Ruben Östlund first came onto my radar with Force Majeure, and did so in a strange way. The plot description I was given by a friend was “it’s a movie about a family caught in an avalanche.” While that’s not necessarily untrue, it certainly doesn’t capture the true identity of the fim. I was expecting a thriller, and what I got was one of the finest “discomfort” comedies ever made. It was a hell of a bait and switch, but it only added to the experience. Everyone on screen was scared, confused, and emotional — why shouldn’t I be as well?
It’s an experience I will never forget, and one that has really only been replicated by Östlund himself. Force Majeure skewered the family unit, with all its expectations, gender roles, and individual trade-offs, and his follow-up, The Square, took aim at the pretentious art world, hitting its targets with clinical accuracy. Both films are dark, funny, and much deeper than any basic plot description could do justice.
Östlund’s latest, Triangle of Sadness, is even darker and funnier than either previous film (I haven’t seen anything prior to FM, but plan to), and is just as effective at making mincemeat of its targets. What are its targets? Well, to put it simply: everything. On the surface it’s about class war, capitalism, and the intoxicating nature of unearned power, but when we dig deeper, it’s a scathing indictment of humanity on the whole — of all the titles we give ourselves, all the roles we play, and all the little societal transactions we undergo in order to not just keep everything moving, but to keep everybody in their place.
Triangle of Sadness is a story told in multiple parts. It begins with Carl and Yaya, a young couple doing much better financially than others their age. Carl (Harris Dickinson) is a model, and Yaya (Charlbi Dean) is an influencer. An early scene involving the expectations around who should pay for dinner is cringe cinema at its finest, and the brilliance of Östlund’s writing is immediately notable. Not only is the scene simultaneously hilarious and dramatically compelling, but it also gives us a great sense of who these people are. Carl, who makes less than Yaya, feels shortchanged in the expectation that he pay — a transactional concern that is death to many relationships — while Yaya plays coy about a previous promise to pay. Is she purposefully ignoring it when the check is dropped, hoping that the man of the relationship will do as expected, or is she legitimatelyt distracted by her phone (which, as an influencer, doubles as her source of income)? It’s a silent game of egos and expectations that turns into a full on argument in no time at all.
The resolution is filled with smiles and honesty, but the journey to these smiles is beyond arduous.
This is far from the last test they will have to undergo as a couple, especially once they set foot on an expensive yacht for an all expenses paid outing at sea, afforded by Yaya’s many sponsors. Once aboard, they meet a cavalcade of characters, including, but not limited to, a weapons manufacturer and his wife, a capitalist Russian oligarch, a lonely millionaire, and a stroke victim who can only speak a single phrase. The yacht is fully staffed, and said staff includes a hierarchy of its own: the above deck workers, despite being servants to their rich customers, share in a celebratory dance in anticipation of generous tips at weeks end, while the below deck workers must do their best to keep the ship running without being seen or heard.
At the top of it all is a proudly socialist, aggressively vice-driven captain (Woody Harrelson), who carries a lot of shame as the leader of the least socialist pocket society imaginable.
It would be a shame to say too much more, as the fun of Triangle of Sadness comes from how bizarrely it all unfolds, so I’ll leave it at this: when disaster strikes at sea, money doesn’t mean shit, nor do arbitrary social roles. It’s all about survival. You can guess which “class” is most adept at that.
At the screening I attended, novelty vomit bags were handed out to all patrons. Granted, this is just for funsies, but there are certainly some people out there who might need it. Triangle of Sadness pulls no punches in depicting the fluids inherent to sea sickness, backed up plumbing, and the liberal application of booze. Those familiar with Östlund’s sense of humor know that such things are not exempt from his brand of frankness, but this is far and away his most explicit usage of gross-out/slapstick humor to date. What makes the movie special, however, is that under the often zany surface is a maelstrom of thematic depth.
Triangle of Sadness should absolutely be held in the same high regard as Parasite when it comes to take-no-prisoners class satire, but where the latter is a clinical, brilliantly executed Russian doll of revelations, the former is managed chaos, as unhinged as the ocean is deep.
While not necessarily the best terminology here, Triangle of Sadness is a true crowd pleaser. It’s as fun to watch the calamity unspool on screen as it is to get caught up in the shock and awe of the crowd. Laughter gives way to groans, groans give way to gasps, and gasps give way to shamed introspection as these colorful caricatures, even in their ivory towers, begin to feel just like us, behaving as much in self-interest as in the preservation of the invisible systems that keep the status quo in check. A capitalist loves capitalism until it doesn’t benefit them. A socialist loves socialism until it doesn’t benefit them — are they really so different? I can’t say personally, but Östlund explores it through a lens so charged and goofy that it’s hard to ascribe to it the cynicism one would expect. In a way, that’s his greatest superpower as a storyteller. By slowly boiling off the invisible structures of society, he is able to show us how quickly and easily the human animal reappears.
The question remains then, do these roles serve a function? Is the purity of anarchy a danger in and of itself? What’s the trade-off?
Who knows, but goddamn it, humans are funny, panicky little things, aren’t we?
There will be plenty who will not be won over by the abrasive, uh, charms, of Triangle of Sadness — an understandable position for sure, but those for whom it works will be absolutely blown away by the unhinged brilliance on display. Östlund may be the best satirist working today. He’d better be, because it’s going to be a hell of a task to top this one.
Directed by Ruben Östlund
Written by Ruben Östlund
Starring Thobias Thorwid, Harris Dickinson, Charlbi Dean, Dolly De Leon
Rated R, 150 minutes
