The White Lotus Brings a Bunch of 'Losers Back Home' to Thailand
Deep breath in, deep breath out. The third and final installment of White Lotus, Mike White’s sharply sensational whodunit series about rich people on their worst behavior while on vacation returned Sunday night and plopped us in the resort’s Thailand outpost, where guests are encouraged to ditch their phones (classic horror trope) and plunge into a week of wellness. Of course, things at the White Lotus never go as planned. Immediately, some guests refused to relinquish their connection to the outside world, others flirted unsuccessfully poolside, and at least one man has already gone through a pack of cigarettes. All of them are varying degrees of unwell and, more so than in past seasons, feel already weighed down by their egos and aberrations, even against the blissfully blue and buoyant waters surrounding the resort.
The episode opens on the recurring premise that some (or at least one) of the characters do not make it out of their one-week vacation alive. But, unlike in seasons 1 and 2, which have shown a corpse bobbing in the ocean or someone getting zipped up in a body bag without explanation, this time, we know exactly what led to their demise. Gunshots ring out through the resort causing guests to scream and run for shelter and a body floats through the lily pad mote. I was sat in front of the television, eager to escape into the deliriously disconnected social mores of the 1% only to be met with the everyday horror of mass shootings. This wasn’t a funny freak accident or an ironic ego-driven death; it felt bleaker, an unsettling tone shift from past seasons. While it wasn’t exactly the mood I was hoping to snuggle up with on a Sunday evening, its distinction certainly made me more curious about Mike White’s direction with this season. With that in mind, let’s review the suspects, and of course, potential victims.
Guests at White Lotus arrive, like they always do, by boat. On board were the Raitliffs, a wealthy family from the Research Triangle of North Carolina helmed by patriarch Timothy Raitliff (Jason Isaacs), whose Carolina blue business polo stays on at the resort, and wife Victoria (Parker Posey) who’s really pushing the limits of phonetic imagination (complimentary) with her southern accent. The three Raitliff kids, Saxon (Patrick Schwarzenegger), Piper (Sarah Catherine Hook), and Lochlan (Sam Nivola) (also pitch-perfect names) feel like supporting actors to their parents’ self-absorption, save for Chad-pilled Saxon who’s hellbent on following in his father’s footsteps and also maybe wants to fuck his sister? The family traveled to Thailand because of Piper’s paper-thin senior thesis on Buddhism and her plan to interview a famous monk. Each time Saxon mentioned how hot she is or pondered her virginity, an undeniable whiff of incest filled the room. Decidedly not Zen.
The next batch of guests is a white woman trifecta of Carrie Coon, Leslie Bibb, and Michelle Monaghan as Laurie, Kate, and Jaclyn, respectively. Childhood friends traveling to Thailand on Jaclyn’s dime, since she’s a famous TV actress now. But there’s a veiled tension between the wide-toothed grins and incessant coos of “it’s soooo nice to get away.” Kate’s husband seems to be a big, rich deal in Austin, Texas, and we don’t know much about Laurie yet except that she has a daughter who’s “turning into a really cool girl” (possibly derogatory). Notably, Mike White hasn’t given us adult friends on vacation yet, making this dynamic the most novel. Also, if only one thing can be inscribed on Mike White’s tombstone, it ought to be, “He crucified white women with his pen.” All to say, I’m waiting with bated breath for this trio to implode.
Next, we have bubbly and light Chelsea (Aimee Lou Wood and her goddamn perfect teeth) and dirtbag Rich Hatchett (Walter Goggins): an energetically misaligned age-gap couple who seem to be in Thailand so that Rick can have a run-in with the resort’s owner, Jim Hollinger. To his dismay, Jim is recovering from a stroke in Bangkok, which makes Rick switch his sights to Jim’s wife, the resort’s boss and pioneer of its wellness program, Sritala (Lek Patravadi).
Speaking of this renowned wellness program, Belinda (Natasha Rothwell) from Season 1 is back! While alluding to a few tough years (a dead boss, a dead former client, and more I’m sure), she tells her new mentor, Pornchai (Dom Hetrakul), that she’s eager to learn as much as she can in Thailand during her three months to bring back to her practice Hawaii. Previews for future episodes suggest she might pick up some kissing lessons, as well. Wink, wink. We’ve also been introduced to Mook (Lalisa Manobal), a hotel health mentor who has got her hands full with these nutty guests and at least two, potentially three, crushes, including hotel security guard Gaitok (Tayme Thapthimthong).
Deep breath in, deep breath out. This being our third serving of out-of-touch vacationers on foreign soil, some moments in this expositional episode felt a little stale. Kookiness for kookiness sake. But a key moment that stuck out for me was when Chelsea, taking time apart from hotheaded Rick, encounters another young, beautiful woman, Chloe (Charlotte Le Bon) doing the same. Chloe points out her fickle beau, seated across the restaurant at a table by himself and we’re surprised to see Greg aka Tanya McQuoid’s murderous ex (played by John Gries). She quips that Greg is what the locals call an “LBH,” or a “loser back home.”
LBHs, a term new to me, are typically Western men who flee to places like southeast Asia in hopes that their capital (social, sexual, and financial) can stretch further there, perhaps dabbling in sex tourism. Chloe notes that these men tend to be balding and Chelsea laughs that Rick is indeed losing his hair. (Walter Goggin’s hairline is as iconic as Aimee Lou Wood’s smile, in my opinion.) But I couldn’t help but feel like each and every hotel guest we’ve met so far is an LBH, not just the ill-tempered, bald men. The Raitliffs and their hyper-local status obsession (Go Tar Heels!); the blonde women trio and their Russian roulette of loaded compliments; Chelsea and Rick’s relationship hanging on by a thinning thread of tantric sex—all feel like varying shades of loserish-ness. And of course, you can fly halfway around the world, but the stench of being a flop clings on. I am decidedly seated to see how Mike White conveys that delectably putrid stench each week.