First, let’s get the name-dropping out of the way. I walked up to Mike White at a museum in Los Angeles in 2003 and told him I liked his writing. He looked surprised—probably not a lot of people recognized him back then—but my compliment was sincere, and he genuinely thanked me. I’d first heard of him through my boyfriend at the time, who had a small role in Orange County, a film Mike wrote. That’s when I fell in love with his writing: light and dark humor layered over characters who felt achingly familiar, flawed, and evolving.
So when The White Lotus Season 1 premiered to critical acclaim, I wasn’t surprised. I praised this “new creator, Mike White” like everyone else, but with the quiet confidence of someone who’d been mentally best friends with him for years.
Fast forward to this past Sunday night.
I ordered Pad Thai—extra peanuts, no cilantro. I briefly considered a Thai iced tea but reminded myself I didn’t need the calories or the caffeine. I settled in for the 90-minute finale with low expectations. I knew what I was in for: unresolved subplots, questionable family boundaries (handies), and Gaitok proving spineless once again. I was prepared to be underwhelmed.
But—unpopular opinion—I thought the finale delivered. And here’s why:
The Ratliff Family Was the Real Horror Show
The Ratliff family dynamic was basically a slow-motion car crash, and I couldn’t look away. Tim (Jason Isaacs) trying to poison 4/5 of his family—and then changing his mind yelling out, "The coconut milk is off!" —was such a Mike White move: outrageous, darkly hilarious, and weirdly grounded in character logic. And Victoria? Just blissfully rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, with a detox tea in one hand and total delusion in the other.
They were awful. They were perfect.
Lochlan Met God—or Something
Lochlan’s (Sam Nivola) near-death experience gave the season one of its only quiet, haunting moments. When he told his dad he thinks he “saw God,” it wasn’t clear if he was traumatized or enlightened—or both. But it was the most profound moment of reflection we’d gotten from any of them.
Laurie’s Monologue Deserved a Standing Ovation; but WTF Ladies?
Laurie’s (Carrie Coon) monologue about not believing in religion or God but believing that time and relationships give life meaning hit hard. It was existential without being preachy, emotional without being sentimental. She delivered it like a woman who’s been hurt, haunted, and healed—all in the same lifetime. I’ll be quoting that scene in therapy and pretending I came up with it myself. And yet—WTF, Jaclyn and Kate? Not a word? They sat there frozen, like intimacy was a foreign language.
Rick Couldn’t Let Go of the Past—and It Killed Him
Rick (Walton Goggins) spent the whole season dragging his grief and vendetta around like a weighted blanket. In the end, he got what he thought he wanted: revenge. But it didn’t fix anything. It just left more people broken. His arc was a tragic loop—like watching someone try to outrun a ghost that’s already inside of them.
Piper Was a Tourist in Her Own Awakening
Piper (Sarah Catherine Hook) came looking for enlightenment but never unpacked. Her attempt at monastic life unraveled the moment it asked for discomfort. In the end, she chose a fling over freedom—proof that you can’t transcend anything you’re still clinging to. This prompts a scary question: What if we’re all too shallow for enlightenment?
Saxon Found His Soul—Kind of?
Saxon (Patrick Schwarzenegger) surprised me. He started off as just another beautiful idiot with a trust fund (you know who you are), but slowly he started asking real questions. About life. About meaning. About God. It wasn’t a full-blown redemption arc, but it was enough of a pivot to make his character feel dimensional. The fact that he—of all people—had one of the more sincere awakenings was kind of the joke. But also not.
Gaitok Was a Coward—but Also Horny
Let’s talk about Gaitok (Tayme Thapthimthong). The man was practically allergic to confrontation. But as frustrating as he was, he also felt real. Not everyone has the capacity to be brave when it counts. Sometimes people freeze, deflect, run. His indecision was maddening, but also kind of the point. We don’t all grow. Sometimes we just murder people and get the girl.
Sam Rockwell’s Character was Chaos in Cargo Shorts
I don’t even remember if his character had a name—Frank, maybe?—but Sam Rockwell did what he does best: swaggered in like a man who microdoses regret for breakfast. He was part burnout, part prophet, and fully unhinged. His monologue was wild—equal parts horrifying and hilarious. It didn’t move the plot forward, but it cracked something open.
Final Take:
The finale wasn’t perfect. But it wasn’t supposed to be. Mike White doesn’t tie things up with a bow—he ties them up with a knot and hands you the ends. It’s messy. It’s weird. It’s human.
And for 90 minutes on a Sunday night, with my Pad Thai extra peanuts, no cilantro, it kind of felt like church.