The line should no longer be, “A guy walks into a bar…” so much as, “Jennifer Coolidge’s character walks in on someone having better sex than she ever has or will.” While it takes three times to really constitute a “pattern,” surely two infers more than mere “coincidence.” This seemed to be the case during the fifth episode of The White Lotus’ second season, when Tanya’s voyeuristic-leaning curiosity got the better of her in the middle of the night. For, were it not for that “morbid interest” in confirming—while already knowing full well what such grunts would entail—certain suspicions, both Tanya and a similar character forebear, Victoria, would have been spared any additional “trauma.”
Of course, “trauma” is a very subjective word for both Victoria and Tanya, with the former being a rich Upper East Sider (as all that orbit Carrie Bradshaw’s world tend to be) who invites the starring quartet of Sex and the City over for a so-called purse party in the sixth season’s third episode, “The Perfect Present.” To the dismay of Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha, however, they’re blindsided by the “theme,” only told by Victoria as they walk through the door to the sight of racks upon racks of horrendous-looking purses all clearly made with some very DIY methods and materials in the aftermath of Victoria’s breakup. Which is why Samantha turns to Charlotte as she holds up one of the bags and says, “Someone should tell Crazy that owning a hot glue gun does not make you a hot purse designer.” And yes, Charlotte was already “woke-ified” before @everyoutfitonsatc came along to meme her as Woke Charlotte, for she appears to clap back at Samantha’s “ableist slur” by responding, “Don’t call her crazy.”
Though surely everyone, even in 2022, would still like to use that word on Tanya—especially her husband, Greg (Jon Gries). While being married to her felt manageable when he thought he was going to die of cancer, it no longer does now that he’s carrying on just fine. His abrupt departure from their Sicilian vacation for “work” leaves Tanya in the hands of a gaggle of gay men helmed by Quentin (Tom Hollander), who purports to admire her “fabulousness,” but is clearly not at all as he seems. Tanya, being ultimately extremely narcissistic, takes the bait of his flattery and drags her assistant, Portia (Haley Lu Richardson), along for the ride. One that eventually leads them away from the White Lotus and to Palermo so that Tanya can see Quentin’s villa in all its glory… in addition to a performance of Madama Butterfly at Teatro Massimo. This being among many none-too-subtle hints that have prompted viewers to theorize about Tanya’s potential suicide. Or perhaps a plan to make it look as though she did kill herself. Even though it should be hard to believe (for any reasonable being) that a person so self-involved could do so—as Portia would probably corroborate of her perpetually-in-a-fugue-state boss.
Having been so distracted the last few days by Quentin’s “goodwill” toward her in Greg’s absence, it’s as though Tanya’s practically said the same thing about him that Victoria did at the purse party of her ex: “Who needs a balding thirty-eight-year-old with erectile dysfunction when you can have a new career and cute cater waiters?” And Portia is likely to encourage such a sentiment as she benefits from getting the sex and adventure she wanted out of the trip all along. All thanks to the presence of Quentin’s straight (or is he?) nephew (or is he?), Jack (Leo Woodall). While it was already enough of a slight sting to see Portia getting some (enough so that Tanya actually says to her with a pointing finger, “I’m jealous”), Tanya is much more stunned into silence than Victoria upon walking in on a duo she should not be seeing in flagrante delicto at the end of “That’s Amore.”
For yes, both characters are perennially unlucky in love and seemingly even in sex. What’s more, like Tanya, the self-delusion that allows Victoria to briefly be in a good mood (this time because she’s convinced herself she’s “Fendi”) is prone to taking swift dips at the drop of a hat (or purse). For, after seeing someone older than her a.k.a. Samantha (who looks younger despite having far less plastic surgery) get dicked down by one of those aforementioned cater waiters (Smith Jerrod, formerly Jerry Jerrod), the revelation of being saddled with her own cobwebbed vagina is too much to bear as she runs back upstairs and snaps at a partygoer who asks, “Victoria, does this come in any other colors?” Victoria replies, “Do I look like a fuckin’ department store? Get the fuck out of my apartment!” She knocks over a rack in an uncontrollable burst of emotionalism that falls under the Tayna McQuoid-Hunt School of Performance as well. Complete with Victoria’s line at the sight of seeing Samantha and Smith, “I’m way too fucking fragile to see this!”
But what’s really to be so fragile about on both character’s parts? After all, they both come from big city backgrounds where “sexual shenanigans” are supposed to be par for the course—along with debauchery in general. Particularly in the world of the affluent, the “fine” purveyors of all things “dark triad shit” (as Daphne [Meghann Fahy] would call it). At the same time, it’s being insulated from reality that allows one to indulge in yet another luxury of the rich: “being fragile.” Coolidge’s gravitation to this type of role accordingly leaves her character easily “scandalized.” An overt guise for the contempt that miserable people have when they see anyone else enjoying themselves. Especially orgasmically.
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