For the last eight weeks, my morning routine has been to get up, make coffee, and mentally get ready for the upcoming episode of HBO's The White Lotus. It has evolved into a weekly immersion in opulence, dysfunction, and mortality rather than merely a viewing experience. I was optimistic, high, caftan-clad, sun-kissed aspirations about the upcoming show. In complete sincerity, I was so much more intrigued by the first two seasons that Armond was at his final fallout in a hotel restroom. Season 1 included a politicised ballet performed in Hawaii's beautiful light. And as two of the program's three settings—the hot mess of Thailand and the streets of Sicily—are conjurer-like represented on the show, I can safely say that the visual team nailed the picture-perfect magic just right. But the tale? This time, it was like dining at a Michelin-starred restaurant, only to discover that the service is lousy and that even the Whiskey's Old Malt tastes like feet.
This time, Mike White's anthology series's third season takes place in the far-flung country of Thailand. Where visitors once more conflict with the upscale White Lotus resort's emphasis on spirituality and well-being. As visitors encounter the promise of enlightenment, serenity, and novel sensations, this season delves into issues of spirituality and Eastern wellness culture. However, as is typical of the series, the idyllic tropical backdrop conceals a sinister underbelly that progressively draws characters into perilous and unnerving situations that serve their problems and goals.
The staging of the play, which perfectly presents the mystique of the jungle, the sensory overload of Bangkok, and the refined sterility of luxury, is breathtaking. The hotel itself had the appearance of a fever dream for influencers. The White Lotus is situated in Thailand, which enables us to examine Western fascination with Eastern mysticism. There is a lot of tension and an unnerving atmosphere added by the juxtaposition between the resort's artificial tranquillity and the real Thailand outside. As the protagonists' psychological states worsen, the cinematography creates increasingly cramped interiors while making the most of Thailand's breathtaking vistas. It does a great job of exposing the difference between human ugliness and natural beauty.
The eerie tunes provide an omnipresent backdrop throughout this season, reflecting the atmosphere of the setting and the characters' collapsing mental states. It enhances the situations rather than merely complements them, transforming quiet or calm passages into tense or sinisterly ironic moments. Followed by depictions of Rick and Chelsea by Walton and Aimee, which were so thoroughly alluring. A dejected man with a difficult background sits next to Chelsea, who is full of romantic ideas and hope. It is both captivating, amusing, and depressing to see them connect. Their portrayal dives deeper into the pursuit of second chances and the search for grander life schemes.. The bond between Wood and Goggins gives their complicated relationship legitimacy. Without a doubt, it is my favourite plot.
Unfortunately, the reward isn't worth the patience required. The sluggishness that comes with overeating is evident in the first moments of Season 3. I waited for the slow burn to ignite, but sadly, it never did. There was never any brooding tension. The plot never grew more sophisticated. Alas the gallant echoes of what it could be are much louder than its actuality. The season had a desperate need to have something to say, but rather it stood at the shore of the beach, agape, forgetting its script. Some characters and interactions, although strong performances, seem a little too similar to those we've already seen in previous seasons. Because the settings are becoming repetitive, some tales are becoming simpler to predict and, as a result, a little less interesting.
This season looked spotty and scattered as if abandoned starters on a lazy Susan, quite unlike the other two seasons, where characters were bound by circumstance, class, or intolerable familial obligations. Hotel managers, who were normally due to serve us a tasty combination of charisma, chaos, and existential suffering, were let down.
We had Parker Posey in Season 3. Don't get me wrong, I loved the accent. The slimy delivery was great. She had a vibe. But TikTok tried to convince us that Posey's personality could substitute for Tanya's Gucci heels, and I'm here to inform you that she can't. She is not to blame. She had curiosity but no legacy from the writing. But like a beach ball in a monsoon, even that story, full of promise, gradually lost its lustre. Naturally, we must then discuss that subplot. The brothers Ratliff. The incest, indeed. Because it seems that you can add a little taboo and hope that the hashtags trend when everything else fails. Unquestionably, the revelation was startling. Uncomfortable. A bit scary. And not in The White Lotus's normal witty, sardonic manner. They paddle into the deepest reaches of Freud's mind one minute, and then they're paddleboarding again. Yes, it went viral, but I couldn't help but question if this was just a shock for the sake of shock.
A chaotic climax, when all that is happening but not in a nice manner, signalled the season's climax. There are positives. I found the imagery, the eerie soundtracks and the bond between Rick and Chelsea thoroughly ensnaring. I didn't enjoy Season 3 overall, though. Although it sounds and looks fantastic, the story's core felt drained, as if it were taunting the audience without providing a satisfactory resolution. The show attempts to explore some intriguing subjects, such as spirituality and identity, but it becomes engrossed in its never-ending mystery. Not enough payoff, too many unresolved ends, and too many characters. Without better writing or a more distinct plot, the pattern is becoming too clichéd, and the season ends up seeming more annoying than interesting. It's not my favourite season, but it's not a complete miss either. So, will I go and watch season four, absolutely yes!