The White Lotus Is 21st Century Shakespeare
Source: The White Lotus
When The White Lotus premiered on HBO in 2021, audiences were drawn in by its glossy settings, wealthy characters, and biting satire. But beneath its sun-soaked resort façades lies something more enduring—something literary, even timeless. Created by Mike White, the anthology series unfolds in a way that feels less like modern television and more like the echo of something older: the high drama, sharp wit, and slow-burning tragedy of Shakespeare.
Yes, The White Lotus is 21st century Shakespeare.
At its surface, the show follows the guests and staff of a fictional luxury resort chain—first in Hawaii, then Sicily, then Thailand. Each season introduces a new cast of characters: dysfunctional families, estranged friends, romantic hopefuls, aging libertines, desperate loners. They come for pleasure and escape. They leave changed, sometimes ruined, and in a few cases—dead.
This structure of distinct yet overlapping storylines is part of what makes The White Lotus feel so theatrical. Like a Shakespeare play, the show juggles multiple plots and subplots that seem isolated at first but inevitably intersect in explosive or ironic ways. A flirtation in one corner of the resort can ripple out into betrayal in another. Class tensions simmer beside sexual power games. Every episode peels back a new layer of social posturing until someone cracks—or collapses.
And just like in Shakespearean drama, the tone of The White Lotus defies easy categorization. It’s funny—darkly, dryly, absurdly so—but always undercut by a slow, creeping dread. The humor is laced with cruelty. The luxury is dripping with rot. In every season, the audience is made aware early on that someone will die. That foreknowledge casts a tragic shadow over every petty argument, every awkward dinner, every wandering glance. We laugh, yes—but we laugh in suspense, knowing something terrible is coming.
Shakespeare mastered this tonal layering. His comedies flirt with heartbreak. His tragedies often open with comic relief. Mike White’s writing moves in similar patterns, constantly toying with the viewer’s expectations. Characters are not good or evil. They’re flawed, self-absorbed, hilarious, pitiful, and occasionally noble. They act out of desire, boredom, jealousy, pride—classic Shakespearean motivations, all played out under the tropical sun.
What makes The White Lotus feel especially Shakespearean is its universality. Shakespeare wrote for the masses—his plays entertained kings and commoners alike. The White Lotus strikes a similar cultural nerve, attracting viewers from all walks of life. It’s glossy and gossipy enough to binge, but rich with themes that invite academic dissection. Money, sex, identity, colonialism, generational trauma—it’s all there. It’s escapism with teeth.
Then there’s the episodic release. In a streaming era dominated by full-season drops, The White Lotus brings back the old-school anticipation of weekly storytelling. This is how Shakespeare was consumed—piece by piece, act by act. The one-week wait between episodes turns viewers into modern-day groundlings, speculating wildly about who’s lying, who’s doomed, and what’s really going on beneath the smiles and sunsets. Entire communities have sprung up just to analyze a character’s glance or dissect a few ambiguous lines of dialogue. Just like Shakespeare's audiences once did.
Even structurally, the show leans toward the stage. With its balanced ensemble cast and equal attention paid to each storyline, watching The White Lotus feels almost like watching live theater. No single character hogs the spotlight. The drama unfolds in well-paced beats, allowing moments of tension to bloom slowly and scenes to stretch long enough for nuance. The overlapping narratives build a kind of dramatic choreography—structured but organic, full of surprise.
In every way that matters, The White Lotus continues the legacy of the Bard. It’s bold, messy, theatrical, and unafraid to hold a mirror up to its audience. It makes you laugh while it makes you squirm. It flatters your intellect while indulging your voyeurism. And like the best of Shakespeare, it’s not really about the resort or the time period or even the mystery—it’s about people. And what they’re capable of when they think no one’s watching.
Or when they know everyone is.
