Triangle of Sadness, Ruben Östlund’s best film yet, is a wild (and gross) ride
Double Palme d'Or-winning auteur Ruben Östlund's latest satire targets the rich and powerful in a surprising and hilarious high-seas saga
Film Reviews Ruben Östlund
By the time viewers reach the final act of the immersive, volatile and innately entertaining Triangle Of Sadness, which lands them on a desert island with a small group of shipwreck survivors, they will have sworn that its beginning, set in beauty-obsessed corners of the fashion world, happened a few movies ago. This is the heartiest possible compliment I can give Swedish auteur Ruben Östlund’s latest brainy satire, a continually self-renewing yet uncompromisingly coherent opus. It’s reminiscent of a rich and compact trip you might find yourself on in a country you haven’t visited before, with every new experience feeling just as welcome, rewarding and surprising as the last.
In Triangle Of Sadness, that country, in the broadest possible terms, is the wilderness called privilege, possessed only by the wealthiest, the most powerful, and/or the prettiest. Beauty is currency, the film suggests in various ways both subtle and obvious, dropping the audience in a sea of gorgeous male models. They’re backstage at a casting call where a documentary crew is interviewing a parade of striking men—all aesthetically muscular and boyishly handsome, rather than ruggedly masculine—on their choice career. Did they receive familial support once they wanted to become a male model? Are they there for an expensive brand that looks down on its consumer, or a happy, financially egalitarian brand like H&M? More importantly, are these men OK making just one-third the income of their female counterparts?
This is perhaps the most subversive notion in Östlund’s wild gamble, since modeling is a profession in which the injustices women face every day, for once, haunt men as well. Slowly, Östlund and his repeat, crafty cinematographer Fredrik Wenzel zero in on the pretty face of Carl (Beach Rats’ Harris Dickinson, coolly funny and subtly vulnerable) amid the casting hopefuls. We follow him to a dinner meeting with his girlfriend and fellow model Yaya (the late and great Charlbi Dean) after a frustratingly imprecise audition.
Although Yaya makes more money, she doesn’t bother to pick up the check, yet again—something she promised to do the night before. The two fight about it in stunningly well-written and shockingly relatable dialogue, one of Östlund’s most distinct gifts. This quarrel prepares us for some of the film’s overarching themes—gender norms, male insecurities, and performative niceties, concepts also depicted in the filmmaker’s previous work, Force Majeure and The Square. But a luxury yacht carries both Carl and Yaya and the film’s ideas about privilege and class, as it sails through an unforgettably (and uncomfortably) hilarious and sumptuous second act that winks at Luis Buñuel’s masterpiece, The Discreet Charm Of The Bourgeoisie.
On the boat, Carl and Yaya don’t necessarily rank particularly high among fellow passengers eagerly boasting about how f*cking rich they are—manure sellers, hand-grenade manufacturers, oil barons … you name it. But the couple possesses beauty, and it isn’t long before they attract the attention of others. One, a handsome crew member who’s hairy-chested and traditionally “manly” in all the ways Carl is not, makes eyes at Yaya. Before their first full day aboard, an insecure Carl files a complaint about the worker and unknowingly gets him fired. This is how much power the customers hold on this boat, whose below-deck crew will go to any lengths to meet the needs of their guests—in exchange for healthy tips, of course. The other person who notices the couple is fertilizer emperor Dimitry (the absolutely hysterical Zlatko Burić). “I sell shit,” he says candidly in his introduction, interrupting Yaya’s latest selfie session after scoring the cruise as a perk of her second (unofficial) career as an influencer.
Among the unreasonable requests of the rich (“Can the crew drop everything and go for a swim?”), and their tone-deaf, grotesque conversations (“we are all equal”), Östlund’s insights in this section are limited to the obvious. But then he devilishly pulls the rug from under the audience (his film is always refreshingly several steps ahead), gifting us an unimaginably yucky, unnervingly funny and riotously over-the-top storm sequence in which the ship’s perennially drunk Captain (a fiendish Woody Harrelson) hosts a dinner while his passengers experience an extreme case of sea sickness. (Those with a sensitive stomach: this is your warning against ample amounts of vomit and grossly overflowing toilets.)
