Carl, a fashion model, and Yaya, a social-media influencer who also works as a model, are a couple. The initial scene in the movie, centred on an argument around who is going to pick up the bill, after their dinner in a posh restaurant, will make you squirm with discomfort, but is, in itself, a little masterpiece of sarcastic social observation. This is, as it were, the hors d'oeuvre in what is an original satirical drama - and a satire where food plays a significant part.
Carl and Yaya are invited on a luxury cruise aboard a superyacht in exchange for promoting the trip on social media. From that point onwards, things start going badly wrong all round. The film shows, in a critical and sarcastic light, the interaction between the various characters. The dominant themes are obvious enough, as they interplay with each other: power, wealth, greed, relations between social classes, the meaning of work, relations between the sexes, race-based prejudices that can affect the way that people interact with each other, sentimental relationships, sex, jealousy, stereotypes (also, gender-based), and the impact of the consumer society as well as social media on the behaviour of individuals.
The movie does not glorify any of the things and people it describes: quite the opposite. It is a cruel depiction of Western society, today, essentially. There is a lot of humour in the movie, but it is not easy-to-consume humour. The film touches upon many complex issues and dissects them in a very perceptive manner. It is an excellent film, in my view, which some reviewers appear to have misunderstood, in terms of its meaning. It is both profound and entertaining, which is quite rare. All the actors and actresses are very good; it is sad that the lead actress, Charibi Dean (Yaya), should have died so young, shortly after the completion of the movie.
Apparently this was supposed to be a satire of the appalling behaviour of the rich, and on that front I guess it succeeds. For us as viewers however this means two and a half hours of watching the deeply unpleasant wealthy sociopaths being awful, and this isn't presented ironically or in a humourous way (this really isn't a comedy), it's just obnoxious and incredibly tedious.
The movie is split into three distinct acts and to be fair it does become fractionally more interesting as it progresses. The first is one of the dullest first acts I've ever seen in a movie where almost nothing happens. The second is so bizarre it could be in a Monty Python movie, minus the laughs. And the third was mildly interesting occasionally, but still completely skippable.
I read that this movie was an interesting companion piece to The Menu. It really isn't. That movie actually has a story and a compelling antagonist in Ralph Fiennes, and an editor too who keeps things moving along. Triange of Sadness has none of those, it's just dull, annoying, and completely pointless. Save yourself two and a half hours and skip this mess.
Apprarently this got an 8 minute standing ovation at the palm d'or.
They must have been on something.
This is not a comedy or a satire.
Dull pointless and loved by the lovies this is one to avoid.
Two exciting things are happening at the halfway point in this movie. Aboard a yacht, a capitalist and a communist have an intellectual debate of politics, loaded with such witty lines as, “I’m not a communist, I’m a Marxist.” At the same time, while they publicly argue, the rest of the yacht is comically throwing up all over the teetering vessel. This is the best way to sum up the nature of Triangle of Sadness; it’s a movie that wants to be about the class divide but delivers it in simple-to-read passages with a coating of the blunt and grotesque. The arguments for communism might go over some heads, but you’ll never forget the scene of a woman sliding around the bathroom while she struggles to make her puke land in the toilet.
This film marks the English-language debut of director Ruben Östlund, better known for his satires Force Majeure and The Square. Given the uneven nature, this film doesn’t quite match the same levels. Though there’s a mess of an ensemble, the two characters focused on the most are an awkward couple, comprised of the model Carl (Harris Dickinson) and social media influencer Yaya (Charlbi Dean). They’re set up to be vain and petty, needing a significant shift in the power dynamic, given how uncomfortable Carl feels for not meeting up to standards and being trapped in a relationship with little passion. It’s more for looks and views than anything else.
By act two, the couple is on a luxury yacht where they’re in for a disastrous voyage. While their relationship worsens, the guests are even worse. The stuffy elite talks about their weapons deals and complain about dirty sails. The crew more or less takes their mistreatment for the sake of money, even giving a motivational cheer specifically about money, in case it wasn’t obvious why these people put up with rich people's crap. The vessel's captain, Thomas (Woody Harrelson), spends more time drinking than captaining. The only thing that brings him out of his stupor is to engage in a feisty political debate with the eccentric capitalist Dimitry (Zlatko Buric). The puke scene follows, perfectly punctuating the situation's absurdity and punishing the upper class.
The third act turns the tables completely, where the remaining passengers are stranded on an island. As one working-class woman assumes control, the rich beg for help. This leads not only to the upper class being chucked to the bottom regarding survival but a massive shift in the gender hierarchy when women are more in control. The resulting chaos is vicious and unforgiving, refusing to give any easy resolution, even when one is presented in the finale.
The whole film feels like an unfocused pastiche in class differences. One would not expect this to be a film about puking people on a yacht based on the extended first act that mostly centers on a male model's life. It plays more like an anthology series for the different tones and levels of comedy that brew forth, constantly twisting its narrative to wherever the winds of inspiration take Östlund. Sometimes it works, and there are extra juicy bits of dialogue in between savage satire. Other times the film becomes so weirdly stuffy in its message that an air of pretension washes over the picture occasionally. Although a mixed bag from this angle, it’s surprising how much of the film works on this level.
Triangle of Sadness is more or less baby’s first dark-comedy of class satire. It’s easy enough to digest in its direct messaging while being off-kilter enough to appreciate the spectacle. It’s not going to be everybody’s glass of champagne, but it still has its moments of charm, including a scene of a vomiting woman who can’t stop drinking champagne in between throwing up.