Save for Tanya in season 2 (who, to be fair, died at her own hands or well, erhm, slippery feet), the wealthy never get their comeuppance on this show. In season 1, Shane stabbed Armond and got to board his flight and reunite with his (very briefly) estranged bride immediately after. Greg escaped his murder-for-hire plot in season 2 only to have a seaside jungle villa and hot young Quebecois girlfriend ready to fulfill his cuckold fantasies in season 3. Knowing all of that, I still held out hope that there’d be some lesson learned this season. I was wrong. And on top of there being no lesson, other than maybe don’t hook up with your hot Russian concierge’s shady friend, there wasn’t much to laugh at this season. It left us lesson-less and humor-less, which all felt a little flat.
But let me start by apologizing to Chelsea and Rick for shitting on them so much in my recaps this season. If I knew they’d meet such a tragic Shakespearean ending—Rick in a shootout with his estranged father’s bodyguards; Chelsea, a victim of his cursed obsessiveness—I would’ve just let their weird couple freak flag fly. I honestly believed that Chelsea’s bad luck and the number of times she predicted their fate was a red herring or her just being way too into astrology. I also hoped some of Frank’s deranged enlightenment might have rubbed off on Rick. I was wrong! Their fate…it was written!
What I felt even more wrong about was that none of the Ratliffs met with any sort of detriment, save for Lochlan, who has some bowel issues for the foreseeable future. Admittedly, I did rank them low the other week, but since that piece, my desire to see Mr. Sad Eyes, aka Timothy, just do it (“it” being whatever homicidal fantasy his little active imagination was concocting that hour) grew exponentially. Timothy’s watered-down spiritual awakening and then simply giving his fam a heads up on the boat that they were about to experience a little personal recession of their own just wasn’t satisfying after weeks of watching him fantasize about ending their bloodline in a Duke shirt.
The one Ratliff awakening I did feel invested in, surprisingly, was Saxon’s. All it took was a brotherly handjob and some decreased screen time and I went from absolutely hating his guts to wanting him to start a Book of the Month club with Chelsea. His character’s arc from completely obnoxious to endearing was rather charming. But we were given no real closure or even face time with him after his resort crush, Chelsea, was gunned down. Instead, we just watch him geared up in a salmon polo and a dark belt, sailing towards the promised land (North Carolina). I wanted to see the fallout from that family realizing their wealth was gone. Or one of them being like, “wait, dad? You weren’t able to form a full sentence or keep your eyes open for a full week. How did you rush to save Lochlan?” With the Ratliffs, we didn’t get to witness a reckoning or a redemption. Maybe I’m not in a high enough tax bracket to witness their ending?
But you know who is? Belinda! I’ve never cheered harder for a direct deposit hitting. I was genuinely on the roller coaster of surprise during her strategic bargaining session with Greg and Zion. She really is a smart business lady! (Zion can learn a thing or two from his mother.) But in the same vein of lessons I never learn, I was shocked to see how quickly she stepped into Tanya’s shoes and abandoned her business plans with Pornchai. Money corrupts, of course! I was just holding out hope she’d be spared from such a curse. Silly me.
Laurie’s dinnertime monologue was especially wonderful in her weird, brutally honest sort of way. The three blondes were my favorite characters this season, and as much as I really enjoyed the intricate cat’s cradle of a dynamic between the three of them, their storyline felt so separate from the rest of the show. They weren’t even invited to Greg’s weird pool party! I would have loved Kate to have her own “why are you with this middle-aged weirdo?” moment with Chelsea. Anyways, that disparity undercut the trio’s sentimental ending. Plus, their group cuddles and giggles on the boat after nearly being gunned down felt uncharacteristically tone deaf (in a show with a lot of tone deafness!).
Then there is sweet, sweet Gaitok. If the Ratliff’s got to blissfully sail away without knowing that their patriarch tried to Jim Jones them with pina coladas, Gaitok’s forever burdened by the pain he’s created and now subjected to. Having shot and killed Rick at Sritala’s insistence, peaceful Gaitok’s world is shattered. Again, if the rich have no real ramifications, the not-rich so often do. It’s a cruel irony, and I was surprised by how surprised it left me. I always leave out a little hope that things might reverse.
This season wasn’t as tight as the previous two, though it picked up a lot of steam towards the end. Male anger was ultimately the demise of everyone. Even Lochlan’s near-death by tree nut was due to his father’s inability to be in touch with himself. It certainly was a marked departure from the slapstick-esque deaths in seasons one and two. Aside from Piper’s “I will not not be rich” meltdown, there was very little humor in this finale, to the season’s detriment, in my opinion. If you’re going to let the rich get away scot free, at least let me laugh at them a little bit more.
