Triangle of Sadness movie review: The bearable absurdity of beings

From quoting Marx to drowning its capitalist class literally in shit and vomit, to having the lower decks uncomplainingly clean the same, to underlining the incompetence of the rich when faced with a real tragedy – there is nothing Ostlund leaves untouched.

The film is more caustic than sarcastic, shallow rather than deep, skimming on a very glossy surface rather than plunging into what lies beneath. It’s not to say that the film isn’t funny, which it is several times; it’s not as funny as it would have you believe.

Plus, in its length that goes beyond 2.5 hours, Triangle of Sadness is trying too many things, with two interesting first and last halves and a sagging middle half on which it dwells the longest.

The common thread through the three halves are a couple, Carl (Dickinson) and Yaya (the late Charlbi Dean), both models. She is successful, he is struggling. Carl hence has to pass auditions where he must demonstrate skills in instant transition from modelling for H&M (a happy, smiling model) to, say, Givenchy (a scowling, offhandish type). The trick, as the model coordinator says, is that the more high value the brand, the more a model must convey that he “looks down upon the consumer”.

Carl is more than a bit frustrated at how things are turning out for him, and a dinner date at an exclusive restaurant with Yaya turns out to be an absurdly long argument over who pays for the bill, gender roles, money, and our awkwardness in talking about it. Carl’s proclamations that he doesn’t want traditional roles between them, and Yaya’s that she wouldn’t mind slipping into one for financial security, set us up for a film that, while giving us a look behind the glossy world of fashion, will also give us a glance looking out from there.

It’s during one such audition that Carl is also told to shed his ‘Triangle of Sadness’ – the area between the forehead where one’s worries show up. Because who needs that in a picture of the perfect man in a perfect world?

However, in its second chapter, Triangle of Sadness completely changes focus and scenery, to a luxury cruise. While Carl and Yaya are onboard the ship – Yaya has won the trip free as part of her role as an “influencer” — this part looks down upon all the rich passengers onboard, and not just the two of them. Carl carries a copy of half-read Ulysses on board, and Yaya a phone with which he needs to capture her every mood for her Insta captive crowd.

There are the usual suspects who will unfailingly and unsurprisingly be shown up for who they are here, including a rich Russian whose millions are hardly above board, a dowdy aged English couple who turn out to be old money and latest weapons, a lonely rich man, the Captain who fancies himself as a Marxist and hence locks himself in drinking, and Paula (a faultless Berlin), the non-pareil stentorian who really keeps this cruise ticking, without a blemish on her shiny visage tanned to almost red, under a mop of short, white hair.

The third part of Triangle of Sadness, on an island, loops back to the themes the film explored in its first chapter. About money, its meaning for those who have and those who don’t have it, gender roles, and sexual and power politics. It may be the most fulfilling part of the film, not least because of the fantastic de Leon as Abigail, the ‘Toilet Manager’ aboard the yacht who finds herself suddenly at the top of the social pyramid in the changed circumstances.

When it’s focused on these smaller groups, and on personal inter-play, where a packet of Pretzel sticks is currency, Triangle of Sadness carries more depth than when it stretches itself thin – serving oysters and Russian caviar as just deserts.

Triangle of Sadness movie cast: Harris Dickinson, Charlbi Dean, Dolly de Leon, Zlatko Buric, Vicki Berlin, Woody Harrelson

Triangle of Sadness movie director: Ruben Ostlund

Triangle of Sadness movie rating: 3 stars