The pandemic changed collective interests, mindsets, and daily habits. By effect, entertainment struggled to keep up with the tumultuous attitudes emerging; no doubt the creators behind the screen were just as thrown as their consumers. The difference, their audience took note of, was the ability wealthy one-percenters had to shelter in place or afford test-trial medication that saved lives. The difference was suddenly loud and clear, not to mention deadly.

The Kardashians, who have made a long career in flaunting their excess wealth, began to receive criticism. No one wanted to see the extravagant birthday or holiday parties, they became a reminder that the public had put their interests in the wrong basket. Several out-of-touch comments strengthened the foundation of general disgust—several celebrities posting emotional pandemic videos from their mansions, Vanessa Hudgens’s callous disregard for human life because Coachella was canceled, Justin Bieber and Kendall Jenner’s patronizing Instagram live recognizing their privilege but not accepting the responsibility that comes with it. The list could go on; quarantine was a period in which celebrity publicists apparently took their vacation time.

Quarantine produced a public distaste for excess wealth and those hoarding it, to the point disgust became the overriding attitude toward the wealthy upper class. The entertainment industry took note and churned out various shows to reflect this attitude, namely The White Lotus and, more recently, the fourth season of You. The two shows are hugely popular, their popularity due in part to the public’s post-pandemic outlook.

While kudos are in order to the projects’ creative minds for recognizing societal trends and seeing a gap in the market, a look behind the scenes leads one to wonder if these shows are reflective of the public or exploitative.

The White Lotus

Olivia Mossbacher
Netflix

The HBO Max original series is set at a fictional luxury resort that hosts upper-class guests. The plot exists within the murder-mystery genre, with caricature versions of the wealthy interacting around the series' crux—a murder. The White Lotus has been applauded for its commentary on wealth and the people who wield it, as the show has made a habit of drawing parallels between the resort staff and its guests.

Related: Every Time the Women of The White Lotus Served

The first season is set in Hawaii, where the wealthy white Mossbacher family regularly argues over the ethics of the resort relative to the local economy. Their college-age daughter, Olivia (Sydney Sweeney) critiques the hotel, but her complaints are often shut down by her parents’ dismissive and ill-informed rebuttal. Though a lot of what Olivia says concerning the resort industry in Hawaii is true, the character herself is questionable. As the season goes on, it becomes clear that the Mossbacher parents hold conservative beliefs, aligning themselves with social movements that benefit only themselves, as is revealed through Rachel’s (Alexandra Daddario) introduction to Nicole Mossbacher (Connie Britton) where Nicole’s exploitation of the "Me Too" movement is mentioned. It’s difficult for the viewer to get the same handle on Olivia; it’s unclear whether her critiques are a plea for attention from her conservative parents, a show of liberalism for her friend who has tagged along on the vacation, or a short-lived phase following her college education. What is clear—Olivia’s criticism is hypocritical and disingenuous.

The White Lotus is murder-mystery done right, with social elements that apply to contemporary issues. The plot lines are complex and artistically drawn, the acting is well-done, the humor is timed appropriately and hits the mark, and the characters, though caricatured in murder-mystery fashion, are believable. These elements working in tandem with the public’s general distaste for the upper class spelled an outrageously popular show. However, with a creator whose net worth is in the multi-millions and a cast whose net worth starts around one million, questions begin to form.

You Season 4

You Season 4 Cast
Netflix

These questions carry over to the fourth season of You. The series antagonist Joe Goldberg (Penn Badgley) navigates a brand-new drama with a brand-new set of characters. The latest season has Nigerian princesses, aristocrats, socialites, oh, and a psychopathic killer on the loose. As Joe infiltrates his new friend group, members start to drop and he begins to receive messages from the murderer the fictional universe’s news outlets have coined the “Eat the Rich Killer.”

In typical Goldberg fashion, Joe takes it upon himself to investigate the group to save them from themselves. Through his digging, he uncovers disturbing information about those he’s surrounded by. Roald (Ben Wiggins) may have killed his relative, and Gemma (Eve Austin) is a borderline sociopathic classist.

Joe sits in ironic judgment of his peers as an off-kilter reflection of the general public’s notions surrounding the wealthy. That is until he finds a silver lining in Rhys (Ed Speleers) who only recently came into wealth through his memoir detailing his impoverished, traumatic upbringing. Joe immediately finds a kinship with the fellow observer—Rhys is calm, intelligent, and insightful whereas the rest of the characters are excitable, ignorant, and superficial. This kinship is dissolved in the last episode of the season in which it’s revealed Rhys is the killer.

Related: You Season 4: How Joe Has Improved Since His Move to London

The reveal is so quick that it handicaps the perfectly strung tension, jilting its build to a proper head. Rhys falls from flawless to villainous in a matter of seconds, and the tension is immediately dismissed. Although the adult children of the established European upper class aren’t shown in an appealing light, does it remain odd that the series’ killers were both born into poverty? Yes, it does especially considering the multi-millions behind the production.

A perspective is demanded where You and The White Lotus are concerned, and it’s a perspective that marks the difference between exploitation, commentary, or self-satirization.