‘The White Lotus’ is the Rare HBO Show to Embrace the Anxiety of Sex and Nudity

HBO’s newest limited series The White Lotus is a strange blend of satire and dread. We know from the opening scene that someone visiting the beautiful luxury resort, The White Lotus, is going to die during the week. That dark knowledge shadows every character’s actions, from the catty behavior of mean teens Olivia (Sydney Sweeney) and Paula (Brittany O’Grady) to the clearly doomed romance of mismatched newlyweds Shane (Jake Lacy) and Rachel (Alexandra Daddario).

Case in point: when The White Lotus’s premiere finally takes us to the honeymooners’ love nest, it’s far more creepy than sexy. The White Lotus Episode 1 “Arrivals” ends with a cringe-inducing sex scene that’s designed to make the viewer feel like a peeping tom. Director Mike White uses camera angles to up the ante on the scene’s tension and composer Cristobal Tapia de Veer’s score uses percussive beats to ratchet up the anxiety.

While most HBO and HBO Max shows use sex as a fun or devastating storytelling device, The White Lotus steers well away from titillation and embraces full-on shame. Earlier in the premiere, Steve Zahn’s character Mark complains about his bloated testicles to his wife Nicole (Connie Britton). Instead of treating it delicately, White’s camera cuts to a darkly hilarious bit of full frontal male nudity. The point? Nudity isn’t going to be deployed in The White Lotus to be sexy, but emblematic of our deepest anxieties. Mark, in this case, is convinced he has testicular cancer, and we have to see why.

So it is that when we finally follow the show’s gorgeous, young newlyweds to their “honeymoon suite,” anxiety, dread, and even jealousy is on the lovers’ minds. As soon as they arrive in their suite, Shane is upset that their lavish room isn’t the official honeymoon suite, that his wealthy mother paid for. He is so distracted by this small affront that he fixates on hounding hotel manager Armond (Murray Bartlett) about the discrepancy over making love to his beautiful new bride. When Rachel finally does come to him, in a classic black lace negligée, he chuckles at her old school naiveté.

Rachel then fearfully tells Shane that she hopes their marriage is always as it is right now. She wants to stay young and in love forever, and not age into a “depressing” marriage full of “baggage, resentment, and regrets.” Shane holds her and promises it will always be as it is. The problem is that it’s obvious that they aren’t madly in love. If they were, they would be gleefully attached to one another, oblivious to the specs of the room or the stares of other hotel guests.

When the two finally do start having sex, the camera leaves the room and perches right outside the window. White keeps the lens still for a beat too long as we watch two people almost mechanically fall into the rhythms of sex. There’s fear in their body language and reluctance. That, coupled with the voyeuristic nature of the shot, makes this sex scene feel less like a sex scene and more like the moment in a horror film when the heroine walks into the slasher’s trap.

The White Lotus understands that many of our anxieties are tied up in how we think others perceive us — and as we wish to be perceived. Shane complains that he thinks someone’s watching them in their room, and it’s true. We, the viewer, are. But on a larger scale, the show opens with teens Paula and Olivia judging everyone on first impressions. We write stories for strangers just by watching them. The White Lotus is forcing us to confront our roles as voyeurs and the emotional violence we inflict on each other.

Where to stream The White Lotus