Monday, December 12, 2022

WHITE LOTUS KNOWS HOW TO USE AN UNCONSCIOUS ASSUMPTION


The second season of WHITE LOTUS ended yesterday, to much acclaim. And for the next couple weeks I'm going through the series episode by episode, calling out some of the great scriptwriting things that it does. 

WHITE LOTUS 201, "Ciao," is a gem on many levels. Most importantly, it does a tremendous job of laying out the characters and relationships on the show. And for me what's particularly impressive are the scenes that don't seem like they're about anything: it's Harper and Will, Cameron and Daphne sipping cocktails after they arrive, or Portia and Albie at the pool. Every single line in those moments is revelatory of who those characters are: what they want, what they think, what they hate, what they don't see.

To take the latter: How does it begin? With Albie overhearing that Portia is upset and asking if she's okay. Right there that's Albie in a nutshell in the pilot--trying to take care of people. 

Portia, who we know wants to get laid, reassures him and then engages him in further conversation about his "cute grandpa." In the moment, maybe we're thinking she and Albie are going to hook up; certainly they're both trapped in bullshit from the Gen Xers around them, and they're both Americans. 

But the fact that she mentions the gGandpa also could be setting up that she's going to hook up with him. It seems so unlikely we probably don't even notice it in the moment, which would make it that much more delightful if it happens. 

(Note: I haven't seen the season yet.)

Then they do the standard "Where are you from"s, and Mike White's dialogue is just exquisite. Upon hearing that Portia is from San Francisco, Albie says "I love San Francisco, it's beautiful," which is the stereotypical thing Angelenos say when they meet someone from San Francisco, and where the meaning is usually a kind of patronizing affirmation, like I feel like I should say good things about your city to make you feel good, because it's not Los Angeles and obviously you must feel bad about that. (And she responds very true to that: "Yeah. Yeah.") 

Albie's delivery doesn't indicate that at first, but he immediately follows by trying to assert he actually knows what he's talking about, he spent a lot of time there, only to then cringe when he has to say that he went to Stanford—another sort of signal of the way he thinks. "Don't be so ashamed," she says, amused. "I'm not," he says, but clearly he is embarrassed, and when she says "I went to Chico State," he eagerly responds "Cool, cool," which it most definitely is not next to Stanford. "Yeah, cool. Cool," she says back, again amused. 

The scene goes on a bit longer with him talking about what sounds like a pretty fancy job, which he again very clearly underplays: "I'm just an intern at this point, so..." And once again she's amused: "So you can go on vacation for a week and no one gives a shit." He thinks she's serious, and maybe we do, too. But what he's saying is insane. She knows all too well what a shit job being an intern is, and you don't get to spend a week in Sicily.

Why does he keep underplaying who he is and what he's doing, and trying to boost her up? It seems pretty clear, it's because he assumes her life is not as great as his, and he's a nice guy and so he doesn't want to make her feel bad. And he doesn't know he's doing it.

If you wanted to write on WHITE LOTUS, for me this is Rule #1: Give your characters assumptions that they speak and act out of, but don't know they're making.  It's such a classic move of the show. Albie assumes Portia's life is lame and so would be bummed out to hear about his—which is really quite a thing to assume when you think about it. Cameron and Daphne assume everyone thinks life is great, like they do.

The other thing that intrigues me about the Albie/Portia moment is that she reacts to Albie's unconscious putdowns and condescension with amusement. She knows what he's saying at each point more than he does, and she's not bothered by it, because she sees pretty clearly the state of her life. It's a great scene for Portia, actually, because based on what we've already seen, and what she said to her friend on the phone, we're set up to expect her to be self-pitying. But then she's not. She's more interesting than that. It's classic sleight of hand.