In the spirit of the saying “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” the “White Lotus” season premiere — “Same Spirits, New Forms” — delivers exactly what its title promises. For those unfamiliar, the “spirit” of the White Lotus television series centers around a luxury resort enterprise functioning as a cultural refuge for the hyper-rich. Far from broke, the Emmy award-winning first and second seasons of “White Lotus” cemented themselves in the zeitgeist as a satirical exploration of America’s ever-expanding wealth gap. Each season thus far has transformed the serene utopia of a Four Seasons property into a crime scene where everything that can go wrong, does, and where somebody innocent is sure to end up dead.
“Same Spirits, New Forms” commences with a foreboding theme song, titled “Enlightenment,” by Cristobal Tapia De Veer that is simultaneously folklike and transcendent. The signature “White Lotus” title card lands against a background littered with ornate Buddhist iconography, underscoring the Western exploration of orientalism that is sure to go satirized in episodes to come. In keeping with its last two season premieres, season three’s story begins at its end with an uncontextualized eruption of violence — amid wavering palm trees and guided meditations, four gunshots rudely disrupt the spiritual oasis that is the White Lotus Thailand. The gunshots that follow, louder and more visceral, provoke a resort-wide hysteria that endangers civilians, leading the audience to believe that this season’s concluding murder might be part of a broader conspiracy. The heightened scale of violence — multiple gunshots as opposed to a washed up body, as showcased in season two — potentially foreshadows a more involved meta-narrative which mobilizes the entire resort into a state of panic. Whereas past seasons have concluded with one, accidental death, season three teases an intensified echelon of premeditation and malice.
Known for casting an assortment of forgotten but beloved C-list actors, White centers his latest season around four travel bookings. A nuclear family from the South, the Ratcliffs, split up into three bedrooms to hesitantly support their daughter’s thesis research on a Buddhist monk. Two free-spirited lovebirds — easily confused for father and daughter — end the episode on a not-talking basis. Three middle-aged MILFs exchange plastic surgeons and insist they aren’t on a “midlife crisis trip,” and Belinda, a White Lotus service worker and masseuse from season one, makes her reappearance as part of an international training initiative.
As is natural with any series that toggles between multiple intersecting sub-plots, one character emerges as the most compelling of the privileged bunch. Enter Patrick Schwarzenegger’s character, Saxon — your archetypical frat douchebag with a return offer from dad’s company and a closet full of Sperry Topsiders. You’ve met this character many times before, whether in a Dartmouth economics class or in “White Lotus” season one — hi Shane Patton (Jake Lacy) — but never in such an odd, off-putting form: Could the girl-crazy alpha male be harboring suppressed incestual impulses toward his brother? Saxon quickly establishes himself as a train wreck you can’t look away from, hitting on every sentient woman by the pool and jerking off beside his brother in their shared hotel room.
With multiple crass references to sex, power and “pussy,” Saxon is clearly overcompensating for something — and something sinister. But what that sinister thing is we cannot yet be sure. Where Saxon alphas his family in dialogue, Schwarzenegger dominates in performance, masterfully enticing the audience by putting a multi-dimensional spin on the prep school misogynist cliché we know well.
Thai resort employee Mook, played by Lisa Manobal of Blackpink, also serves as a standout character. Even for audiences outside her K-pop fanbase, Manobal’s acting debut intrigues and excites. Ironically, the stunning popstar plays the role of a demure service worker well, complacently accepting compliments on her “cuteness” as if it’s any surprise that a humble hotel worker could be attractive. Much of the show’s racial and economic politics unfold around Mook, whose relationship with a lowly hotel valet stands on rocky, class-conscious ground.
White simultaneously satirizes and humanizes wealth by incorporating moments of relatability against out-of-touch one-liners. Saxon’s father, Timothy Ratliff (Jason Isaacs), recites dialogue reminiscent of real-life boomers who think it is acceptable to use a condescending tone to their waiter so long as they cushion it with a generous tip. White bears an impressive ability to dial in on a cultural niche and nail it with searing accuracy: Saxon goes to Duke, not Harvard, and Jaclyn (Michelle Monaghan), a well-known actress within the diegesis of the show, feigns an earnest influencer-esque attitude, rather than an overdone, snobby celebrity aura. The series rides a fine line between being relatable and satirical, with characters displaying a range of self-awareness.
Bringing life and novelty to a foolproof formula is not an easy task, and while White succeeds in creating an ensemble of compelling (and human) caricatures, he fails to play to his strengths as a satirist. The charm of prior seasons resided in small moments of laughter among a larger unfolding plot. But there was not much to laugh out loud about in “Same Spirits, New Forms.” This season, I worry that an over-involved plot may overshadow the series’s humor. With Jennifer Coolidge — playing the botoxed and airheaded Tanya McQuoid — gone, the show is missing a needed comedic element. As much as I loved to laugh at the douchebag frat boy and unemployed bohemian ex-yoga instructor, there was nobody to laugh with.
Although the pilot’s plot activation moved on island time, which is to say, incredibly slowly, “Same Spirits, New Forms” lays the foundation for many cultural taboos. White builds tension without cementing it in on-the-nose dialogue and Thailand proves to be an enticing battleground for spectacle to unfold — with all of its brooding animality and exoticized cultural emblems. The monkey emerges as a motif to watch out for, subliminally asserting ferocity, voyeurism, playfulness and danger, hidden beneath the trees. While watching the wildlife roam, one can only speculate as to which character will succumb to their most animalistic compulsions by the series finale.
Rating: ★★★★