As the scene puts the lefty Captain and Reagan fanatic Dimitry on a drunken ideological duel, it’s a genuinely impressive and laugh-out-loud centerpiece filmed on an actually rocking set, shot and edited with a rebellious heavy-metal attitude and paired with a soundtrack to match the scene’s heightened temperament. And then Östlund turns the tide yet again, making the cruise a target of ruthless pirates, leading to the desert-island final act. But that also marks the foregrounding of Abigail (the inimitable Dolly De Leon, whose name you should memorize if you don’t already know her), the ship’s toilet manager whose blink-and-you’ll-miss-it presence underscores the audience’s culpability for similarly ignoring its staff. But on the island, she proudly becomes the captain, since she’s the only one who can fish, cook, and build a fire. Abigail’s newfound authority comes with certain bonuses, such as “cutie pie” Carl’s solo company on her private lifeboat where he exchanges sexual favors with her for packs of pretzels for himself and Yaya. Talk about beauty having currency …
It would be too lazy, even misguided to view Triangle Of Sadness—a beauty industry term that refers to one’s wrinkles between the eyebrows—as a straightforward “eat the rich” satire. Östlund’s genius lies in his stubborn refusal to be didactic, making sure that our sympathies continually shift throughout the narrative as its power structures evolve. Even so, one thing that stays constant is the feeling of antsy (yet oddly funny) discomfort, often amplified by incessant sounds like buzzing mosquitoes, crying babies, and screaming donkeys. It’s a stellar film that hits a rare sweet spot as both mainstream, accessible entertainment, and also an undeniably incisive piece of cultural commentary. And best of all, it will keep you on your toes until the sensational final moment of its breezy drift.
35 Comments
I’m always up for a shirtless Harris Dickinson. I remember seeing Beach Rats at OutFest with a crowd of gay men and you could just feel the reverent ogling.
“His chest looks like bongos!”
Beach Rats was actually a pretty good film too, and he was great in it…and hot af(this is my second post oogling a hot guy in a row…I’m thirsty, I guess
Hello, I am seeking to destroy god thanks to all his problems he has besmirched me with. I am not a crank.
Welp, pretty much downloaded the entire goddamn plot, didn’tya? I mean, god DAMN.
Mary Ann or Ginger?
Yes.
Bailey Quarters.
That’s like asking “The millionaire or his wife?”
I will commit unholy murder to see this film.
I will go to a theatre and buy a ticket and/or wait for it to appear on streaming to see this film.
Think of how handy it would have been if this review would have told us when/where we can watch it.
I know we’ve been dealing with Covid for a while now, but I think it’s once again fair to assume that if a reviewer is talking about a new movie, that it’s probably in theatres.
Would have been a bad assumption literally last week when this came out: https://www.avclub.com/hocus-pocus-2-review-bette-midler-kathy-najimy-sarah-1849593859
And they specifically said that is was streaming, which is how it should be. Default is theatre, and need to mention if it’s on a streaming site.
Uh, no they didn’t. “Streaming” doesn’t appear anywhere on that page. And the only mentions of “Disney+” are in the photo credits. The review talks a couple of times about how HP2 is like a Disney Channel Original Movie, but I don’t really think that should qualify as letting us know it’s only on D+.
If you read “Disney Channel Original Movie”, and don’t understand that it’s on Disney +, I don’t know what to tell ya.
Did you even read the HP2 review? Here are the two DCOM mentions:
“Playing like a big-budget “Disney Channel Original Movie” for the millennial crowd but with a more character-driven narrative, this overdue sequel to the 29-year-old original offers a surprisingly clever and, at times (blushes) heartfelt continuation of the Sanderson Sisters’ bewitching ways.”“And all walk it in a way that conveys they “understood the assignment” here: Make a Goonies-lite, Amblin-adjacent entertainment that recaptures that Disney Channel Original Movie magic without sullying or degrading “the brand.””…I just don’t see how comparing something to a DCOM like this is supposed to let me know that it’s a) streaming on D+ or b) not in theaters at all.
“Disney Channel” != “Disney+”
Big if true
I don’t know about fairness when one is merely seeking accuracy. The writers should note where a movies of tv series is playing or going to play.
I definitely would appreciate if these reviews start including basic information like Where and When to watch, but at least in this case, I have to imagine this is not getting a wide release. Although it did win the Palme d’Or, which did eventually land Titane in a theater near me.Actually I looked it up and this is playing at an independent theater within 25 miles of me in a few weeks. Maybe it will roll out to more theaters throughout the month.
