Film Review: Triangle of Sadness

Director: Ruben Östlund
Starring: Harris Dickinson, Charlbi Dean, Woody Harrelson
Running time: 150 minutes

Triangle of Sadness revels in on-the-nose satire just as much as it revels in stripping its characters to within one percent of their dignity. We see the super-rich hit with geysers spewing faeces, fighting for scraps of fish, crestfallen, cucked and killed; even in death they don’t catch a break, as they're fleeced of their jewels by their own kin. And I wouldn't have it any other way - and, from the rapturous choruses of laughter and mortified gasps of horror in my film screening, I believe I'm not alone. Ruben Östlund's farce is an irresistible reminder of how fun it is to punch up. 

We first see Carl (Harris Dickinson) among a group of other male models lined up like an identification parade - a mood board of mechanically-geared flesh puppets in a range of shades, faces geared for the manufacturing of emotion, hollow vessels of capitalism, peddling ‘grump brands or happy brands’. This vision of the fashion industry feels almost dystopian. When Yaya (Charlbi Dean) isn't strutting down the runways of fashion shows which display phrases like 'cynicism disguised as optimism', she's showcasing her ethereal beauty on the digital catwalk as a social media influencer.

The pair make quite the handsome couple, but just like the industry in which they operate in, it feels shallow. This shallowness is highlighted during a fancy meal when the pair get into a dispute about whose turn it is to pick up the bill. Through this relationship we see how feminine beauty has the ability to bend and break willpowers, subvert the gender pay gap and emasculate with a mere flick of the eyes - 'I make more money than you,' she constantly likes to remind her mutually-beneficial partner. Carl, however, is fully aware that he's putty in her hand, and embarks on a hilariously futile quest to show her 'real love'.

Östlund’s satirical strokes become broader when Carl and Yaya bag themselves a place on a luxury cruise for the super-rich. Passengers include an Eastern European oligarch and his two wives, a lonely tech mogul unlucky in love and an old British couple, whose wealth derives from the sale of hand grenades. Class dynamics are dissected with the introduction of the cabin crew and the cooks, allowing us to connect with a compelling upstairs-downstairs narrative. It's an ensemble of wonderfully zany caricatures, of course, but each actor embellishes their character with a rich sense of humanity. That being said, sympathy is very hard to come by in this film.

There's only one character I have any semblance of sympathy for, and that's Captain Thomas Smith, the self-loathing alcoholic at the helm - played by the ever-watchable
Woody Harrelson in a cameo for the ages. He becomes the vocal point of one of the most drawn out, bat-shit, escalating comedic set pieces ever committed to film, involving a Captain's dinner, spoiled food and a violent sea storm... You work it out. 

With his second Palme d'Or on the bounce, Östlund is relentless in his quest to subvert narratives, humanising the dehumanised with a steady aim, with materialism always at the centre of his crosshairs. I'm sure some people will find the director's brand of heavy irony to be a bit self-indulgent, getting lost in the ocean of the on-the-nose, but in terms of a cinematic comedy, Triangle of Sadness is an emphatic success. An amusing epic, its 150-minute runtime genuinely flies by with its progression of one funny scene after another combining deadpan cringe and gross-out slapstick. Above all, this is a film that demands to be seen in the cinema. I haven't seen a comedy simultaneously elicit cries of laughter and gasps of horror this strongly since Jackass Forever.

Did you know? Triangle of Sadness received an eight-minute standing ovation at Cannes Film Festival.

Triangle of Sadness is showing at Broadway Cinema from Friday 28 October