An opening scene revealing a corpse. An array of characters with a medley of quirks and accents. These tropes all expose the immaturity and childishness of the wealthy elite — hallmarks of a whodunit in the vein of Agatha Christie or the more recent “Knives Out.” They are also seen in “The White Lotus,” the Emmy-winning HBO anthology series set against the backdrop of the titular luxury resort. 

The show diverges from a classic whodunit in that it cuts to a week earlier, thrusting the story into a mystery to find not the killer, but the body. In a way, “The White Lotus” is an “anti-murder mystery,” choosing to spotlight the self-destructive journey building up to an inevitable death in the finale, all while attempting to deliver social satire and commentary. At the same time, this more pessimistic narrative forces the audience to watch and theorize with eagerness.

Each season of “The White Lotus” takes place in, and thematically centers on, a different destination. In Season 3, it’s in Thailand.

The ensemble cast functions as a menagerie of sorts, creating a glass cage through which we witness the rich hotel guests. Within the playground that is the White Lotus resort, endless dramatic possibilities exist. The hyper-wealthy characters revert to their primal state outside of their natural habitat, acting on emotional extremes while doing drugs and having loads of sex.  

Almost reveling in the unraveling of these characters, “The White Lotus” seeks to present a pointed criticism of the dynamics of class by inviting us to see the negative influences of their excessive wealth. 

The Ratliffs perfectly embody the dysfunction of the wealthy that the show fixates on. We can point and laugh at Victoria Ratliff’s (Parker Posey) out-of-touch comments on the culture of Thailand in a Southern drawl or at the hubris and hypocrisy of her daughter, Piper (Sarah Catherine Hook), who comes seeking spirituality only to crawl back to her life of material comfort. A pivotal plot point involves Tim Ratliff (Jason Isaacs), the family patriarch, embroiled in a federal investigation and contemplating a murder-suicide in a Lorazepam-induced meltdown, worried his family won’t be able to survive a non-cushy life. 

Each stay at the White Lotus has something to say about its host location. The first season’s excursion in Maui accentuates the island’s colonial history and subsequent inequalities and the next season’s retreat in Sicily undermines the romanticization of the Old World. This season focuses on spirituality, particularly within the context of Thai Buddhism, as it ribs at Western expatriates seeking to reinvent themselves or flee from their lives back home. This theme is woven and layered throughout every plotline and character in complex ways that would require further rewatches to fully digest. This go-around, “The White Lotus” lacks the poignancy that the previous seasons pulled off. 

As this season attempts to juggle its large ensemble and their respective plotlines, some receive more of the limelight while others seem to lag behind, creating a cycle of characters reiterating the same information and realizations. These narratives all lead to the explosive climax in the finale, where our corpse is finally revealed. However, the story’s emotional apex arrives less like the promised tsunami and more like a ripple. This comes largely due to the lack of investment in the characters (yes, plural) who end up dying and the rushed, messy resolution of certain plotlines.

One of the most lurid and widely-discussed scenes of the season involves an incestuous experience between brothers Saxon (Patrick Schwarzenegger) and Lochlan (Sam Nivola) Ratliff. The gratuitous provocation of this moment, seemingly engineered for X (formerly Twitter) buzz, elucidates some of the shakiness with the show’s function as a satire. 

The drawn-out narrative and underbaked themes of the outing in Thailand underscore the more superficial aspects of the show, such as the shock-value sex, designer wardrobe, and serene landscape shots that have been fixtures of the previous two seasons. “The White Lotus” is obsessed with spectacle in a way that becomes a disservice to any pointed criticism it attempts to make about class. The prioritization of aesthetics and pageantry feels more akin to reality TV like “Love Island” than a takedown of high-class attitudes à la “Triangle of Sadness.” 

What muddles the cultural critique of “The White Lotus” even further is the commercialization riding upon the show’s success. It’s hard to see the resort as a critique of the upper class when its indictment doubles as an aspirational fantasy. On Max’s ad-supported tier, Patrick Schwarzenegger appears before every episode, marketing vodka and gin “for when you want to escape to the White Lotus.” And with the Four Seasons viewing its partnership with the show as an extremely profitable marketing opportunity, it is hard not to see the show as an endorsement of the uber-wealthy lifestyle rather than a critique. 

At the end of the season, all of the guests depart on the boat that initially brought them to the resort. They reflect on the events of their week-long stay that have ostensibly changed them. But these almost always barely make a dent in the status quo. While they meditate on their privilege, guilt, or suffering, in the end, their social standing and the machinations that have contributed to their immense wealth remain largely intact. 

In sum, Season 3 of “The White Lotus” delivers sharp-tongued observational critiques on rich behavior but fails to fully reckon — and probably never will — with the systems that allow such excess to thrive. When a body is discovered at a resort, “The White Lotus” isn’t interested in exploring why, but instead in gabbing over the grisly details of how.