Power, class, and intellect interact to create interesting settings. As Harper Spiller, Aubrey Plaza. Picture: HBO/Fabio Lovino The magnificent, complex comedy-drama is back, and this time, sex is on the mind. With a Sicilian setting, Jennifer Coolidge delivers flawless performances with fresh talents like Aubrey Plaza People do vividly remember the turd being curled out […]
By
LNGFRM Team
Published October 26, 2022
Power, class, and intellect interact to create interesting settings. As Harper Spiller, Aubrey Plaza. Picture: HBO/Fabio Lovino
The magnificent, complex comedy-drama is back, and this time, sex is on the mind. With a Sicilian setting, Jennifer Coolidge delivers flawless performances with fresh talents like Aubrey Plaza
People do vividly remember the turd being curled out into a guest’s suitcase by a man pushed to the edge of tolerance, but they remember it as only a small part of a flawlessly executed whole, which is a testament to how good the first series of The White Lotus was in terms of writing, the blending of murder mystery and sharp satire, the performances, the direction, and the gorgeous photography even under lockdown conditions.
Mike White, the show’s originator, is back with a new group of carefully chosen overprivileged guests. Instead of Hawaii, the White Lotus hotel’s employees, including sex workers, are taking care of them this time, and White’s sharp moral eye is focused on sexual rather than racial politics. The storyline is flawless, the writing is as intricate and deep as ever, and the audience’s sympathies—or dislikes—are never permitted to stay in one place for too long. White is not one to let his audience rest, even when the characters may be there to relax.
Like the original Lotus, we begin with a dead corpse that won’t be recognized until the very end. This one passes a visitor taking her last ocean swim before her trip home. Immediately, Rocco calls the hotel manager, Valentina (Sabrina Impacciatore). She reassures everyone, “It’s okay,” as she surveys the situation. “The sea is not on hotel grounds.” He then informs her and us that further visitors have also been discovered deceased. How many?” a terrified Valentina inquires. “A few?” Rocco asks hesitantly. He will always remain a subordinate because of this.
Then, a week earlier, we go back in time to meet the brand-new residents who had just arrived at the lovely beach resort. They consist of the haughty banker Cameron (Theo James) and his charming, until to this point, unremarkable wife Daphne (Meghann Fahy). Cameron has invited his workaholic old college buddy Ethan (Will Sharpe), a nerd-made-good, and Harper (Aubrey Plaza), an abrasive employment lawyer, as their guests. There are some magnificent passages that result from the interaction of the changing dynamics between them – of power, class, intellect, and financial clout – and they are as sharply written and performed as they are sad. The first supper the four of them have, where Harper and Ethan discover that their companions don’t follow the news (“You can’t obsess”) and Daphne isn’t sure whether she voted or not, will undoubtedly be held up as a model example of how to do things in screenwriting books and workshops for all time.
Then there are the three Di Grasso family members, who are here to embrace their Sicilian ancestry and serve as a representation of the three ages of man and the penis for us. Grandfather Bert (F Murray Abraham) spends his day making harmless/embarrassing/harassing advances on every young waitress he encounters, depending on your age and point of view. Then there is Dom (Michael Imperioli from The Sopranos), whose wife and daughter have not traveled with him because they are (as is revealed in another exquisitely crafted phone conversation between him and his invisible wife) furious over the most recent of his affairs. The accommodative son, Albie (Adam DiMarco), is outraged by both his grandfather’s behavior and the thought that any lady should have to stare “at an old man’s junk.” Bert is oblivious to the problem. “As if it was ever lovely, really. It’s not a sunset; it’s a penis. Even if adaption to new sociosexual mores does not, at least some knowledge does emerge with age.
Young Portia (Haley Lu Richardson), who serves as the personal assistant to a very wealthy, somewhat horrible, sometimes tragic repeat guest to the White Lotus, is the subject of Albie’s courteous, nonpredatory, and age-appropriate attention. Yes, it is Tanya McQuoid, this time portrayed by the incomparable Jennifer Coolidge, who gives her uncontrollable anarchy and selfishness a somewhat deeper, more sincere edge. She is now married to sport fisher Greg (Jon Gries), who she fell in love with at the end of season one. Greg has developed into something of a bully, criticizing her weight and showing no interest in her needs or desires, which are admittedly probably more than one person can reasonably be expected to fulfill. Did he really marry her for her wealth, and now he’s letting it show? Or is it connected to his terminal illness—which isn’t actually mentioned in the first episode—in some way? Or is it more likely related to the person he is on the phone with and whispering to?
The scene is set for the most rich, intricate, and satisfying comedy-drama you could imagine when sex workers Mia (Beatrice Grann) and Lucia (Simona Tabasco) are added to the mix. Enjoy another luxurious five-star stay here.
On Monday, October 31, at 9 p.m., Sky Atlantic will debut the first episode of The White Lotus.
Thanks to Lucy Manganat The Guardian whose reporting provided the original basis for this story.
Frank DiBernardo handles LNGFRM's Foodie and Miscellaneous writing tasks. He's always getting ideas from users, so don't be afraid to send an email to the editor.
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