As The White Lotus closes out its third season, the hit HBO series is once again drawing attention for its glossy take on wealth, privilege and power. But behind the luxury resorts and jet-set dysfunction, critics say the show reflects a deeper truth: class divides are getting harder to ignore – and even harder to cross.

The 2025 Edelman Trust Barometer calls it a “crisis of grievance” — a surge in resentment and mistrust, particularly between socioeconomic groups. According to the report, 61 per cent of people globally now have a moderate or high sense of grievance, defined by the belief that government and business make their lives harder, serve narrow interests, and allow wealthy individuals to benefit unfairly from the system. This sense of systemic injustice, fuelled by rising inequality, is driving widespread discontent, and that crisis has a cultural echo.

Enter The White Lotus — a prestige drama where sun-kissed escapism collides with economic reality. Each season exposes the subtle and not-so-subtle ways wealth shapes relationships, mobility, and morality. The show’s appeal may lie in its glossy production and satirical tone, but its staying power arguably comes from the way it captures the unease of a world where class mobility feels increasingly out of reach.

But is The White Lotus truly challenging the class divide it so vividly portrays, or is it simply another glamorous escapist fantasy that reinforces it?

Critics are divided.

The Guardian recently noted that while the show adeptly exposes the moral decay lurking behind the wealth of its characters, it at times shifts focus towards melodrama and personal conflicts, diluting its otherwise incisive commentary on economic inequality.​

For Dr Sarah Attfield, senior lecturer at UTS and expert in class representation in media, the show’s portrayal of the wealthy reflects a broader issue in media culture.

“Mainstream media is swamped with stories of affluent people,” she says. “At risk of sounding reverse classist, I’m generally just not interested in the lives of rich people. I crave stories about working-class people – the people who I know.”

The creative industries and the media are dominated by people from middle and upper-class backgrounds. They don’t see the value or the potential drama in stories about working-class life.

Dr Attfield adds the reason rich characters dominate prestige drama isn’t just for reasons of taste — it’s about power: who gets to write the scripts, greenlight the stories, and shape what’s seen as worthy of our attention.

“The creative industries and the media are dominated by people from middle and upper-class backgrounds,” she says. “They don’t see the value or the potential drama in stories about working-class life.”

This imbalance has real-world consequences. When working-class characters do appear on screen, they’re often reduced to flat stereotypes — or simply erased altogether.

“People learn about groups outside of their direct experience through representations,” Dr Attfield warns. “If they don’t see certain groups represented, then they receive little knowledge or understanding. And if the representations are negative stereotypes, they might believe that all people in that group fit the stereotype and feel negatively towards them.”

While The White Lotus has been praised for its satirical skewering of wealthy elites, Dr Attfield questions whether audiences are growing tired of what she calls an “aspirational fantasy loop”.

“Audiences can only watch what’s on offer. If stories about working-class people were available via the mainstream platforms then more people would watch them — and they would like them because they are interesting!”

While The White Lotus may offer a satirical lens on the ultra-wealthy, its real bite comes from how it reflects a society where class mobility feels increasingly out of reach. In Australia, skyrocketing living costs, wage stagnation, and the rise of generational wealth are making it harder for young people to picture a future that’s not dictated by the bank balance they inherit.

And in that fractured reality, the stories we tell about class matter more than ever. Because when the only voices that shape our cultural narratives come from the privileged, we risk confusing their anxieties with our own. And the real danger is we might start believing them.

“Let working-class people write about their lived experiences — we are much better at it,” Dr Attfield says. “Also, we’re funnier.”

Main Image: Fabio Lovino/HBO