Four Seasons Resort Lana'i

The rooms are the property's quiet triumph. Following the Ellison renovation, they rank among the most beautifully executed guestrooms in the Four Seasons portfolio globally: warm koa wood floors, creamy leather, thoughtful tech (automated shades, mood-lit scene controls, chatbot-style iPad concierge, a Toto toilet that opens to greet you), and bathrooms that feel like private spas, complete with in-mirror televisions. Beds are cloud-like. Lanais are generously sized. The one persistent weakness is the property's loose use of "partial ocean view"—a category that too often delivers little more than a sideways glimpse through foliage. Guests paying for a view should confirm room number and orientation in advance, as the margin between a magical oceanfront and a glorified garden room can be significant.

This is where the property separates itself decisively. The landscaping alone—densely planted gardens with koi ponds, waterfalls, rescued parrots, hidden seating nooks—creates an immersive sense of a botanical garden that happens to contain a hotel rather than the reverse. The open-air lobby frames a cinematic view of the bay. The two pools, redesigned in dark lava rock and ringed with private pockets of seating, are intimate rather than grand (a design choice some find charming and others find cramped). The overall aesthetic is understated luxury rendered in native materials—quietly confident rather than ostentatious, which suits both the island and the clientele.

The setting is, frankly, unimprovable. The resort is perched above Hulopo'e Bay, a protected marine preserve where spinner dolphins regularly enter the water and humpbacks breach offshore in season. The short walk to one of Hawaii's finest beaches, the Jack Nicklaus–designed Manele golf course directly above the property (which belongs on any serious golfer's short list of American resort courses), and the island's uncrowded, almost time-capsule quality all contribute to a sense of genuine retreat. The flip side: reaching Lana'i requires either the complimentary Lana'i Air charter from Honolulu (a delightful experience in itself) or a ferry from Maui, and the island offers minimal off-property dining or diversion. This is a feature for those seeking solitude and a bug for those who want variety.

Service is the property's defining strength and, occasionally, its most jarring weakness. At its best—which is often—staff remember names by the second day, the beach team greets returning guests with the chairs already angled correctly, pool attendants cruise through with frozen fruit, Evian face mist, and sunglass-cleaning cloths, and figures like "Uncle Bruno," the rescue-parrot caretaker, become lasting memories in their own right. The sense of genuine Aloha, particularly among longtime local staff, distinguishes this property from Four Seasons outposts in glossier urban markets. Where service stumbles is at the front desk and in advance planning, where overbooked activities, botched restaurant reservations, and the occasional bait-and-switch on room categories have produced some of the most pointed criticism the property receives. For a hotel at this price point, the gap between the warmth of the line staff and the occasional managerial disorganization is conspicuous.

The dining portfolio is strong in quality but thin in quantity, and that tension is the single most common complaint among longer-stay guests. The breakfast at One Forty is genuinely exceptional—among the best resort breakfast spreads in Hawaii, with made-to-order omelets, fresh poke and sashimi, dim sum, and a juice bar that justifies the steep tariff. The on-site Nobu is reliably excellent though not quite at the level of its Malibu or New York siblings; One Forty's dinner service, under its current kitchen, has earned particular admiration. Malibu Farm handles poolside and casual lunch duties with fresh, California-inflected fare. The Break offers grab-and-go. That is essentially it. For stays longer than four nights, menu fatigue is real, and the complimentary shuttle to Lana'i City offers only modest relief. Prices across all outlets are eye-watering even by five-star Hawaii standards—expect to spend $200 to $400 per couple at dinner without ceremony.

At rates that now routinely exceed $2,000 per night before add-ons, this is one of the most expensive resorts in the United States, and the cost structure extends aggressively to food, beverage, and activities. Whether it justifies the spend depends entirely on what a guest values. For the seclusion, the beach, the rooms, the landscaping, and the sheer lack of crowds, the experience can feel worth every dollar—particularly when compared to the increasingly congested Maui luxury resorts. For travelers who prefer variety, urban energy, or who plan to venture off-property frequently, the math becomes harder to defend. The nickel-and-diming on small items—$6 sodas, $14 press-pot coffees, a charged airport shuttle on a ten-minute drive—grates at this price point and remains a source of friction.