Most actors would cross Siberia barefoot to audition for “The White Lotus.”
Patravadi Mejudhon didn’t even want to go across town.
“One day, somebody called and said, ‘Please come audition for “The White Lotus,”’” the veteran actress told The World.
“I said, ‘No, I don’t think I have time.’”
Patravadi could’ve made time. But in her mid-70s, she’d long since abandoned any Hollywood ambitions, having tried and failed to catch a break in Los Angeles when she was young. She’d instead devoted her life to becoming the godmother of Thai theater, performing for smaller, discerning audiences.
Also, Patravadi didn’t know a thing about “The White Lotus,” nor cared that the HBO series (about Americans behaving badly in tropical locales) would set its third season in Thailand. Her children, however, couldn’t believe their mom had just snubbed one of the most-prestigious shows on television.
Fortunately, Patravadi’s phone rang. Again.
“They said Khun Mike White wanted to meet me. At the Oriental Hotel.”
Khun is Thai for “mister” and Mike White is the triple-Emmy-winning creator of “The White Lotus.” Apparently, the director had come to Bangkok. He seemed determined to meet her.
She still didn’t understand why. Patravadi had tasted stardom in Thailand, as a TV and film actress, but that was decades ago. She’d since retired from the screen, living quietly as a theater maven, helping younger Thai actors perfect their craft.
She agreed to meet White, just to hear him out. But she already knew her answer.
Thanks. But no thanks.
In a lengthy interview, Patravadi explained how he ultimately won her over — and why the acclaimed director was so intent on casting her in the first place. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
On her aristocratic childhood
Patravadi’s mother once served Thailand’s royal family.
“She was kind of a lady-in-waiting for the king. But in the evening, she’d read for the queen.”
Those connections paid off. After leaving the palace, her mother landed a lucrative concession running ferries on the Chao Phraya, Bangkok’s iconic river, plied with rice barges and lined with glittering temple spires.
Patravadi was groomed to take over the business, but her interests lied elsewhere. She was spellbound by traveling theater troupes that performed at a Buddhist temple by the river for boatmen and other common folks.
“I snuck out with my nanny to watch. Because my mother didn’t want me going out at night.”
Thai high society, back then, held a dim view of entertainers dancing for their supper.
“They called it a low profession. It’s not suitable for our family. But I liked it.”
On her early swipe at Hollywood
Her parents indulged Patravadi when she was a girl, allowing her to study acting, singing and dancing. But they expected her, as a young woman, to buckle down and focus on the family business. It didn’t take. Patravadi ended up in California, honing her acting chops at the Pasadena Playhouse, just 15 miles outside Hollywood.
“I went to auditions, and I got extra parts here and there. No big parts, nothing interesting … very low-grade movies. I didn’t think it was proper. I thought, you know, I better go back to my country. It’s more dignified.”
Stardom, at last
In 1973, Patravadi scored her first major role. She played a lovesick woman in a Thai film called, “There is No Heaven for You,” the story of a romance gone wrong. She won Thailand’s equivalent to the Oscar and, to her delight, received a golden trophy from none other than Thailand’s king. Even her mother had to admit it: Patravadi had arrived.
“She became a big fan. Secretly.”
But Thai cinema didn’t deliver the dignity for which she longed. Thai TV and film parts rolled her way, but “when I said, ‘I’d love to read the script,’ they’d say, “Well, we make them up along the way.””
Hollywood used to do this too: concoct dialogue on the fly to save time and crank out films cheaply.
“Nobody learned their lines. Somebody would tell you what to say. And I told them, ‘I can’t do that, because I have to know what I’m doing.’ That’s why I’d say no.”
A theater of her own
In 1992, she set up her own theater, along the riverbanks, not far from where she’d watch ragtag theater troupes in her youth. It started off in the parking lot.
“People said, ‘This is impossible. No one’s going to come.’”
But the Patravadi Theater grew into one of the country’s top-performing arts centers. This is where she cemented her legacy as the grand dame of Thai drama, exacting high standards from actors (and herself) while nurturing other Thai performers to pursue their dreams. Over the years, Patravadi still took film and TV roles but, having built her own sanctuary, she had the luxury to say no.
“I don’t like to be in the limelight. I don’t like red carpets. I want to be quiet. And perform. And be a normal human being.”
That is more or less what she told White when they met at the Oriental Hotel, just a few years back. Patravadi had quit taking outside jobs to focus entirely on yet another arts academy she’d created: Vic Hua Hin, in a coastal area several hours’ drive from Bangkok. She was content with her life and didn’t need the headache.
Thanks. But no thanks.
Why she joined ‘The White Lotus’ after all
Patravadi recalled White telling her, “I’m going to bring you back.” To stardom, he meant. But stardom didn’t mean much to her. She’d tasted it before and moved on.
That made her even more perfect for his role. For the third season, he’d invented a well-heeled, silver-haired woman named Sritala, the owner of The White Lotus spa on a Thai island. This character was once a flashy singer in her youth, but had since lost her luster — and now resorted to performing for Western hotel guests, just to bask in the spotlight glow once again.
Patravadi finally understood.
“She was a star, which… I know how it feels. A star when they get old? They get forgotten.”
She had to concede that — given her aristocratic upbringing and her bumpy adventures in show business — few could execute this role quite like her.
She took the job. Once Patravadi was on set, something clicked. Maybe this experience would satiate a long-buried desire to work on a crème de la créme program. Fifty years ago, LA casting agents weren’t too keen on casting a Southeast Asian woman, “so I wanted to learn how Western people do movies, because I never learned that. How they do sets, how they design. The stuntmen, the soundmen. It was exciting.”
On working with Asia’s No. 1 pop star
The third season of “The White Lotus” is stacked with renowned American and British talent — and perhaps the most-famous pop star in Asia, let alone Thailand. That would be 27-year-old Lalisa Manobal, who was born in a rural Thai province and later joined the K-pop group BlackPink. An acting novice, she plays a resort worker.
“The first time she met me, she kneeled on the floor like Thai girls do,” Patravadi recalled. “And she said, ‘Oh hello, teacher!’”
For a Thai person, this is no less extraordinary than Rihanna supplicating at your toes. Lalisa wanted Patravadi’s advice.
“And I thought to myself, wow, she’s a famous star, yet with the manners of a Thai girl who has enormous respect for her elders.”
The two developed a cozy rapport on set.
“I was like that when I was young. Singing and dancing and creating a lot of crazy things. And I was thin like her, too. I told Lisa, ‘When you’re 77 like me, light some incense and tell me your weight.’”
On her unfinished career
Patravadi is enjoying a second wind, thanks to “The White Lotus.” A Thai television channel is suddenly interested in hiring her to produce a 12-part series.
“I’ll be acting, writing, directing and producing, because Thailand doesn’t have that much budget. Compared to ‘The White Lotus’, I think it’s 1%. But I told my people, ‘We can do it. Thai people can do anything, you know?’”
Patravadi has also become a fan of the show she once spurned.
“Yes, yes, I finally got HBO. I could ask to see the whole thing in advance” — the entire third season of “The White Lotus” — “but I’m just going to watch it week by week like everyone else.”