The White Lotus: A Vacation for the Rich, A Nightmare for the Soul
By Trinity Barnette
I finally caved and binged The White Lotus—and honestly, someone needs to shut this resort down. How has it not been investigated? Audited? Exorcised? Every season someone dies, and every season the guests keep showing up like nothing happened. Like, how many mysterious deaths does it take before someone shuts it down?
But that’s the brilliance of The White Lotus: it’s not just a show about luxury. It’s a twisted, glittery character study drenched in privilege, repression, power games, and silent suffering. It lures you in with drone shots of infinity pools and then hits you with raw, messy chaos—people unraveling in real time while sipping overpriced cocktails.
It’s not about who dies. It’s about how the living can be even more disturbing.
Season by Season Breakdown
Season 1: Microaggressions, Masculinity, and Mess
Set in Hawaii, this season introduces us to the idea that wealth makes people feel safe, but in reality, they’re just better at hiding their dysfunction. From Shane’s obsessive entitlement to Armond’s chaotic spiral, we see what happens when the help gets pushed too far and the guests refuse to self-reflect. It’s colonialism with a side of spa treatments.
Season 2: Sex, Power, and the Rot Behind the Romance
Italy gave us erotic tension, infidelity, and the uncomfortable truth that power is rarely shared—especially in relationships. The men were either predators, emotionally manipulative, or deeply insecure, while the women quietly plotted, endured, or retaliated. Aubrey Plaza’s Harper nearly loses herself trying to play the game, and Tanya? Let’s just say… the gays were trying to murder her.
Season 3: Southern Secrets and Family Baggage
By Season 3, the show knows exactly what it is—and leans all the way in. The Ratliff family brings Southern drama, delusion, and secrets that unravel at a disturbing pace. The themes shift toward legacy, shame, and the price of silence. Every character has a secret, but the weight of what they don’t say is even heavier.
Themes That Hit Too Hard
Repression Is a Luxury Product
These characters aren’t happy—they’re just rich enough to pretend they are. Everyone’s suppressing something: desire, rage, grief, or guilt. And it always explodes.
Money Doesn’t Make You Moral
The wealthier the guest, the more entitled they are. Rules don’t apply. Apologies are optional. Empathy is non-existent. They’re not good people—they just have good taste.
Tourism As Control
The show critiques how Westerners colonize paradise for “self-care” while disregarding the damage they leave behind. The White Lotus isn’t just a resort—it’s a metaphor for privilege unchecked.
Death Is the Great Equalizer
In every season, someone dies. And in every season, we’re reminded: it doesn’t matter how rich or beautiful you are—consequence comes for everyone.
Cinematic Beauty Masking Emotional Decay
Let’s talk about how the show looks like a luxury travel campaign but feels like a slow-burn psychological horror. The opening credits? Disturbing. The score? Unhinged. The atmosphere? Glorious and suffocating all at once. The show seduces you, then guts you—and that’s the point.
Now Let’s Talk About My Favorite Characters (And Why They Ate)
Not everyone in The White Lotus was likable—but that’s what made them iconic. Here are the characters who owned their screen time, lived (or died) dramatically, and made my toxic little heart full:
Armond (Season 1)
A hot mess. A chaotic king. Armond was the hotel manager unraveling in real time. His vendetta against Shane (a walking Google review in human form) had me wheezing. His breakdown was both hilarious and tragic, and his descent into drugs, rage, and petty sabotage was… weirdly cathartic? He’s that coworker who’s two weeks away from snapping—and you support him anyway.
Belinda (Seasons 1 & 3)
Belinda gave her emotional labor to a rich white woman who dangled a “business opportunity” like a bone. Tanya played in her face, and honestly? I would’ve snapped too. So yes, in Season 3, Belinda moved differently. But Tanya was dead, dreams were crushed, and success doesn’t come easy—especially for Black women in wellness. She got hers. And I cheered.
Tanya (Seasons 1 & 2)
Tanya. Queen of delusion. Princess of chaos. Mother of emotionally stunted luxury. The way she figured out the setup and shot those men like she was in a Tarantino film? Iconic. The way she then died falling off a yacht? Even more iconic. Tanya wasn’t just a character—she was a cautionary tale wrapped in designer prints and inner child wounds. She will never be forgotten (or emotionally processed).
Harper Spiller (Season 2)
I mean… it’s Aubrey Plaza. Do I even need to explain? Harper is deadpan brilliance with simmering rage. She’s too smart for her marriage, too observant for her friend group, and too exhausted to fake it anymore. Watching her walk that line between cold detachment and emotional implosion was a whole vibe. She wasn’t there to make friends—she was there to make subtle judgmental facial expressions and expose lies.
The Ratliff Family (Season 3)
A Southern soap opera come to life. Lochey talking about “being a pleaser” had me on the FLOOR. Saxon and Lochey felt like the human version of a family heirloom that’s cursed but still passed down. The Ratliffs had secrets, scandals, and a family dynamic so deeply broken it belonged in a Faulkner novel—and I loved every second.
Victoria Ratliff (Season 3)
The woman, the mystery, the Southern menace. Victoria Ratliff is the personification of “I said what I said” energy. From the accent to the passive-aggressive judgment to the terrifyingly calm delivery of shade—she was giving Virgo sun, Capricorn moon, Southern Baptist upbringing. She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t lose control. She slices your ego with a smile and a string of pearls.
Rick & Chelsea (Season 3)
Rick had the impulsivity of a young man carrying way too much trauma and nowhere to put it. Chelsea loved him deeply—maybe too deeply. Their storyline was a slow tragedy fueled by secrets, abandonment, and generational lies. Could it have ended differently? Maybe. But the moment his “dad” called his mom a slut instead of just telling the truth? Game over. Rage won.
Final Thoughts: The Cost of Escaping Yourself
The White Lotus isn’t just a drama—it’s a cautionary tale wrapped in designer linen. It strips away the illusion that luxury can save you, that money can cleanse you, or that silence keeps you safe. Every character thought they could run from the truth, bury their trauma in paradise, and sip their way to peace. But paradise doesn’t heal you—it reveals you. That’s what makes the show so brilliant… and so haunting. It reminds us that no matter how far you travel, you’re still taking your soul—and all its scars—with you.
