The White Lotus season three: The dying embers of a slow burn

Season one gave us family and Hawaii. Season two was sex and Sicily. Our latest season of The White Lotus takes on spirituality and Thailand.

Mike White’s formula – a murder mystery set in a fictional hotel for the disgustingly wealthy – is compounded with thematic mastery and social commentary to construct a rich satire, with a side of intrigue.

With every season, actors are collected from all across the industry. This season is no exception: from Sex Education’s Aimee Lee Wood and The Hateful Eight’s Walter Goggins, to, in her acting debut, Lalisa Manobal, better known as Lisa from Blackpink. Yet, despite seeming like an odd amalgamation of actors, it always cohesively blends into a united ensemble.

Stellar performances are always delivered, a product of both writing and acting alike, with Sam Rockwell’s four minute and 44 second ‘Asian girl’ monologue becoming the season standout. Despite his fleeting appearances scattered throughout the later episodes, Rockwell asks the question at the heart of the season: ‘are we our forms?’

White examines the relationship between the corporeal and the spirit, asking whether bodily physicality determines the interior self. But I think the question we should be asking is whether The White Lotus has lost its form? Is White’s tried and tested formula failing?

Season three has tested the flicker of suspense more than ever

This is the first time I’ve struggled with some of the performances in the show. Seven episodes deep, I’m starting to question how many times can I watch Timothy Ratliff (Jason Isaacs) contemplate suicide? How many times can I watch his wife, Victoria, (Parker Posey) drone mournfully over her lost lorazepam, in the exhaustive air of Blanche Dubois? The acting is becoming grating, bordering on feeling oppressive.

Online, this season has also faced criticism for its slow pacing. Scenes often hinge on the promise of delivering something wild, and at times, it seems they are on the verge of spilling out of control, yet as soon as this feeling arises within viewers, it passes over as sudden as a breeze. Season three has tested the flicker of suspense more than ever.

But has White gone too far? Whilst tension is integral to the design of The White Lotus, the past seven episodes are starting to arouse a flat disappointment instead of the intended grip of intrigue. There are growing concerns that the deeper White teases his audience, the more unbothered we become.

That being said, we still have the finale left. But with a multitude of plotlines to wrap up, alongside the task of addressing the accumulated suspense, it is seeming like an impossible feat.

However, if all we, as viewers, hyperfixate on is the anticipation of noisy, climatic scenes, we lose the quiet, subtle nuances of White’s writing, which forms the foundational bedrock of the show. There are thousands of louder, more superficial programmes about murder and lies and crime; The White Lotus stands out because of its authenticity, its refusal to be gaudy or predictable.

White offers some of the sharpest social commentary on television

Operating underneath the larger framework of the show, White offers some of the sharpest social commentary on television. Mostly this manifests in the conversations between our characters at dinner, by the pool, or in the hotel rooms. These beautifully simple, stripped-back scenes are often our only insights to characters outside of their performative pretences.

Take the ‘Blonde Bob’ trio. So-called best friends since their youth, bound by years and time spent together. Yet, over a dinner scene in episode three, Kate (Leslie Bibb) implies she voted for Trump in the 2016 election. This is to the horror of Jaclyn (Michelle Monaghan) and Laurie (Carrie Coon), whose politics form an inherent part of their carefully curated aesthetic as proud Democrats. Upon this confession, for a moment, it feels like the women don’t recognise each other anymore.

This scene, especially under the context of the current Trump administration, is nothing short of brilliant. Yet, my fear is that these moments that, on the surface appear as unassuming filler, will be lost to audience impatience. However, these are White’s quiet moments of explosion, far more powerful than the wider reveals, and they are integral to the genetic composition of the show.

This show successfully manages some of our greatest societal preoccupations and concerns. The legacy of colonialism, incel culture, hedonism, sexual politics, the fetishisation of the exotic, and the epidemic of modern masculinity. The list is endless. Within this, White does not push his politics onto anyone, but rather takes a step back and lets the viewers think for themselves. It is as if we too are given a seat at the table for these over-dinner conversations.

The White Lotus season three has been met with varying reactions, with theories ranging from the plausible to the outlandish circulating to no end, and it feels that the reputation and future of the show hangs desperately onto this final episode.

The question of our satisfaction is left unanswered until its conclusion.