Hateful is the dark-blue sky
Vaulted o’er the dark-blue sea.
Death is the end of life; ah, why
Should life all labour be
Armond (Murray Bartlett) recites this extract from Tennyson’s The Lotos-eaters when having dinner with the hotel’s masseuse. The poem describes the arrival of explorers on an idyllic island while they muse on the obligation of labor: “all things rest: why should we toil alone”.
The leftist and colonial undertones of the poem confirmed the show’s intention: a critique of class in a colonialist paradise. This was the premise of The White Lotus in its first season. Season 1 was not without its critiques—as anything. The main claim: Mike White’s portrayals of the Hawaiians were superficial. For one, I am tired of white savior stories, and I am satisfied with a show where a white writer mocks what he knows best: rich white people. When announcing Season 2, White announced that because of logistics, the show would not be in Hawaii anymore. Later on, it was revealed it would take place in Sicily, Italy. While it was obvious that this would take away various of the colonial implications, so much remained left to explore, the capitalist implications and the power structures could still be analyzed. Yet, they were not. The show did almost a 180 in subject matter and genre, which coincidentally made it a TikTok hit.
I am unsure of what element made Season 2 instantly viral, but I do not remember so many people talking about The White Lotus one year ago. Perhaps it was the addition of Aubrey Plaza (honestly, I understand why anyone would watch a show just because of her), or the fact that it was in Sicily. While it is satisfying that a TV Show that broadcasted leftist ideas in its first season is becoming prominent, as always, the mass consumption of anything encourages mindless interaction with it.
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People on TikTok now claim that The White Lotus is vibes. There is a reason why the Gossip Girl Reboot was not successful—i.e. glorifying the lives of the rich in a post-pandemic society where inequality is becoming more prominent is not entertaining anymore. With new shows like Succession or Squid Game, the main theme in television instead has become ‘the failure of late-stage capitalism’. Thus, I was not surprised when The White Lotus’ creator, Mike White, clearly specified in a 2021 interview that the show was about power dynamics within a capitalist society:
I just wanted to get at how money really impacts all relationships, beyond even just guest and employee. But how some of these classic relationships — a couple on their honeymoon, a family on vacation, a woman who's maybe looking for love or looking for some kind of relaxing vacation on her own — and just try to orchestrate it around who has the money and calls the shots and how there's these power dynamics, even in these relationships that seem like they would transcend that kind of thing.
When writing Season 2, the creator also claimed that power would remain central, but he wanted to analyze it through the aspect of sex. However, the actual season deviated much from his original intention so can I blame TikTok for missing the point?
SATIRE VS. DRAMA
Roxana Hadidi writes in Vulture that Season 2 of The White Lotus felt like a Tenessee Williams play. I am not entirely sure if Hadidi is a Tenessee Williams fan (i am), but she implies the comparison is derogatory. A shift in the genre is not common for a tv-show to make, even if it is a limited series. The White Lotus Season 2, however, did a 180 with its tone. The first thing we see starting the season is a dead body floating in the water. From that moment, the show became a murder mystery, much bleaker and gloomier than its predecessor. This season does include some great comedic and satiric moments, but they are an extra element and not the main vehicle utilized to criticize power (which was White’s intention not so long ago).
Satire most often works through exaggeration to the point of absurdity, which is why it is so effective to employ when criticizing capitalism, it brings out its contradictions, and capitalism is full of them: the working class exists in a contradictory relationship with its needs and desires; the rich are alienated yet they alienate their workers from the means of production; the working class is expected to be the main consumers while being paid very poorly, etc. Until now, Fredric Jameson’s three levels of analysis remain the main method literary theory students are taught to analyze class in literary texts (r.i.p. me). The main thing I remember my professors reiterate is that we always had to look out for contradictions and conflicts, i.e. between classes, between desires and needs, between the id and the ego, etc. Jameson argues that genres like romance, myth, folklore, sci-fi, utopias, dystopias, etc. seek to bring an imaginary resolution to a political contradiction. However, critics like George Lukacs and Theodor Adorno would argue that the most effective thing to do is not to resolve any contradictions at all—which is precisely what satire does. Contradictions unsettle more and force audiences to take action, whereas resolutions provide a sense of catharsis to the viewers and comfort where they are at.
