Screenwriter’s Almanac: The White Lotus, and The Horror We Don’t Call Horror

On Mike White, Society's Mirror, and Our Contributions to the World Around Us

Every weekend, I sit down to write this Screenwriter’s Almanac with the same goal: to offer insight, inspiration, and a sense of purpose through examples of other works of art, entertainment, etc, to the writers out there who are still grinding, still believing, still hoping that their stories matter.

This week’s Almanac is a little different.

Because I’m angry.

In a lot of ways, I shouldn’t be. And yet in a lot of other ways, I kind of love that I am. Why would I love to be angry, you might wonder? Because art is supposed to spark emotion within us. It’s supposed to raise questions. It’s meant to be what plucks at our heartstrings, for good or bad.

But I’m angry about Season 3 of The White Lotus. Not because it’s poorly made - my god, no. It’s masterful. Mike White continues to prove that he’s one of the most perceptive and talented writers working today. His character work is so well-developed. His world-building is deceptively simple. And the tone he presents, somewhere between satire and terror, is almost impossible to replicate. He has a voice, a vision, and the incredible talent to deliver both.

But I don’t think some people are watching this show the way it’s meant to be watched. In other words, I don’t think people are FEELING what this show is meant to make them feel. And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe everyone gets its, but…I have a sinking suspicion that I’m right.

Because The White Lotus is horror.

And no one seems to be screaming or scared.

Putting a Blanket over the Social Mirror

It’s a cliche to say that great art holds up a mirror to society. It’s a cliche because it’s true, though. But when society doesn’t look a little deeper at what’s being reflected, what we see just becomes lifeless.

The White Lotus reflects entitlement, cruelty, power games, shallowness, and selfishness disguised as hope all with extreme clarity. Instead of being terrified by all of this, a lot of viewers seem to treat it as a luxury escape fantasy - an Instagram slideshow of beautiful resorts and wealthy dysfunction. I believe Mike White is doing this on purpose, of course, but I’m deeply concerned that no one is getting the point.

I want to be clear with my belief here - this is horror storytelling. There may not be ghosts or monsters, the supernatural or extreme gore, but the emotional violence is constant and in my opinion…much much worse. The casual cruelty. The hollow sex. Materialism to an extreme. The friendships forged and betrayed all with a fake smile. This is the kind of horror that doesn’t jump out at you, it STAYS with you. It lingers. It wafts and swirls around you, and it’s being presented as prestige content.

That disconnect is the problem, and what scares me the most. This is horror without the clear presentation of “this is good” and “this is evil”. Guess what I believe. In today’s world, most people are not smart enough to see the difference.

We’re not writing escapes anymore. We’re writing warnings but no one seems to be listening. As screenwriters, we don’t just tell stories. We digest the culture and society, and convert the noisiness of the world (at least our own internal world) into adventures that allow people to hopefully feel something. But I think that’s where some of the real trouble lies. Like the covered mirror metaphor, we’re not seeing what is actually being reflected back to us.

If audiences are watching a show like The White Lotus and NOT feeling horror, if they’re binging it with the same emotional detachment its characters show and put on display, then we’re facing something way more frightening than a monster under the bed or a deranged axe murderer breaking down your door.

We’re facing numbness.

We’re facing the unquestioned victory of materialism. (And don’t get me started with how the father of that effed up family was portrayed in his last moment of the last episode…I nearly threw my glass at my TV.)

And we watch it play out every Sunday on HBO, displayed as soapy entertainment.

The Point Isn’t to Judge. It’s to Wake Up.

I’m not here to say you shouldn’t enjoy a beautifully made, slow-burn series filled with incredible performances, amazing character development, and gut-punch dialogue. I’m saying that if you don’t walk away from The White Lotus with a feeling of dread, of a tightening in your chest, and thoughts of, “Something’s deeply wrong here”, then I don’t think you’re watching closely enough.

The irony for me is I understand that it’s good to be reminded of my values by seeing the stark differences in others’. But just like some people don’t want to consume films or shows in the horror or supernatural genre because of the violent visuals and the visceral experience, I don't want to associate myself with such characters who are nearly all rotten to the core.

Even worse, the one character who shined her light, unconditional love and hope and effort in every episode is one of the characters who doesn’t make it out of this ridiculous resort alive. So what kind of message is that giving me as a viewer? How am I supposed to feel when the few characters I actually could or wanted to connect with either end up dead, or twisted into showing their true colors…and they’re not pretty?

(I won’t go into who my favorite characters were because some of you may have yet to watch the show.)

And if you’re a writer?

Your job isn’t just to write about people. It’s to write about the world those people are reacting to, and the world they are shaping. Because your story doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It’s part of this societal moment. It’s either echoing the numbness or it’s breaking through it. We have a responsibility as writers to consider how we affect audiences and by proxy the world as a whole.

Mike White is doing his part in the way he feels is best suited for him. Whether I love or hate what he’s saying, he’s telling the truth. And the rest of us? We better start doing the same.

Final Thoughts: The Water’s Not Fine

There’s that famous parable about a frog being slowly boiled in water. It gives me shivers even thinking about it. The temperature rises so gradually that the frog doesn’t realize it’s in danger until it’s too late.

The White Lotus is that rising heat. It’s incredibly subtle. It’s artful and gorgeous, but it’s lethal. It’s lethal to the people who romanticize this lifestyle. I felt the same with movies like The Godfather, or shows like Succession and The Sopranos. It isn’t fun to watch those shows. I don’t enjoy it. Does this mean that I just want to live in a fantasy world of puppy dogs and ice cream, and turn my heart away from the horrors of real life.

Yes. Why wouldn’t I? Do I think it’s possible? Of course not. So what’s my point here?

We need stories that inspire, offer hope, show that good things can and do happen to good people, that empathy and understanding and vulnerability is actually what changes the world. The White Lotus won’t change the world due it holding a dark mirror in front of us. Its purpose will be lost on millions…unless we talk about it. So this is why I wanted to share my anger.

We can’t go through life unconscious and asleep, as much as I simply want to live it with puppy dogs and ice cream and boundless happiness. Movies, television, and art are and is meant to make us ask questions and check in with ourselves. Who are we? Why do I gravitate toward certain stories? Why do I love or hate a show like The White Lotus? What is going on inside of me that is creating this visceral feeling?

As screenwriters especially, if we’re not considering these things or asking these questions, or understanding what our contribution to the world is and will be, then we end up not naming the horror when we see it. We end up becoming not just frogs in a water-filled pot.

We become the ones cranking up the burner.

Thanks for reading. I’ll go an watch Sesame Street now.

—Max Timm & The Story Farm