Sophie Hutchison
One of the first scenes in Rüben Östlund’s Triangle of Sadness takes place at a fashion show. Carl, a struggling male model, has just been bumped off of his front row seat in favour of some Swedish influencers and sent to sit in – mortifyingly – the third row. His girlfriend Yaya, also a model (a higher-paid one, at that), stomps down the runway, whilst neon screens behind her blare out slogans like “EVERYONE IS EQUAL” and “LOVE NOW.”
Of course, not everyone is equal. How can they be, when poor Carl’s all the way back there in the third row with the nobodies? Triangle of Sadness has been described as a class satire, but its central question is more nuanced: in any given situation, who has power, and why?
“Beauty is one of the few things that can make you climb in class society”
The film’s first act, which centres around Carl and Yaya, explores the power structure of the fashion world. Östlund referred to it as an “upside-down pyramid” in which, unlike most careers, women earn significantly more than men. Östlund has stated he was fascinated with the idea of “beauty as currency,” and the fact that many models come from working-class backgrounds, with their good looks permitting them entrance to the exclusive world of the rich and famous.
“Beauty is one of the few things that can make you climb in class society outside of money and education,” he said.
And whilst beauty might allow you to build a career as an influencer and get an all-expenses-paid trip on a luxury yacht like Carl and Yaya, it’ll hardly help when you’re stranded on a desert island, a situation in which the characters find themselves by the third act. The film has three clear-cut acts that serve as three ‘chess-boards,’ in which power structures are examined. In act two this ‘pyramid’ is perhaps at its most literal, with the mega-rich guests lapping up the sun on the top deck, the middle-class staff who can’t wait to receive hefty tips below them, and in the very bottom of the ship, the lowly cleaners.
“genuinely shocking”
Triangle of Sadness marks Östlund’s second Palme D’or win, with his previous film, The Square, also winning Cannes’ top prize in 2017. Mark Kermode points out that Triangle of Sadness lacks the grit that The Square has, even in its tensest moments. Comparing the central scene from The Square (in which a performance artist behaving like a gorilla attacks several guests at a dinner party) with the central scene from Triangle of Sadness (when the ship is battered by the elements and the guests on board are taken violently ill), he says it’s clear that only one is “genuinely shocking or challenging.” Whilst that’s true, and perhaps Östlund picks a fairly easy target in taking on the rich and the beautiful in his latest film, it sort of feels like it doesn’t matter if it lacks the astuteness and subtlety of his previous film. Triangle of Sadness takes all the humour of The Square and ramps it all the way up, making for a raucous and hilarious viewing experience.
“perhaps bring a sick bag if you’re squeamish”
As for the performances, Harris Dickinson delivers quite possibly the funniest performance of the year as Carl. Brilliantly deadpan, I find it difficult to believe that he was even aware of just how hilarious practically every aspect of his performance was. His counterpart, the late Charlbi Dean, also delivered a layered performance as Yaya, offering what could have been a two-dimensional, clichéd role sensitivity and nuance. Dolly DeLeon seems to have found her breakout role in cleaner-turned-matriarch Abigail, and rightly so – her performance is yet another highlight.
Is Triangle of Sadness a little on the nose? Yes. Is it an absolute riot? Also yes. Whilst some of its gross-out humour could be found in your typical box-office comedy, the film retains a sharp satirical edge and is unceasingly stylish throughout. See it with the largest crowd possible, and perhaps bring a sick bag if you’re squeamish. And who knows, you might find yourself thinking more about the people around you and how you interact with them; feeling guilty when you pass by that homeless person on the street, or when you tut at the bin men for waking you up at 7am.
And maybe it’s awfully bourgeois and ironic that it takes a Palme D’or winning, arthouse film to make you come to that realisation – but maybe that’s Östlund’s point.
Featured image courtesy of Mohamed Masaau via Unsplash. Image licence found here. No changes have been made to this image.
