HUNGRY GHOSTS

Having barely recovered from the Shakespearean tragedy of Gennaro and Ciro over five seasons of Gomorrah, I wasn’t sure I was ready to fall into another series quite so soon. But since February is the last of the hibernation months, and it’s been over a year since the last season of The White Lotus, it took no effort at all to return to Mike White’s creation. Also, given that each episode is released weekly, the experience will be cruelly staggered anyway—so there’s no opportunity to binge.

As a 'failed screenwriter,' it's impossible not to be impressed by the sheer confidence of Mike White's The White Lotus anthology series, now in its third iteration and continuing to offer compelling luxury television viewing with its unique vibe. Of course, I’m only one episode in, but it's instantly tantalising in its setup, where East meets West at a luxury resort in Thailand. The themes of Western materialism and vacuous spiritual tourism are immediately apparent, and the scenes already seem to practically write themselves—in a good way.

After the sublime Season 2 set in Sicily, I suspected that the show would move East, and watching episode one confirmed my instincts about why it would work so well for TWL—not to mention that the lotus itself is a symbol of Buddhism, the national religion of Thailand, and represents spiritual growth on the path to enlightenment. I'm not sure exactly how enlightened we are, three seasons into Mike White's vision of Western confusion and hedonism, but we can certainly glimpse the endless cycle of suffering in samsara through the many interpersonal conflicts that propel the unfolding drama.

One of the things I especially love about the show is its loose concept, where a new group of characters assembles at a different White Lotus location each season. This structure affords White, his writers and production team the opportunity to wipe the slate clean each time—karmically and geographically—with perhaps only a trace element of continuity through the use of a recurring character from a previous season, though not wholly dependent on this conceit.

There's already a tense, oppressive feel to this latest season, where characters appear semi-imprisoned within the jungle-like atmosphere of the Thai White Lotus resort. Timothy Ratliff (Jason Isaacs) seems genuinely aggrieved at the suggestion of handing over his mobile phone by Pam (Morgana O'Reilly), one of the hotel workers, and ‘being present.’ The notion of characters checking in not just their literal baggage but their metaphorical baggage—their karma—seems apt for this new season, where causes (both short- and long-term) will no doubt create demonstrative effects for each character, whether they are searching for something new or running away from something past.

Many moons ago, I worked on a film project called Love Motel, where a similarly international cast of characters assembles at a single destination in Tokyo, Japan, as their separate lives become connected through the ancient curse of a building. Watching TWL, I couldn't help but be reminded of that project, which I had once pitched as Stanley Kubrick's The Shining meets Jim Jarmusch meets Obayashi's 1977 film House.

It was certainly fun to bounce one set of characters off another in their separate rooms, knowing that ultimately, all their fates would be decided by something bigger than their own individual fate. Dharma. There was a lot of fun to be had in mixing East and West, especially when you contrast one culture—spiritually starved—with another that is spiritually rich.

Not as sophisticated as Mike White's The White Lotus, perhaps, but still, I can't help thinking what might have been if we had gotten Love Motel across the line into production.

I might be chilling at a White Lotus resort, sipping martinis by the pool.

Then again, would I want to risk it?