"The White Lotus," a series that has always revolved around sensuality, has elevated this dreamy, whimsical, and intoxicating ambiance to new heights in its third season. This week's episode, set against the backdrop of the resort's dinner service, bombards both the guests and us, the viewers, with an array of distractions. Musicians, dancers, and acrobats provide lively entertainment during meals, while flames leap from table-side food preparations, adding to the spectacle. Meanwhile, the characters grapple with jet lag and culture shock, not to mention a pleasant buzz from the festivities. (After all, it is vacation.) The overwhelming surrealism makes even a sudden outbreak of violence seem like a dream sequence.
This week, we receive neither answers nor hints regarding the identity of the deceased we witnessed in the season premiere or the circumstances that will culminate in gunfire at the White Lotus. However, we do witness a robbery. As Chelsea peruses the resort's luxury boutique, a masked gunman wielding a weapon executes a bold smash-and-grab, terrorizing the staff and guests alike. The identity of this criminal remains another unresolved mystery, adding to the eerie vibe that something is amiss in Thailand.
Nonetheless, we gain further insight into our guests' whereabouts. The Ratliffs spend their first full day at the White Lotus lounging and indulging in massages, with Saxon even complaining that his massage lacked a "happy ending." The only Ratliff who refrains from pampering himself is patriarch Tim. When their health mentor, Pam, informs him that she didn't book anything for him, he responds enthusiastically, "You're killing it, Pam!"
Following the ominous phone call Tim received from The Wall Street Journal on the night of their arrival in Thailand, he learns in the morning that The Washington Post also wishes to interview him. Whatever shadowy money laundering scheme he is entangled in—which he claims netted him a measly "10 million"—is poised to become international news.
Rick, similarly troubled, takes advantage of one of the spa's amenities, succumbing to his girlfriend Chelsea's persuasion to partake in a "stress-management" session with Dr. Amrita (Shalini Peiris), a meditation specialist. (We first encountered Amrita last week in the opening flash-forward alongside Zion.) Rick bares only a glimpse of his personal life to Amrita, revealing nothing about the dark mission that has brought him to Thailand. He confides in her that his mother was a drug addict and his father was murdered before he was born, noting that his stress level typically hovers around an 8 out of 10, unless he has weed—which he currently lacks.
It's challenging to discern the genuine depth of Rick's honesty with Amrita. He lacks both a motive to deceive and a compelling reason to be candid. What captivates in their dynamic is Amrita's earnest philosophical musings, urging him to see his identity as an "illusion" that "breeds suffering," while he firmly counters, asserting the world's tangibility. "A car won't start without gas in the tank," he remarks. "Nothing springs from void, does it?"
Elsewhere, the women engage in biomarker testing, subtly—and at times, not so subtly—comparing their results. They triumphantly boast about their exceptional hydration levels but express skepticism when numerous results claim they possess the vitality of someone half their age. (Jaclyn and Kate appear unnecessarily astonished when Laurie reveals her "fat mass" is below 25%.) Their conversations revolve around the vigilant efforts they undertake to maintain health, with Jaclyn branding it "my duty" as an actress wedded to a hunk half her age, and Kate contending that to eat nutritiously in Austin, she's conditioned her mind to embrace beans.
The crux of the ladies' storyline this week unfolds in two pivotal scenes that frame the episode. The first transpires late on their arrival night. After Laurie retires, Jaclyn and Kate momentarily extol her virtues and her thriving life in New York, seamlessly transitioning—without a notable tone shift—to discussing Laurie's arduous divorce, stagnant career, and questionable choice to nurture an emotionally disturbed daughter in the metropolis. They conclude by branding their "wonderful friend" as "defeated"... potentially an alcoholic.
The subsequent night witnesses Laurie and Kate dissecting Jaclyn in her absence. They commence by praising her as "amazing" and "hilarious," before Laurie clarifies "hilarious" as competitive, narcissistic, and vain. ("Did she undergo facial sandblasting or something?" Kate inquires. "It's beyond mere cosmetics.") They maintain Jaclyn is "still stunning," yet question the robustness of her marriage. ("She claims they're addicted to each other, but are they ever even in the same metropolis?").
White possesses a remarkable talent for penning this particular genre of dialogue and for guiding actors through scenes where smiles and camaraderie veil a chilling undertone. In another highlight of this episode, Kate initiates a chat with Victoria Ratliff, whom she vividly recalls sharing an entire weekend with at a baby shower for a mutual acquaintance. Throughout their interaction, Victoria maintains a superficially pleasant demeanor, yet steadfastly refuses to acknowledge her acquaintance with Kate or their shared past at the shower.
When her children later reprimand her for her perceived rudeness, Victoria remains unperturbed. She holds Kate's affluence and her Hollywood actress friend in utter disdain. ("Actresses," she declares with a sneer, "are little more than prostitutes, if they're fortunate. Am I correct?") Victoria resides in a cocoon of her own making, numbed by anxiety medication and distrustful of anyone outside her immediate family. She cautions her offspring that the world teems with "scammers" devoid of "proper values" — unlike her own beloved brood, of course, whom she views with unwavering admiration, even when Saxon resorts to racist stereotypes to gripe about the lack of service during his massage.
Once again, White excels at portraying the delusional realm of self-importance inhabited by Victoria — and, indeed, by all the Ratliffs. Even Lochlan and Piper, who pride themselves on being more enlightened than their brute of a brother and their materialistic parents, bear a striking resemblance to Victoria.
This episode features a visually stunning and profoundly unsettling scene where Lochlan and Piper lounge in hammocks suspended just above the waters of the Gulf of Thailand. As they converse about Saxon's piggish behavior and Piper's insights from Buddhism studies, White places us at the children's eye level, inviting us to empathize with their sensations amidst the warm sun, the soothing sea, the gentle waves, and the swaying ropes supporting their scantily clad figures.
Yet, as crucial as their feelings are, their thoughts hold equal significance. When Lochlan confesses to Piper that he attempted to pray during a session in a sensory deprivation tank, he admits that the experience yielded nothing profound. No spiritual enlightenment. No comforting divine presence. He was left solely with himself. Nothing more. As Lochlan puts it, bluntly and starkly, "I felt like I was merely conversing with my own shadow."