In Season 1, the contradiction between the working class and the rich reached a point of extreme discomfort. Tanya (Jennifer Coolidge) lives in a fantasy world where she has so much capital that does not even realize others need it to survive; Shane (Jake Lacy) acts like a spoiled child during the entire trip, demanding things he does not even need (a bigger room), and similarly to Tanya, he and his mother cannot even fathom the reality of having to work for money; and then the Mossbachers…the Mossbachers are not entirely delusional, but the irony is in them admitting stuff like: “Obviously imperialism was bad but…" It is excruciatingly hilarious to see how out of touch all of these people are, but at the same time, it is sour watching it in contrast with the reality of the working class of the hotel, and how class-conscious these workers actually are—which makes the point more evident. This is créme de la créme satire.
In Season 2, however, that perfect satire is lost. The rich still live delusional lives but the contradictions are not clear-cut. Perhaps the only savable contradiction is that some of the dialogue between the Di Grasso family showed how there was such a difference between what these men said they were vs. how they actually were—but even then, the delivery and tone were not as satirical as in the previous season. Take the sharp-tongue, cali girl accent of Olivia (Sydney Sweeney), vs. Albie’s (Adam DiMarco) monotone delivery. The fact that so many of the ridiculous claims of the Mossbachers were made in such a sardonic tone made the satire extra sharp. Further than that, there were not any apparent contradictions; there was barely any focus on the conditions of working-class characters like Valentina (Sabrina Impacciatore) and Portia (Hailey Lu Richardson), and in fact, most of these characters seemed to live in the same delusional bubble as the rich characters. If the focus was gender, still there is no clear distinction between the reality of men and women—take Ethan and Harper’s relationship as an example.
Many users on Twitter, Reddit, and TikTok claim that they love Season 2 more than Season 1 because the latter made them “uncomfortable”. While there were many grim moments in Season 2—the greatest of them being Tanya’s death—it felt more like voyeur drama than an actual and cunning critique of gender, hence the lack of uncomfortability. The climax and catharsis were resolved within the show liberating the viewer from questioning the political reality of the show. In Season 1, the rich win, and despite all the hopes and twists, the unsatisfactory lives of the working class remain the same. Aside from the death of Tanya, which was not even a murder but an accident, there is no other apparent victim, Portia and Valentina’s lives seem to be just fine, and Lucia (Simona Tabasco) and Mia (Beatrice Grannò), the local sex workers, actually end up winning, as they take money from the Di Grasso family. While there is some satisfaction in the fact that Lucia and Mia deceived some stupid rich men, the show does not make you think any more beyond that. This plot mirrors Kai’s (Kekoa Kekumano) attempt in season 1 to steal from the Mossbachers. However, season 1 was painfully realistic about it, the power structures—from the hotel management to the police— were not in Kai’s favor. Kai’s reality is vis a vis Shane’s, who is literally able to get away with murder for being white and rich—which makes you question society, as any good politically aware show would do.
GENDER VS. CLASS
The op-ed NYT columnist Michelle Goldberg says that in Season 2, “the elements of The White Lotus” ripest for TikTok deconstruction were red herrings.” Season 1 was about class dynamics, and apparently, Season 2 was going to be about toxic masculinity and sex, but as Goldberg said, the latter felt misleading. The main reason they did was because of the shallowness of the critiques of gender, one that only a liberal feminist could point out. I wonder why did White want to focus so much on gender when Season 1 already did a wonderful job at criticizing it. It is not like class and gender act completely independently of each other. For instance, the story of Rachel (Alexandra Daddario) as a trophy wife marrying a rich guy like Shane exemplified how men see women as commodities. Nothing you would not expect from someone that tries to fire hotel workers simply because he did not get the biggest room. To Shane, everyone, from the hotel manager to his own wife are pawns that are only there to serve his needs. It is obvious that his class and gender status feed each other. The equivalent of Shane this season would be Cameron (Theo James), and just like with the DiGrasso family, his status as a rich and white man is left completely unexplored. The racial relationship Cameron has with his half-Japanese college friend, Ethan (Will Sharpe) is not taken into account, nor is Ethan’s relationship with manhood as an Asian man.
