I'm a little behind the curve, but like a lot of viewers I and my husband recently found ourselves ensnared by the second season of White Lotus.
 
Like the first season this one has an odd sticking power. I find myself thinking about episodes long after I watched them. Judging by its recent nominations and awards at the Golden Globes, the raft of giddy articles about the show, not to mention the rampant memes about that freaky ululating theme song, we're not alone in our fascination.
 
Regular readers know that I frequently proselytize analyzing what you are reading and watching to figure out what makes a story work—or not—as the single best way you can improve your own storytelling skills. White Lotus is especially intriguing to me on this level, because if I dissect the component parts it initially doesn't seem as if the story should be as effective and compelling as it is.
 
Learn more: Join my “Analyze Like an Editor Story Club” (Our next session is coming up Feb. 8.)
 
Take the characters, for instance. Clichés and stereotypes abound, from the rich playboy tech bro to the nerdy beta tech bro, the clueless rich heiress and her much-put-upon assistant who seems to do nothing but be at her beck and call, the womanizing Hollywood film producer and his un-PC father and hyperwoke son. The hooker with the heart of gold. The opportunistic hooker. The driven man-hating career woman. The washed-up lounge singer. The rich machinating wife and the cynical mistrustful one.
 
Plot devices are familiar too—the struggling marriages, squabbling families, midlife crises, clandestine affairs and jealousies. Stakes are objectively fairly low and pedestrian. There's not a lot of new story ground being broken here.
 
And yet…
 

Why the Hell Is This Show So Fascinating?

 
Dig a little deeper and you start to see why this story is so compelling for so many.
 
Let's start with character, since I believe it's the soul of story. Yes, these characters may be stereotypes, but they are also archetypes, a nifty little shortcut for engaging readers’ attention and interest, so creator Mike White can leap right into the story without wasting any of his limited seven episodes on complex character building.
 
And archetypes become archetypes for a reason: They are recognizable and compelling. Precisely because we have seen the arrogant tech bro brought down in other stories, we are primed for investing in his downfall in this one, for instance. On top of that is the meta-archetype that almost all these people are privileged and wealthy. Their problems are so first-world, largely products of their unexamined entitlement—another instantly familiar characterization.
 
Which also suggests another reason these somewhat one-dimensional characters are nonetheless so fascinating: Most of them are pretty damned rotten and we can't wait to see them get their comeuppance. Whether we do or not is up in the air for most of the season, but judging by last season we might expect most won't. And yet we stay invested. Why?
 
That boils down to strong conflict and tension. White has layered it in thickly. There is no smooth sailing in this story. Take just one of the storylines, the two couples at the resort together. There's friction between the two couples, who are very different in ways neither appreciates. There’s conflict within each couple—both endemic to their individual marriages and as a result of interactions with the other couple. There is tension across the couples between opposite-sex spouses, both sexual and personal. There's tension between both men, with macho positioning, secret agendas, and buried resentments. And there’s tension between the women, who see life and their marriages vastly differently.
 
Every storyline is like this, rife with layers of tension and conflict among characters who are all deeply flawed. The plot may not unfold with cataclysmic tidal waves of action, but there's a steady, uneasy chop on the water that promises a tsunami to come—one, in fact, that was teased in in the opening episode, with a dead body we learn is just one of many recent corpses. That sets the hook of an overarching story question: Who died, and why and how? One that takes on even more resonance as we become invested in the individual players. 
 
Screenwriter White uses that tension to layer in suspense. We don’t know what’s going to happen from one moment to the next, the characters not telegraphing intentions with a wink-wink to the audience as they do in so many shows where we wonder why the other characters aren’t picking up on clearly fishy behavior, and viewers are in the same position as the other characters: uncertain what anyone will do, how they will react, or what the fallout may be. The final episode is especially rife with suspense as events catapult toward a catastrophic climax we sense but can’t quite predict. We’re full of questions throughout the show, suspense’s greatest tool.
 
Even though stakes are objectively low, they are not to the individual players. The hotel manager’s job and her role in maintaining the resort’s standards is of utmost importance to her. The escort who dreams of a singing career may just want to take over as the hotel lounge act, but to her it provides deep validation and a long-dreamed-of realization of a cherished dream. 
 
Pace is overall slow—but momentum is strong: Although the show may slowly unwind like an orange peel cut away in one continuous curl, the knife never stops moving, gradually but steadily revealing the flesh inside—and pushing us along an ever-building story arc.
 
And all that doesn't even factor in the powerful appeal of setting: the gorgeous scenery, the excess and luxury, the vicarious thrill of it all.
 
Finally there are the gloriously galvanizing themes: sex and sexism. By introducing and building an incendiary topic, the writers take another powerful shortcut to engaging reader emotion and investment. Chances are most viewers have strong opinions and strong reactions to these topics, and the story gives you plenty to feel hot under the collar about.
 
I talk a lot about the profound benefit analyzing other people's stories has for your own writing and storytelling. The more you can make it a habit to break down what you're reading and watching this way to analyze what specifically creates a story’s effect on you—positive, negative, or indifferent—the more skillfully you can employ successful techniques in your own writing, and learn to identify and avoid ineffective ones.
 
Learn more about how to analyze story in my online course “How to Train Your Editor Brain”
 
Bring it on, kids—I want to know if you watched or are watching, what you think, and why White Lotus is snaring you—or not. Drop your thoughts in the comments—and bonus points for suggesting other shows/movies with magnetic story appeal!

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