In ‘Glass Onion’ and ‘White Lotus,’ Disruptions for the Ultra-Wealthy

Both are anthologies about the ultra-wealthy. They offer two very different endings.

First things first, since the last Cansler Culture, I’ve had several pieces published:

• For World Politics Review (shoutout to my employer), I wrote about how Marvel has gotten more diverse in representation but is still stubbornly American in perspective. That might be a problem down the line.

• For DC Theater Arts, I wrote a review of a great play called English and a feature about the decade-long journey of Remember This, a new film about the life of Jan Karski that began as a one-off show at Georgetown University.

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The following contains spoilers for “Knives Out,” a great film that has been out for a few years now, and “Glass Onion,” a great film that’s been out for about a month but I feel like most people have watched already? Idk if you want to wait to read this, I won’t be mad.

The image that you’re left with at the end of Knives Out, Rian Johnson’s 2019 murder mystery, is one that feels good ⁠— like, really good. 

You’ve just watched as the darkness under the pleasurable surface of an extremely wealthy family is uncovered. You’ve witnessed the way they treat those below them in the hierarchy, even when it is at odds with their stated values. You’ve seen the lengths that the wealthy are willing to go to maintain the lifestyle they are accustomed to, the lifestyle they feel they deserve.

Then, you get to watch them lose everything.

It’s a classic example of schadenfreude ⁠— the pleasure of witnessing someone else’s misfortune ⁠— made even sweeter because we believe, unequivocally, that these people in particular deserve the misfortune they get.

The sequel, 2022’s Glass Onion, doubles down on the schadenfreude, but expands its thematic purview to include not just wealth but the entire “system” ⁠— all the societal factors that allow the rich and powerful to maintain a position of their liking.

This time, Johnson’s targets are more timely: a tech billionaire, a politician, a formerly-canceled pop culture icon, a bro influencer. All of them claim to be “disruptors” but only seem ready to disrupt when it clearly benefits them. When it comes time to truly disrupt the system, something they all claim they want to do, they stutter and stop.

There’s a feeling of resentment in those moments. We know that they know the system they have benefitted from is broken. We know that they know they have the power to tear it down. We know that they know there is a risk, but that the risk is worth it. But they don’t risk it. 

Indeed, as seems to often be the case with those on top, the status quo wins out. So, when the system is destroyed for them, by someone “below” them, it feels good ⁠— like, really good.

It helps, too, that Glass Onion comes at a time when tech billionaires and the dark hearts of the rich and powerful are at the forefront of consciousness. After all, the character of Miles Bron is painted as a genius ⁠— an erratic, off-beat genius, sure, but a genius nonetheless. There’s a mythology built around him, like he’s been blessed with brilliance by the gods. 

And the thing about mythology is that once it’s been built, it is difficult to dismantle. When one of Bron’s plans is revealed to be dumb, the immediate reaction by another character is to say “it’s so dumb it’s brilliant.” Luckily, Benoit Blanc is there to remind us that “no, it’s just dumb.”

The world has been reminded of such a lesson with the most recent saga of Elon Musk, another man with a mythology of genius built around him who claims to be a disruptor but is, in reality, a far-right troll. When Musk took over Twitter and immediately started making disorganized, dangerous, and downright dumb decisions, I’ll admit that I briefly considered that Musk may be secretly trying to destroy the company for some higher purpose.

I wasn’t alone. As Charlie Werzel wrote in his newsletter, Galaxy Brain: “Despite all the incredible, damning reporting coming out of Twitter and all of Musk’s very public mistakes, many people still refuse to believe—even if they detest him—that he is simply incompetent.”

In other words: No, he’s just dumb.

There may have been a certain schadenfreude to society realizing Musk’s incompetence if his actions didn’t have significant consequences for the world. But they do. 

Instead, we are left to pay the price for that incompetence while we experience schadenfreude via Glass Onion. That’s why witnessing Bron’s downfall feels especially good at a time when so many would like to see people like Bron in the real world suffer a similar fate. We can enjoy the schadenfreude in the film because we don’t need to worry about the consequences of Bron’s incompetence. In all likelihood, though, there are consequences, and the ones who suffer those consequences are likely not him, nor any of the other so-called disruptors.

That harsh reality is something White Lotus ⁠— the HBO Max series that recently finished its second season and coincidentally enough also explores wealth through a semi-anthology set-up ⁠— understands.

Each of the two seasons so far explores a different facet of wealth and how it intersects with other issues, but both follow a similar emotional structure. Over the course of a week, the ultra-wealthy encounter scenarios and complications that make their lives increasingly chaotic, like a tsunami destroying the status quo that they have enjoyed for so long. They have been living a life of delusion, and now they are forced to reckon with the real world. 

Not so fast. It turns out that the chaos was more like a wave than a tsunami ⁠— the boat rocks, but it doesn’t sink. In the end, the ultra-wealthy (mostly) end up back in their status quo. The conflicted family ends up bonded. The betrayed wife ends up smiling. The new money couple learns they can now afford the luxury of delusion. Those who have just entered this world decide it’s better to be inside than outside.

That ending, of course, doesn’t feel good the way the ending of Knives Out and Glass Onion does. So I’ll still be watching those. The schadenfreude is worth the delusion.

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That’s all for this edition of Cansler Culture. I’ll see ya again as soon as I come up with a topic (maybe Zach Bryan and conservatism? Idk).