by Vanessa Huang
In the midst of this dreary winter, The White Lotus has returned to bring us yet more delicious escapism with its second series. There’s nothing quite like the allure of the obscenely wealthy and the opportunity to live vicariously through them as they jet off to exotic locations and wallow in the sunshine. It’s all the more entertaining when they turn out to be utterly miserable.
This series largely hits the same beats as its predecessor, with a sinister opening that in particular seems to be a copy-paste job: a dead body is discovered on the beach in a flash forward before we’re whizzed back to the present to witness a new crop of guests arriving at the White Lotus resort. We are however starting somewhat anew – relocating from tropical Hawaii to the resort’s outpost in Taormina, Sicily. Barring Tanya (Jennifer Coolidge) and Greg (Jon Gries), the characters have also been swapped out for a brand new, equally vacuous ensemble.
Heiress Tanya is now married to Greg and is clueless as ever, arriving in Sicily with her assistant/emotional support animal, Portia (Haley Lu Richardson), in tow. Also holidaying at the resort are a multigenerational trio – Albie (Adam DiMarco), his father Dominic (Michael Imperioli), and grandfather Bert (F. Murray Abraham) – on a finding-your-roots trip hampered by Dominic’s history of infidelity. Joining them are two young, nouveau riche couples, played by Aubrey Plaza, Will Sharpe, Meghann Fahy, and Theo James. The two men, former college roommates, are tragically quintessential bro-types, engaging in cartoonish alpha male power play. Weaving together these seemingly disparate groups are the hotel staff alongside two local sex workers who mingle with the guests in the hopes of earning some more income.
As relationships sour and lives implode, showrunner Mike White taps into the schadenfreude we experience as voyeurs of the uber wealthy getting their comeuppance. It’s something that seems to be trendier than ever this year — Glass Onion, The Menu, and Triangle of Sadness have each had a go at class commentary. But while these depictions have verged on heavy-handed skewering, The White Lotus handles its satire more deftly, navigating complex interpersonal relationships with an acerbic wit that nonetheless holds some space for nuance.
Where the first series was a ruthless dissection of the intersections between class, race, and colonialism, this series has shifted its gaze towards sexual inequalities, laid bare through White’s punchy dialogue and foreshadowed by a stunningly operatic opening credits sequence. Acting-wise it’s a step up from the first series: the endlessly meme-able Coolidge, far and away the standout from the first series, is more evenly matched this time by the likes of Plaza and Fahy.
Yet for all its strengths, this Sicilian iteration can’t quite escape the shadow of the first series. White is a little overly reliant on replicating the formula that made the first series a runaway success. The satire just isn’t as biting the second time around. And with the news of a forthcoming third series, it’s difficult to see where this well-worn template on wealth and its discontents will be able to go.
The White Lotus sets out to expose the self-destructive greed for more that lies beneath our performative free-spirited hedonism. Though it’s hardly the subversive, cerebral masterpiece that was promised, it’s still a wildly enjoyable albeit anxiety-inducing thrill ride.