Eh, I like Lung’s idea better.
I will commit unholy dogwalking to see this film. Which is going to take some research.
I caught a recent preview screening of this. Östlund’s movies are all great, but in contrast with the reviewer I find Triangle of Sadness rather less impressive than Force Majeure or (in particular) The Square.In those movies, while heightened to sometimes absurd degrees, the characters and the drama felt fundamentally true and realistic. That’s what gave them their edge. You could recognize (parts of) yourself in them and wonder how you would react if placed in a similar situation.There are some bits like that in Triangle of Sadness as well, in particular an early scene where Carl and Yaya have an argument over a restaurant bill, but for the most part the movie goes for much broader comedy and caricature. Most of the characters are grotesques rather than real people you can empathize with (such as the gross and vulgar oligarch from the former East Bloc, or a snooty British couple who made their fortune selling land mines), and Östlund usually goes for the straightforward joke rather than the subtle ridicule that characterizes his other movies. Some elements of the plot also depend on a massive suspension of disbelief—or rather a recognition that it’s set in a comedic fantasy world, not our reality.
Also, while the film’s story veers and winds from episode to episode so that you’d be hard put at the beginning to predict where it ultimately ends up, these episodes are only loosely connected: the events of one one do not lead inexorably to the next. And within each episode there are few surprises: once you know the setup you can pretty much guess what’s going to happen. The movie lacks the uncomfortable tension, the unnerving doubt and the dynamic pull of events that made e.g. Force Majeure so riveting.Triangle of Sadness is more in the vein of something like The Death of Stalin with added gross-out comedy. It’s a good movie for what it is, but I felt slightly let down.
I wonder how much of this was influenced by watching Hollywood turn Force Majeure into Downhill. From the review and your comment it sounds like this movie is much more a traditional movie comedy, but still more fucked up and weird than anything starring Will Ferrell.
just watched, I thought after the yacht it became a bit of a stinker, and the power dynamic message was kind of ham fisted/lacking (like some recent shitty Twilight Zone episode).
I’m glad you yanks like our boy Ruben. We’re very proud.
Oh this one will be a hard one to watch. Such a tragedy for Charlbi Dean to die right on the cusp of breaking through. Just breaks me when someone dies right at that crucial moment in their career. All the future work, all that potential unfulfilled.
You could not take your eyes off Charlbi Dean in her guest appearances on s1 of Black Lightning
I thought that the sickness ocurring across the passengers wasn’t as much typical sea sickness and was due more to the food having spoiled, as the chef said on the phone call when they were ordered to go swimming that the food would go bad.Also, no the set was absolutely not actually rocking during the big centerpiece. My girlfriend pointed out that while everything was shaking wildly, the drinks in the glasses were perfectly still, then for the rest of the sequence we couldn’t stop noticing it any time a glass was on screen.
The food was bad because the crew wasn’t allowed to cook it because they had to go swim!
“But the food…will be bad.”
Best line of the movie.
A pile of pretentious crap. Long stretches of tedium.
This movie is a mess, and I’m not just talking about the puke-stricken hallways. It tries to be bitingly funny, but its attempts at humor outside of Dimitry just don’t land, and it turns into an entirely different movie in the third half with no ending. The Square was very weird as well, but at least it was coherent.
This review dutifully avoids the fact that this movie DOES NOT HAVE AN ENDING. Its grade for me plummeted from a B to a D when Östlund pulled that cowardly pretentious cop-out shit. That is not an ending. That is not even the idea of an ending. It’s a director who’s apparently writing the movie as he goes along, who’s painted himself into a corner and has no idea what to do. Pitiful.
That all said, the middle section is pure magic. By itself, it’s unimprovable. It should be the movie. Stay on that goddamn yacht—that was where the gold resides. The first section is snoozy & needless, adds nothing, wastes time, and obviously should’ve been cut. It would make this overlong film more manageable—I can’t imagine watching the whole ass in one sitting. By the end the shouting German woman actually gave me a headache. All you need to do is isolate that middle section; fast-forward to it, and as soon as it’s over, immediately turn the movie off. That’s the best way to experience Ruben Östlund’s Triangle of Sadness (2022).