Film Review: Triangle of Sadness
In short, Triangle of Sadness leaves three major impressions on the viewer. Act one: good. Act two: poignant, entertaining, grandiose, and visually stunning. Act three: Okay?
Triangle of Sadness, directed by Ruben Östlund, is the newest European satire to hit the silver screen this award season. Being nominated for an Oscar, I had high hopes going into my viewing of what I thought would be a sharp and strongly allegorical satire. While the symbolism may have been strong, it was the plot and characters that fell short.
Centering loosely around self-absorbed supermodels Carl (Harris Dickenson) and Yaya (Charlbi Dean), Östlund guides the viewer through the voyage of an extravagant yacht cruise gone terribly awry. Östlund begins with an awkward and tense dinner date featuring our two beautiful models, where they argue egregiously about whose turn it is to foot the bill. Although presenting a solid start to Östlund’s apparent mockery of modern relationships and money, the argument is much longer than necessary, feeling as though, after twenty-five or so minutes of the same conversation, it is more filler than actual substance or commentary. While the message is presented well, it hardly takes a super-genius to decode it.
We follow the two models six months later as they are gifted a luxury cruise to feature on their influential social media pages. This cruise — unsurprisingly — is not all that it seems. Flooded with wealthy bourgeoisie, far-too accommodating service workers, ridiculously expensive food, and an intense bout of sea sickness, the second (and arguably main) act of the movie is sharp and witty while still remaining delightful.
We meet the other patrons of the boat: a wealthy British couple, a woman who has suffered a stroke, and a proudly-capitalist Russian and his lovely ladies, to name a few. We also meet the “communist” (if you can really call him that) captain of the ship, played by Woody Harrelson, and his staff that runs the ship while he is eternally drunk. Arguably the wittiest and most ostentatious character, Harrelson delivers the best performance of the movie, although he is on screen for far too little time of the two-and-half hour long film. As his character interacts with our sloppy rich Russian (Burić) through a clever debate on capitalism, the two deliver what Östlund might have thought was the greatest social commentary since the birth of humanity. Although fun and hilariously placed in the background of the guest’s intense bouts of sea-sickness, their banter loses its poignancy due simply to its length. I am not sure that Östlund has ever heard the saying “brevity is key”.
The sea-sickness, most likely the best yet most graphic and repulsive aspect of the movie, portrays Östlund’s commentary most effectively. As the filthy rich guests become filthy rolling and flopping around in their golden vomit, the movie finally delivers the message expected by the viewer after watching the misleading trailer.
Every ounce of potential built up throughout the first hour and a half of the movie was stolen along with the yacht in the final act. The models find themselves stranded on what seems to be a deserted island after most of the guests and crew are killed by pirates who overtake the yacht. These pirates are led by Abigail (Dolly De Leon), a maid on the ship, who is the sole proprietor of any survival skills out of the remaining guests on the island. The already quite obvious message gains a whole new sense of “yeah, no shit” as once powerless Abigail rises to power on the island. Establishing herself as the matriarch of the island, she recruits Carl as a sort of sexual playmate in exchange for pretzel sticks, which had potential for interest, but remains, like most other aspects of the third act, underdeveloped. No amount of pretzel sticks, even at my hungriest, would make me want to rewatch the end of this movie. Lacking depth and development, De Leon’s character is a rushed last minute addition to bump up the potential “woke” value of the film. The ridiculous notion of the third act being centered around a character who is introduced two-thirds through the movie is made more absurd by the ending of the film, which by and far proves that sometimes an ambiguous ending is not artful, but just downright lazy.
Overall, the film features some good metaphors and commentary, but simply fell flat due to a collection of massively underwhelming and underdeveloped characters. While the thought was there, the film was muddled by Östlund’s unintelligible need to include a critique of every single societal issue, instead of picking one and sticking to it. The beautiful cinematography, wardrobe, and fun European soundtrack can only carry the film so far. The film itself is not a complete flop, as it is a fun watch for someone who is okay being slightly unsatisfied in the end.
