Film Review - Triangle of Sadness
Images courtesy of Sharmill Films.
“I’ll make you love me. It’ll be real love as well.” – Carl.
The ability to enjoy, destroy, and move on. It’s this luxurious ignorance that separates the rich from the poor – a concept Ruben Östlund looks to unpack in his wickedly funny ‘drown-the-rich’ dramedy Triangle of Sadness.
Opening on a casting call for male fashion models, we are introduced to faux-rich protagonists Carl (Dickinson) and Yaya (Dean), an influencer couple who are instantly both unstable and unlikable. “It’s not about the money!” yells Carl (Dickinson), minutes after making it clear that the main problem with their relationship is, in fact, ‘the money’. You see, male models get paid less than female models, but Yaya still expects Carl to pay for dinner. He’s outraged. She’s nonplussed. Their solution? Sort it out onboard a $250 million luxury yacht cruise. And thus begins the biting social-class satire, with Carl’s early diatribe about “the equality of the industry” foreshadowing the vapid selfishness that guides each character’s actions for the rest of the film.
Ten minutes later, and Carl accidentally gets a deckhand fired for talking to his girlfriend. The petty carelessness is both funny and sad, which seems to encapsulate the film’s intentionally uncomfortable humour. It’s almost like Östlund is daring you to laugh, only to later reveal the repercussions of these ridiculous interjections, which extends to the rest of the colourful clientele, as each guest toys with the crew in their own unique way. For instance, one woman demands a fully clothed staff member jump in the spa with her, exclaiming, “let’s swap roles!” in giddy excitement while watching the girl squirm. Another informs the captain (Harrelson) that “the sun deck was beautiful, but the sails are a bit dirty.” There are no sails, he informs her - the yacht is electric powered. These painful interactions look to highlight the direct correlation between wealth and humanity, with each naive comment (another guest euphemistically describes his arms dealing business as “precision engineering”) further legitimising the captain’s rampant alcoholism. This culminates in the most memorable (and disgusting) sequence in the film, as the pretentious guests are sent running to their bathrooms during bad weather. Once well-dressed and gulping down caviar, they’re now reminiscent of a sadistic tableau from Dante’s Inferno, being thrown about the boat whilst covered in their own vomit.
But, much like The White Lotus, the film doesn’t just rely on lampooning the ignorant rich. Instead, it explores the lives of the service staff, with the socialist and communist musings of Russian millionaire Dimitry (Buric) reflected in the warped hierarchy of the tip-hungry cabin crew and sub-surface cleaners. This feeds into the film’s central contention – remove an individual’s wealth and status, and how much worth do they bring to society? – a question each character must face in a wild final act. I won’t ruin it, as I believe you’re better off going in blind, but trust me when I say the second half of this movie is delightfully unpredictable. Painful? Yes. Uncomfortable? Yes. But it’s undeniably entertaining. Maybe skip the popcorn for this one, but make sure you climb aboard for one of the best films of the year.
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Triangle of Sadness is screening in cinemas from Boxing Day, Monday 26th December 2022. For tickets and more info, click here.