Program: Thomas Caldwell reviews Triangle of Sadness

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Triangle of Sadness review

Early in the film it is revealed that the ‘triangle of sadness’ is a term used in the beauty industry to describe the wrinkled pattern between a person’s eyebrows, a supposedly undesirable trait to have. It is therefore an apt title for this film where beauty and modelling are two of the many targets of Swedish filmmaker Ruben Östlund’s satirical wit. However, the title is also a reference to the triptych structure of the film where across three distinct parts the film follows the misadventures of model Carl (Harris Dickinson) and influencer Yaya (Charlbi Dean) as they bicker about the unequal status underpinning their relationship, go on a disastrous trip on a luxury cruise ship, and then have an increasingly absurd adventure in the aftermath of the cruise. Each part has a slightly different tone and perspective, but there are characters who occur across more than one part, and nearly everybody is unified by being in miserable situations that are presented to the audience with gleeful relish. Triangle of Sadness is far from subtle about what it wants to say, but it is hard to resist its depiction of wealthy, powerful and beautiful people as they are stripped of dignity and autonomy.

Especially in his most recent films Force Majeure and The Square, Östlund has become renowned for his biting satirical depictions of class, privilege and gender, especially in the ways that best intentions at being noble and ethical can become all too easily compromised. Triangle of Sadness continues to delight in turning the tables on social order, in particular by humiliating men who are unable to live up to the ideals of masculinity that they have constructed in their minds. Östlund has so much fun with Carl as a resentful and constantly undermined version of masculinity that it is hard not to feel sorry for him, although it is equally very hard not to really enjoy the humiliations and frustrations drolly dished out to him either.

The first part of Triangle of Sadness is very much a talky comedy featuring Carl and Yaya arguing about things such as the relationship dynamics of who should pay a restaurant bill when Carl is meant to take the role of the male provider but also earns far less as a male model than Yaya does with all her endorsements and followers. Their dialogue is hilarious in its banality and often painfully familiar as they go around in circles and take pettiness to extreme levels. The film then expands its scope when the action moves to a luxury cruise with its upstairs/downstairs divisions between the ultra-wealthy passengers and the staff, who are then further segmented between the overly keen crisply uniformed crew members who are supposed to enthusiastically say yes to everything requested of them, and the mostly silent and unseen immigrant workers who quietly clean up out of sight.

The sequence on the boat is the strongest in the film with Östlund having a lot of fun with throwing the audience of guard with characters such as the friendly elderly couple who made their fortune in arms dealings, and the incredible awkwardness of one of the wealthy passengers insisting that the desperate to please cabin staff stop working and go swimming in a wonderfully uncomfortable moment of forced and unwanted leisure time. Added into the mix is the affable capitalist loving Russian oligarch Dimitry (Zlatko Burić) getting drunk with the communist loving ship’s captain (Woody Harrelson) on a night when turbulent seas mix disastrously with fine dining, resulting in an extended sequence of profane and abject displays of bodily functions. The result is both a transgressive savageing of how the human body reduced of all its dignity becomes a great social leveller, but also, simply, an incredibly funny sequence of vomit gags. High art and low art collide wonderfully, like caviar and choppy seas.

The final sequence turns social order – especially regarding class and gender – on its head even further, and its commentary about who is actually useful to society will not be lost on post-pandemic audiences. Östlund plays one of his greatest tricks by making a previously unnoticed character rise to the centre of the narrative, cleverly implicating the audience along with the other characters for having not paid enough attention to somebody who turns out to be far more important than we gave them credit for. Like a lot of the film, it is both social commentary and a joke, which is both obvious but also worth stating. The carnage and despair that is played for laughs in Triangle of Sadness make lack some of the more acute observations and wry humour that characterised Force Majeure, but it still sees Östlund successfully straddling the divide between nuanced commentary and broad humour with a bunch of characters that you cannot help liking, but equally, cannot help enjoying to see suffer.

Released by Sharmill Films in cinemas from 26 December 2022.

Credits

• Jacinta Parsons, Author