Carey Mulligan and Oscar Isaac portray a miserable couple managing a country club, entangled in a blackmail plot that feels derivative of numerous rich-versus-poor narratives, especially when compared to the exceptional first season. This situation prompts a discussion about “White Lotus Derangement Syndrome,” a phenomenon seemingly infecting the television industry since Mike White’s acclaimed anthology series debuted. This trend involves dramas pitting less affluent Americans against wealthier ones in locations chosen by the latter and inescapable for the former.
In “The White Lotus,” this dynamic is presented through resort staff and guests. Similarly, “Sirens” features personal assistants to billionaires, and other productions showcase characters in roles like single mothers with children at elite schools, domestic staff to expats with hidden sorrows in opulent apartments, or service providers at exclusive spas, including exploited or harassed nannies. Even in shows not starring Nicole Kidman, working-class protagonists often appear as cops, struggling writers, or academics. However, if the academic is tenured, the underdog role shifts to a sexually harassed student, who might then be advised to unionize with the nannies.
The second season of “Beef” now joins this collection of similar themes. The inaugural season, featuring career-defining performances from Steven Yeun and Ali Wong, received widespread praise for its narrative of a minor car park altercation that escalated into a credible psychodrama culminating in an operatic climax.
The current season stars Carey Mulligan and Oscar Isaac as a married couple overseeing a luxury country club. Josh, the general manager, exhibits a fondness for gambling and camgirls, while Lindsay, the interior designer and hostess, is keen on regaining the social standing she lost from her privileged upbringing in England, displaying an icily ruthless demeanor. Both characters are disillusioned with their current life paths, finding themselves tantalizingly close to wealth yet unable to attain it.
English Translation:
Carey Mulligan and Oscar Isaac are a miserable couple who run a country club and get blackmailed in a rich v poor potboiler that has been done so much better before – not least in the stunning first series. What a shame. We may have to start calling it White Lotus Derangement Syndrome. This is a condition spreading through the television commissioning system since Mike White debuted his brilliant anthology series five years ago, whereby drama is produced by setting poorer Americans alongside richer Americans in a location the latter choose to come to and the former can’t escape. In The White Lotus, they are the staff and guests at a variety of luxury resorts. In Sirens, the personal assistants of kabillionaires. In whatever Nicole Kidman is in they can be single mothers with children at assisted places at schools with the cashmere-clad elite, servants to expats nursing secret sadnesses in luxurious apartments, masseuses and other service providers at exclusive spa retreats, or exploited or sexually harassed nannies to people who think nothing of exploiting or harassing their nannies. In non-Kidman derivatives, the dogged blue collar viewer-avatars can also include cops, struggling novelists or academics. Unless the academic is a tenured professor, in which case the underdog becomes a sexually harassed student, who should probably unionise with the nannies.
Now we have the second season of Beef to join the throng. The first, starring Steven Yeun and Ali Wong both doing career-best work, played out to near-universal acclaim as the story of a minor altercation in a car park between their two characters that gradually transformed credible pettiness into a credible psychodrama that built to an operatic climax.
The new one stars Carey Mulligan and Oscar Isaac as a married couple who oversee the running of a luxury country club. Josh is the general manager (with a penchant for gambling and camgirls), Lindsay is the interior designer-cum-hostess (with a penchant for restoring the social status she had as a posho in her native England and an icily ruthless streak). They are both frustrated with where life has led them – so close to real money, but so far from having it themselves.