The favorite exploration of wealth, privilege, and moral decay—set against the backdrop of rich people vacationing in luxury and making you both hate them and want a trip like theirs—is back. Season 3 of The White Lotus once again delivers larger-than-life characters, iconic lines, awkward situations, gratuitous nudity (it is HBO, after all), and the show’s classic hook: who dies this time?
A first question most people will have is: how does it work without Tanya (Jennifer Coolidge), who was easily the highlight of the first two seasons? Turns out, Mike White’s decision to move on from her was actually the right call. Her absence is never really felt, and thankfully, there’s no awkward attempt to replace her. No one takes her crown as the best The White Lotus character, but the ensemble is strong across the board—probably the most evenly balanced cast the show has had so far—and it proves the series can move forward without her.
Now set in Thailand, this is probably the show’s most interesting location yet. There’s great use of Eastern philosophy and culture throughout, and the scenes set in a Buddhist temple are treated with respect. And while the Thai characters aren’t given quite as much narrative focus as the workers from past seasons, they’re never presented as inferior or pushed to the sidelines in a cartoonish way.
That said, this season does lean way less on the locals and staff. Gaitok, the security guard, gets most of that screen time, but it’s easily the least engaging storyline and gets more attention than it earns. Much more memorable is Christian Friedel as Fabian, a hotel manager who really just wants to sing. He’s used in small doses and hits the right note every time.
With the staff mostly pushed to the background, there’s also less thematic weight this time around. Most of it is carried by Belinda’s (Natasha Rothwell) return, which does bring some closure to her arc from Season 1. Outside of that, the show still keeps the rich appropriately gross, but it’s not really breaking new ground—it mostly repeats what we’ve seen before. Luckily, it still does that really well.
Parker Posey is the season’s MVP as Victoria Ratliff. Between confusing Thailand with “Taiwan,” saying she wants to be around “decent people,” and eventually claiming, “the least we can do is enjoy all that we were given,” she nails that perfect mix of delusion and entitlement. Her voice, delivery, and presence are unforgettable. Aimee Lou Wood is also fantastic as Chelsea, a free-spirited young woman from Manchester who “doesn’t judge.” She lights up every scene she’s in and somehow makes even her character’s more questionable choices feel lovable and endearing.
The rest of the guests all have arcs that work well enough—three lifelong friends caught in a web of jealousy, a rich father on the verge of losing everything, and a man on a slow-burning revenge trip. Even when the story feels like it’s spinning its wheels, the characters stay fun to watch, and the performances are strong. That said, the season probably could’ve been trimmed by an episode. By the time you hit episodes six and seven, it starts to feel like not much has actually happened.
Like Season 1, the ending is a bit underwhelming. It’s a season that thrives on buildup, making for a great weekly watch, but by the time it wraps, there’s a bit of a hollow feeling. Isaac’s storyline, in particular, could’ve used a stronger payoff, and it gets bogged down in repetitive visions. A few other arcs—like Lochlan’s people-pleasing or the three friends’ drama—get resolved a little too neatly. Sam Rockwell shows up in what seems like a quick cameo but sticks around longer, and while he’s always a welcome presence, the character doesn’t bring much. Honestly, if his role had been limited to his standout moment, he might’ve ended up being way more iconic.
One misstep this season makes is ditching the now-iconic theme song that helped define The White Lotus vibe. You can actually hear what the Season 3 version would have been on the composer’s YouTube channel (you’re welcome). Its removal reportedly led to the composer stepping away from the show entirely. The show’s eerie, strange score still adds a lot, so it’ll be interesting—and a bit worrying—to see what happens with that in Season 4.
Mike White is still great at crafting scenes that are funny, uncomfortable, and meme-worthy, even if they don’t always add up to something bigger. It’s not as cohesive or rich as Season 2, but it feels tighter than Season 1. So in terms of overall impact, it lands somewhere in between. The show hasn’t become formulaic yet, but it’s definitely close. For Season 4, White might need to dig deeper or find a new angle, because there’s only so much shallow-rich-people chaos we can wring out before it starts to feel like the same vacation over and over.