[ad_1]
If social media consciousness tells us anything, “The White Lotus” may inspire a trend for all-inclusive resort bookings, to hell with pandemic lockdowns. Each new episode brings a flurry of tweets expressing a burning desire for a beach vacation and mixed cocktails, which I can only attribute to the assumption that people are watching the show with their TVs muted.
If they come to this conclusion after listening to the guests at the resort talk about their own importance, it is unsettling. No sunset is beautiful enough to make me start demented debates from other guests over privilege or loudly bemoan how tough white men are. No beach has sand silky enough to risk crisscrossing bands of solipsists determined to behave like boors because the sea erases all the consequences.
But then that perspective is colored by my absolute empathy for Belinda, the manager of the spa, and the only character I am invested in. In a tragicomedy that pits guests against our patience and the irresponsible hotel manager Armond (Murray Bartlett), whose sanity crumbles before our eyes, Belinda is a woman caught in a nightmare that looks a lot like a dream.
It’s the lot of all White Lotus employees, but Belinda is worse than most. Where others serve food, clean up messes, or guide guests from attraction to attraction, Belinda’s job is to soothe and comfort the injured and needy.
That Belinda is played by comedic actor Natasha Rothwell, who gives “Insecure” some of her best moments, only makes me more inclined to be on her side. Kelli, Belinda and Rothwell’s “Insecure” party girl, is night and day in terms of temperament; Knowing them both hurts my soul even more for Belinda.
That’s because Kelli is everything Belinda can’t be: free with her opinions, incapable and unwilling to tolerate bad behavior, and gloriously all about herself. Belinda’s job keeps her from being less than accommodating.
Her smile is warm, and only if you know everything she’s going through will you notice the weight of exhaustion pulling her corner, the desperate gleam in her eyes that silently cry out for help or help. relief. If her schedule is full, as is when introduced to vampiric Tanya McQuoid (Jennifer Coolidge), she needs to cut back on her free time in the name of satisfying this all-important guest.
Tanya’s ingrained grief makes this impossible. Even more sinister, however, is her magical thought that hooks Belinda up with flattery and the false hope of funding her own spa. Ever since Belinda first treats Tanya in both a head massage and a counseling session, she’s doomed.
Ditching that carrot, Tanya takes Belinda hostage, forcing her to sacrifice her personal life to be this woman’s friend – for the sake of forging a partnership, perhaps, but probably just for the week.
It’s absolutely depressing to watch, especially at a time when so many people in the service industry are hailed as heroes but treated like servants. Belinda has the added burden of being a black woman and a healer, working in a place where guests are encouraged to let go of their worries and be assured that it is the workers’ pleasure to pick up their trash. For Tanya, Belinda might as well be her psychological doorman, except that no amount of tips can make up for the load the guest makes the spa managers carry. . . and probably for nothing.
In Brenda, I see all the underrated restaurant waiters, flight attendants and, yes, massage therapists. All of these workers’ livelihoods have suffered a crippling blow during the pandemic lockdown. Now that the customers have returned, their patience and good manners are gone. Instead, people cast their pent-up anxieties on people who try to alleviate them, even in the smallest way possible.
I want to send Belinda on vacation, but where? Another heavenly place would remind her of the hell she goes to every day. I want her to enjoy a month of nap and peace, but how? The reason she puts up with Tanya is that she sees her as a chance to escape. Tanya exudes the kind of instability and instability that tells a sane person that salvation will not come from them.
The White Lotus Hotel is absolutely gorgeous and exclusive enough that spending time with its worst people is inevitable. On the flip side, that’s part of the show’s appeal. Along with figuring out who is in the coffin teased in the show’s opening scene and how that person gets there, we can go on vacation with these guests from Hell at a safe distance.
We can experience vicariously what it would be like to leave behind all the constraints of daily life, including the obligation to observe social graces and to treat others with consideration. Looking at the show from this perspective, I guess I can understand why Mike White’s characters send people to travel sites looking for flight and hotel packages.
We’re all dying to go on vacation, especially those of us who haven’t been much further from home than the grocery store or a few walks around the neighborhood in the past year and a half. We all want someone else to carry our troubles for a while. So if you succumb to the influence of “White Lotus”, bon voyage I guess. My only request is if you come across a version of Belinda, be courteous and grateful and tip her well. It won’t be enough to make up for what she has to put up with, but at least it’s something.
New episodes of “The White Lotus” premiere Sunday at 9 p.m. on HBO.
[ad_2]
Source link