Unlike Season 2, not only does Season 1 critique gender dynamics, but it also mocks white liberal feminism and the lack of intersectionality it has with class and race. For instance, Nicole Mossbacher (Connie Bryton) represents this laughable Hillary-esque white rich feminist, who gets extremely defensive when Rachel writes an article praising her as one of the most successful businesswomen. Nicole feels Rachel insinuated she capitalized on the #MeToo movement to climb the corporate ladder, which her defensiveness makes it evident that she did. At dinner, when Nicole overhears her daughter Olivia calling Hillary Clinton a neocon, she says “oh is that the trendy thing now? to hate on Hillary Clinton?” The season was hyperaware and meta about social justice performativity, which made its satire more powerful; it demonstrated how it was more than a performative and liberal show, it put out its snarky teeth. Season 2 lacked that meta-awareness, perhaps the further it got it was with the Di Grassos, but as mentioned, the extent to which that was successful was very limited.
The most powerful thing about Season 1 was how it showed the multiple levels of power individuals can have and how they intersect with each other. It was obvious that characters like Nicole, and Tanya had to deal with the misogyny of their partners, but their problems were not the center of the show, especially when other characters were victims of intersecting oppressive systems (racism, sexism, classism). This intersectionality was the great thing missing in Season 2. After watching Tanya being an out-of-touch lunatic was I supposed to feel any sympathy for her in Season 2? I wonder why they did not show the exploitative relationship Tanya had with her assistant, Portia? Instead, it is more heavily implied that they are very similar merely because of the fact that they are women. Portia is supposed to be a younger version of Tanya. However, the lack of money and privilege that Portia has is unmentioned. This is not to say that Tanya is not a victim of misogyny, but it did seem interesting how in the previous season she was portrayed as an oblivious rich white woman, and in this one, she became the main victim, when women like Portia, Lucia, Mia, Valentina, and Harper were right there. In Season 1, Armond is the perfect example of how someone can have power and still be a victim of other systems of exploitation. As a hotel manager, he abuses the power he has with his employees—like Lani and Dillon (Lukas Gage)—the sympathy one ends up feeling towards him is mixed with a bitter taste. He says to Dillon: “What do you care? You make shit money. They exploit me, I exploit you”.
Season 1 is filled with messages about the gaze and othering. Paula and Olivia read Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth and Lacan’s Ecrits. The Hawaiians and the hotel management serve as a perfect voyeur for the rich—they dance with fire, cook their glitzy dinners, and even have to play mommies and daddies for them. Season 2 also had the opportunity to make the workings of the gaze visible, but the Testa Di Moro in every room turned out to be mere decorations. I can hear the “let people enjoy things” crowd shouting at me “not everything has to be that deep”. To which I reply, if I would be watching Gossip Girl, I would not expect it to be deep, but if a show’s purpose is clearly set out in a different manner, then I am going to criticize it for what it intended to do. White claimed he wanted to do a season about sex and power, yet in the end that power is left unexplored—it appears that sex is a battlefield where everyone attempts to gain the upper hand, independently of their gender, class, or race (take Harper and Daphne as an example). However, gender, sex, and power are very much connected with each other, and it surprises me that a show that could analyze the depth of every social relation in Season 1 cannot simply portray the same in its second. While Season 1’s satire made the audience feel uncomfortable with the voyeur of tourism, the drama in Season 2 made voyeurism interesting to watch, and its lack of depth made watching the show feel like escapism, a spectacle, just vibes.