HBO's White Lotus is apathetic escapism at its finest (Link Dump 22.08.21)
She lets me drive her car so I can score an eighth from the lesbians out west in Venice
VANCOUVER – Of all my problematic faves the Hawaiian islands, and Maui in particular, are among the most problematic-iest. With its iridescent craters, white sand beaches, and goat lined hills, the island feels less like a trip and more like a destination. The platonic ideal of the island getaway. A portal to a pristine, natural world, where you can forget your cares and where you can get pineapple at McDonald’s.
If it sounds too good to be true, that’s because it is.
For many indigenous peoples, Maui is not so much an escape from capitalist oppression but the living embodiment of it. For them the island, like the rest of Hawaii, is occupied territory, invaded first by colonists before the Hawaiian Kingdom was overthrown by sugar producers and other international businessmen in 1893. In 1898, it was annexed by the United States, who sought to “obliterate the national consciousness of the Hawaiian Kingdom,” forcing indigenous Hawaiian children to learn english, and generally alienating them from their culture, all the while increasing their reliance the States via federal jobs, international tourism, and other beacons of American industry.
While this reality is briefly touched on in HBO’s The White Lotus, the show’s sardonic stance on inequality and privilege feels more subdued when viewed through the lens of Hawaii’s annexation. Ancillary characters like Kai, and his acquaintance-with-benefits Sophia, acknowledge indigenous Hawaiians’ desire for sovereignty, even as the show indulges the escapist fantasies that have allowed Americans and tourists to distance themselves from the state’s history. As Mitchell Kuga writes for Vox, “locals appear as exotic fodder and naive natives to further white characters’ enlightenment… mimicking every corny cinematic depiction of Hawaii, from North Shore to 50 First Dates.” In other words, the few Hawaiian characters included in the show feel unfortunately one-dimensional. Even Kai, whom we are supposed to empathize with, is little more than a caricature: an exotic, tattoo’d Hawaiian, who dances with fire, and helps move the plot along.
In this sense, it seems White Lotus creator Mike White is trying to have his pineapple upside down cake and eat it too. By acknowledging white privilege and the colonial power structures that help to perpetuate it, White implies he’s in on the joke. But I’m not so sure. In an interview with Vulture, White acknowledges the season finale plays into “the trope of the magical locals, this pastoral life,” but says he’s “calibrated” White Lotus with “caustic observations,” as if the uncomfortable conversations around inequality and entitlement offset his simultaneous embrace of Hawaiian escapism.
At the same time, it’s hard to argue that The White Lotus is a bad show. Indeed, it carries all the hallmarks of prestige television, from the photography to the score to the acting. Everything is on point, and there’s plenty to champion, from the Basil-Fawlty-on-Ketamine-ness of Armand, to the two scariest girls on TV, to the glorious typecasting of Jennifer Coolidge. The problem is that it’s simply not as subversive as Mike White believes. For better and worse, White Lotus delivers exactly what it promises: an Eden-like setting, a body in the final act, a happy ending for (almost) every white character.
Without spoiling too much, the central thesis of White Lotus seems to be that, when it comes to power in a capitalist society, the only meaningful tool is money. To rely on anything else, including social capital, is folly. And maybe that’s fair. Except the failures of the show’s less prosperous characters feel like a foregone conclusion. Kai and Sophia’s best laid plans, for instance, feel poorly thought out even by TV standards. Spa manager Belinda, too, behaves in ways that seem to undermine her character’s overall savvy – buying into a dream she had been skeptical of only episodes prior.
Consider, too, that the only character to break free from their circumstances is Quinn. And yet he is the character with the most privilege, no matter what his mom might tell you. That he’s an obvious proxy for White, who wrote the show and who describes his own time in Hawaii as a perfect experience, only stands to make the situation more dubious.
But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe like Olivia Mossbacher, White Lotus and its audience are content to critique systems we have no intention of changing. To book a trip to Hawaii, knowing its land was illegally stolen. To get some rest and relaxation with the help of some hired hands. To retreat into the confines of the Pineapple suite knowing we can check out at any time – but we can never really leave.
Links
The White Lotus’ Mixes Tropical Delight With Cold Class Warfare (The Ringer)
Escaping Is Not a Form of Understanding (The Atlantic)
The White Lotus Considers White Men (Jezebel)
Aloha to the US: Is Hawai'i an occupied nation? (BBC)
The Brilliant, Biting Social Satire of “The White Lotus” (The New Yorker)
Books
In Progress
Dune by Frank Herbert
Finished
The Inconvenient Indian: A Curious Account of Native People in North America by Thomas King
The Brotherhood of the Grape by John Fante
What do you think? Am I being too hard on Ned Schneebly? Let me know in the comments, or email me at ethan@humanpursuits.org. You can also contact me via Twitter or Instagram.