would you rather be right or happy?
on Carrie Coon’s The White Lotus monologue and letting characters be characters
*this contains spoilers for The White Lotus Season 3
In the final episode of The White Lotus Season 3 (Don’t worry, I’m already tired of Takes about it so this is not necessarily what this essay is about), Carrie Coon delivers a monster dialogue as Laurie, a disappointed lawyer-divorcee. Speaking to her picture-perfect childhood friends Jaclyn and Kate, Laurie tearfully says the following:
“Thats funny ‘cause if I’m being honest, all week I’ve been so sad. I just feel like my expectations were too high, or… I just feel like as you get older, you have to justify your life, you know? And your choices.
And… when I’m with you guys, it’s just so, like… like, transparent what my choices were, and my mistakes. I have no belief system. And I… Well, I mean I’ve had a lot of them, but… I mean, work was my religion for forever, but I defiantly lost my belief there. And then— And then I tried love, and that was just a painful religion, just made everything worse. And then, even for me, just, like, being a mother, that didn’t save me either. But I had this epiphany today. I don’t need religion or God to give my life meaning because time gives it meaning.
We… we started this life together. I mean, we’re going through it apart, but we’re still together, and I… I look at you guys, and it feels meaningful. And I can’t explain it, but even when we’re just sitting around the pool talking about whatever inane shit, it still feels very fucking deep.
I’m glad you have a beautiful face. And I’m glad that you have a beautiful life. And I’m just happy to be at the table. I love you.”
Whether or not, on a wider story level, this monologue is completely earned is up for debate, but Kenny and I were definitely crying while watching it. I found the sentiment – and the ambiguous and even contradictory layers of forgiveness, regret and acceptance within it – so effective and moving. I also just really love Carrie Coon.
I’ve seen some people pushing back against it though, disappointed that Laurie chooses acceptance and forgiveness (or in a different read: fakeness) when she technically has the right to be angry and bitter. For context, Jaclyn and Kate had both been acting selfish and fake, respectively, up until this point in the story. I think among some viewers, there is an appetite for righteous bloodshed; in these fans’ fantasies, Laurie, who is our POV character, rips Jaclyn a new one and extracts herself from this toxic triangular dynamic. Jaclyn maybe agrees with her indictment and feels bad about herself. Okay. And then what?
This reminded me of how I feel sometimes when watching Couples Therapy on Showtime, a documentary series featuring real couples and their therapy sessions. Watching the show and reading what other viewers have to say about it on Reddit is an interesting exercise, because viewers are inherently interested and invested in deciding who in the relationship is at fault, in judging both parties as right or wrong. And on certain issues, it often does appear that there is a party clearly in the right or wrong. Despite this, the therapist doesn’t often diagnose this outright or demand accountability from the “guilty” party though; sometimes she instead leans in and challenges the person who seems more receptive to the therapy. The truth is that the interest of the couples, which is to move the relationship in the healthiest direction, is at odds with the viewers’ interest, which is to see some dramatically satisfying enactment of justice.
But sometimes people value getting along more than they value feeling vindicated. I can recognize this as true in my life. There have been times within conflict when I thought I was so right and justified and that the other party was so unreasonable and wrong. I said as much and then felt regretful and dissatisfied. After a person is vindicated, they must face the essential question: okay, now what?
When I was at church camp as a teenager, a woman, while speaking a prophetic word over me (this is pretty intense and happens more often than a person not raised evangelical might expect) remarked upon my “strong sense of justice.” I think she was right: sometimes I am borderline obsessed with the idea of fairness. And when I was younger, this proclivity of course extended to my media preferences:
To this day, I cannot stand watching Phineas and Ferb, because I find the central conceit so unfair to Candace. Like, I want those little crazy-head-shape freaks to get busted – they should not be building roller coasters and putting on concerts. OPEN THE SCHOOLS
Despite loving the first season of Big Little Lies, I had to turn off the second season within two episodes because I thought Meryl Streep’s character was wretched and unfair in a way that made my stomach churn
I stopped watching My Cousin Vinny within fifteen minutes when I realized the entire plot would be around an unfair legal misunderstanding
Although I still have this value tucked away inside of me, narratively, lately, I am interested in art that is more concerned with being human than it is with being righteous.
A friend recently told me that she views me as an advocate against imparting morality onto media, which honestly made me feel pretty insecure and bad about myself – like, am I projecting some edgelord, devil’s advocate sort of energy? I felt a little misunderstood, because I certainly believe that some pieces of media have evil political projects and feel comfortable saying as much (Even Charles Melton could not convince me to watch A24’s Warfare). I also enjoy reading Vulture think pieces questioning whether writing is thematically successful. I also think Barbie (2023) irreparably damaged public understanding of gender politics in this country, and no I will not elaborate on that.
What I do feel passionate about, however, is that the primary purpose of engaging with story is not to identify guilty parties and punish them. You can do that, of course, but I find it a little boring. This compromises the exciting part of fiction: feeling the sort of empathy that destabilizes our previous understanding of the world.
I guess all that I’m really trying to say at the end of the day is that I liked this monologue. It made me think about circumstances in which you have to acknowledge your own responsibility within the interpersonal dynamics you find yourself stuck in, and how honesty and reconciliation can be a path for showing up in these relationships more authentically moving forward. Laurie wants to keep her friends more than she wants to point out their hypocrisies, and I think that’s fine and moving and true to life.
Sometimes we forgive people who don’t deserve it. Isn’t that the whole point?
recommended reading:
Margot at the Wedding (2007) - another movie that’s good if you don’t mind when characters (Nicole Kidman) are mean and unfair
+1 to the phineas & ferb bullet