....because only wealthy White Lives Matter

Prestige TV like White Lotus, The Crown and Succession humanize and normalize empire, power, wealth, whiteness and racism while creating the illusion that they are "exposing" those very issues.

If I say “lorazepam” and “pie-pah, noh,” and you have no idea what I’m referring to then I need to know how you achieved this miraculous feat. Over 6 million viewers tuned in to watch the season finale of White Lotus last week. Set in Thailand for its third season and featuring the usual coterie of American resort goers who are wealthy, white, racist and puerile, the series delivered one of its most boring seasons though millions will beg to differ. Middle-aged white men pondered their lives in long sequences as the waves moodily burst onto the shores. Middle-aged white women struggled to connect with their friends and families as monkeys chattered on trees, and waves moodily burst onto the shores. The younger crowed partied, did some drugs, indulged in occasional incest, and ran around spouting vague spiritual wisdom, and waves moodily burst onto the shores. There were a couple of Black Americans and some Thai characters thrown in for diversity but they inspired no emotional investment in the viewer nor were they integral to the promotion blitz that had everyone giggling away to “pie-pah, noh.”

To say that White Lotus turns an aggressive and toxic type of whiteness into something cool is an understatement. Fans and critics insist that the show is not white and racist but that it exposes whiteness and racism. That this is a “woke” and “honest” rendering of what white people are really like, how they behave in non-white places and how they treat non-white and foreign people. I’m here to tell you that issues of representation, especially in popular culture, do not work like that.

The first White Lotus season set in Hawaii depicted a world in which the Hawaiian, Black and queer characters had no agency at all and were rendered helpless at the whims of rich white folks as the story developed. It was so triggering that a friend called me shocked asking why so many people were recommending such a racist show to her. The second season was set in Sicily and the pacing of the plot was much better. Thankfully, it featured a practically all white cast, so stakes around representation issues were low. The third season was similar to the first season in that it replicated many of the typical elements of colonial storytelling where an enigmatic and opaque East becomes a foil upon which the white Westerner’s issues, emotional turmoils and psychological dramas can be projected. This genre has a long history: Think of every English heroine in a colonial novel or TV show set in the heat and dust of India.

English language TV coming out of North America and the UK has always been unabashedly white. Complaints have been piling up for years about the general lack of diversity, relentless stereotyping or tokenist nods to diversity by creating convoluted secondary storylines for non-white or queer characters. These practices continue shamelessly, but these days, there's a whole new genre of white TV in town. A lot of shows may fit this category, but I want to point fingers at three tremendously successful “prestige TV dramas,” usually defined as well written, and with high budgets and high production quality: The Crown, Succession and White Lotus. These multi-season dramas are often described with the hyperbolic praise, such as “greatest show ever” or “brilliant television.” Add to that the stack of awards for everything from writing to directing to performances.

The audience of prestige TV is usually educated, politically liberal, and invested in watching something that is more than “mindless” entertainment. There is a desire to do the work of a detective: to wade through layers of plot and understand psychological layers of the characters. These informed viewers are often eager for secondhand learning about history, economics, politics and society through such shows.

Series such as The Crown, Succession and White Lotus offer an inside glimpse into a gilded world that is unavailable to its likely middle-class audiences. Extremely plot driven, getting an audience to be sucked into a story is the first goal of the team of writers. Generating an aesthetic pleasure in wealth (no poverty porn here!) is crucial whether its posh resorts in White Lotus, the repetitive scenes of monogrammed cutlery and velvet upholstery in The Crown or the profusion of private jets, helicopters and limos that are integral to Succession. The glut of the storytelling and the sheer thrill of the luxurious aesthetics drives us to click on “next episode” like a sentimental drunk who hogs the jukebox at a bar putting coin after coin in the slot. We are hooked.

Being hooked to prestige dramas is very different from the crude impulses of binge-watching. Being hooked to prestige dramas is almost prestigious in itself. The viewer is being coached in British history, understanding how American millionaires actually destroy the world, and learning tidbits about Hawaii, Sicily or Thailand. Not only are the senses heightened, there is an intellectual reward, especially for those who believe they are history, politics, fashion or travel buffs. But what might 30 to 40 hours of watching shows about violent empire-mongers, billionaire power-brokers and spoiled rich Americans really do to our minds and, more importantly, our politics?

The Crown showed us how irrational and poorly behaved the monarchy is, but in the end, we are left with the sense of empathy that these monarchs are trapped in these roles, that they have missed out on normalcy, that they are locked away from time itself, and that they are simply human. Peter Morgan, creator of The Crown, loves this dynasty and this queen so much that I even found myself questioning the story of Diana’s treatment. More importantly, it paints a portrait of the monarchy that is so extraordinarily sympathetic that we forget that they have so much blood on their hands. That they own over 6 billion acres of land worldwide. What we learn from The Crown is that being this rich and this powerful will not bring us happiness or love. Alas, we say, heavy indeed is the head that holds the crown.

Watching Succession is very much like watching a train wreck as unutterably rich, greedy, foul-mouthed, spineless nepo babies attempt to outsmart each other for more money. Yet, who didn’t feel some heart tugs for Kendall Roy’s struggle with addiction, or feel sympathy for Shiv Roy caught in a web of patriarchal deceit, or wished that Roman Roy would stop needing his father’s validation, or hoped that Connor Roy would stop embarrassing himself. Then there is the great Logan Roy himself - commanding, brilliant and always ahead of his snivelling children. Once again, we tell our moral selves that being rich and powerful will not bring happiness or love.

After six seasons and around 60 hours of The Crown, and four seasons and around 40 hours of Succession, monarchy, empire, billionaire lifestyles and conservative politics have been humanized and normalized for you. Apply the same logic to White Lotus and the mega-billion dollar tourism industry. We have entered the abyss of a zillion TikToks with people mouthing actress Parker Posey’s viral line: “I just don't think at this age I'm meant to live an uncomfortable life.” Indulging in a wealthy woman’s ownership over her spoiled life and feeling relieved that Piper may not spend a year at the Buddhist monastery is a far cry from feeling alienated or repulsed by racist white people. Let’s be real: no exposés or learning ensued here.

Viewers coming out of these emotionally beguiling and sympathy-generating TV journeys are not likely to boycott the monarchy or resorts or war, or be less likely to vote for Trump. Culture, entertainment and pop culture shapes our hearts and minds, and has a direct relation to what we choose to eat and wear, but also impacts our views on race relations, love, sexuality, gender, and politics. No, these shows do not expose what is wrong with the world, they help us normalize, humanize and accept the villains who commit the wrongs.

Look at our world today. Tell me I’m wrong.
-Bhakti Shringarpure