thorough spring cleaning.

The arrival of new guests at the Thai resort introduces a diverse ensemble: the five-member Ratliff family, embodying financial prestige and Southern conservatism; a trio of friends whose mutual affection belies their superficial acquaintance; a newly formed couple bridging a significant age gap; and the return of Belinda, the masseuse from Season 1, seeking a fresh start after a failed business venture.

On paper, the elements are promising: a stellar cast including Jason Isaacs, Walton Goggins, Carrie Coon, and Aimee Lou Wood; Mike White's sharp writing; the opulence of a luxury hotel; and the exotic allure of Thailand teeming with venomous snakes. Yet, despite these ingredients, something seems amiss.

In its third season, "The White Lotus" encounters an unforeseen pitfall concerning character complexity and viewer engagement. The series has thrived on its portrayal of vivid, morally ambiguous personalities whose flawed moral compasses and temperaments captivate audiences. White has consistently avoided one-dimensional characters, endowing the narrative with a unique charm. However, this time, the depth and intricacy of the characters feel forced, rendering them less engaging. By the fourth episode, set aboard a yacht excursion, the characters' true agendas and motivations are unveiled. Yet, these revelations, while adhering to the show's dramatic style, lack the intrigue and impact of previous seasons.

A notable example is Victoria Ratliff, portrayed by Parker Posey—a stereotypical Southern conservative woman grappling with privilege, internalized misogyny, and social anxiety, masked by a dependence on tranquilizers. Intended as comic relief and a successor to Jennifer Coolidge's character, Victoria, along with others like her son Saxon and friends Lori, Jaclyn, and Kate, often engages in dialogues that, while intentionally awkward, seldom venture into genuinely humorous territory. The incessant focus on trivial conversations about appearances, political affiliations, and superficial judgments results in characters that, despite their intended depth, come across as shallow and unremarkable.

The trio of friends—Lori, Jaclyn, and Kate—exemplifies this issue. Their constant backbiting and judgmental banter about each other's life choices and political leanings reveal more about their superficiality than any profound character insight. While White attempts to imbue these interactions with layers of complexity, they ultimately feel pretentious and lack the engaging qualities that defined earlier seasons.

In its third installment, "The White Lotus" strives to infuse its new characters with depth and nuance. However, these efforts often result in portrayals that feel more like caricatures than authentic individuals. The Thai setting, while visually stunning, fails to compensate for the lack of compelling character development.

Despite the initial intrigue and the series' hallmark of unraveling intricate human behaviors, the current ensemble's lack of engaging qualities leaves viewers indifferent to their fates. As the season progresses, one might find themselves detached, unconcerned with the characters' outcomes—a stark contrast to the investment elicited by previous seasons.

Discomfort is an emotion few willingly embrace. It's that urge to escape one's own skin when those around us act obliviously, and intervention feels futile. The guests of the third season of "The White Lotus" epitomize this sentiment.

Trapped in their company, viewers may find themselves echoing a child's plea: "Mom, when are we going home?" While the series continues to explore the complexities of human nature against exotic backdrops, this season's execution may leave audiences yearning for the journey's end.