On the heels of shows like Billions , Succession, and The White Lotus comes a new biting and provocative satire skewering the lives of the uber-elite. Triangle of Sadness , this year’s Palme d’Or winner at the Cannes Film Festival, puts the vapidity of affluence under a squirm-inducing microscope.

Writer and director Ruben Östlund has a proclivity for the controversial and is unapologetically frank in his criticisms. His ability to play with satire has earned him critical acclaim for The Square , another Palme d’Or winner which tackles social inequality and art culture, as well as Force Majeure , a brilliant and amusing dissection of gender and family.

His latest, and first English-language film, Triangle of Sadness , is no different, tackling themes of privilege and economic disparity. Darkly comedic and unreserved in its commentary, the film is wildly entertaining in its vicious takedown of the super-rich.

Östlund masterfully disrobes human frailty and the many ways in which it manifests – hypocrisy, insincerity, entitlement, greed, demoralization – by composing perfectly timed comedic set pieces. The film, itself, is gluttonous in the way it probes the elitist nature of the wealth, fashion brands, and luxury cruises.

Throughout the film, Östlund’s commentary spans everything from capitalism and Marxist principles to beauty as a form of currency. Beauty and status, like any currency, can be fickle and capsize at any moment. The filmmaker plays with this notion in a manner reminiscent of Luis Buñuel’s The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie . He exposes his characters’ ostentatious displays of affluence and consumption and, ultimately, their weaknesses. 

The film opens with Carl (Harris Dickinson) and Yaya (Charlbi Dean), two models at vastly different points in their careers. Carl struggles to find consistent work while Yaya, who doubles as a social media influencer ( read : obnoxious selfie-taker) struts her stuff down the runway. Östlund targets the vapidity of the fashion world and the superficial nature of luxury brands, as Yaya takes the catwalk against a backdrop flashing “Everyone Is Equal.” 

The pseudo-couple are simply together for the clout – a.k.a. to increase their follower count on social media. Yaya’s influencer status earns her and Carl an invitation aboard a luxury cruise on a yacht full of one-percenters.

Unlike Carl and Yara, all of the ship’s guests are obscenely rich, each accompanied by an exploitative backstory. While Carl snaps pics of Yara posing with food she never intends to eat, the pair meet an array of absurd personalities, like the Russian fertilizer mogul Dimitry (Zlatko Burić), who boasts that he amassed his fortune selling shit.

We’re also introduced to Clementine and Winston, a British couple whose wealth is a product of selling weapons, The Captain (Woody Harrelson), a lazy alcoholic and self-proclaimed “unworthy Marxist,” and Paula (Vicky Berlin), the yacht’s power-hungry chief steward. The characters are a far cry from grounded, so much so that one could say they have their heads “in the clouds,” or “in den Wolken” – a phrase repeatedly spoken by a German passenger unable to say anything else since suffering a stroke.

The privileged flex their power and get high on making impossible demands. In one instance, Dimitry’s wife Vera (Sunnyi Melles) echos the fashion world’s “we’re all equal” sentiment by insisting the entire crew drop what they’re doing to go for a swim. And to be clear, the word “no” is absolutely forbidden when catering to the needs of the deep-pocketed, so the staff must oblige the command.

The dissection of social and economic inequality is not only shown between the wealthy and the staff serving them, but among those employed on the vessel as well. The dichotomy is perfectly captured during a scene where the all-white, upper deck crew is losing their shit, yelling “Money! Money!” while those below deck (all people of color) are hidden away and treated as “less than.”

Using primarily static, medium wide shots, Östlund creates a slow-building tension that completely explodes when the guests attend the captain’s dinner. As the vessel sways with the tempestuous sea, chaos ensues; the motion triggering torrential waves of vomit and diarrhea to spew from the guests. The entire scene plays out like a Monty Python sketch – from the perverse dinner conversations to the toilets regurgitating their contents back onto the guests.

The once elegant score is now punctuated by a cacophony of groaning, retching, and clattering of cutlery. And, really, it’s not much different from what was spewing from the guests’ mouths earlier in the day. Any bit of schadenfreude experienced up until this point quickly evaporates, as Östlund pushes the limits and makes the whole affair feel like a 5-hour root canal without novocaine. Worse, we watch as the “below deck” crew gets the short end of the stick once again, forced to vigorously clean the vomit-coated floors. 

The guests go from drowning in dough to downing in excrement to just plain drowning after the ship becomes the target of a pirate attack. The third and final portion of Triangle follows the surviving passengers, who are shipwrecked and stranded on a secluded island.

Dolly De Leon, who plays crew member Abigail, delivers a standout performance while marooned. Inequality and disparities in power aboard the yacht meant Abigail, a mere toilet manager, was treated as inferior. The systems that allowed inequity to perpetuate on the yacht now lie alongside the sunken ship on the ocean floor. Because, unlike the other castaways, Abigail possesses survival skills – she can fish, cook, and build a fire. And that makes her the pack leader now.

Apart from Abigal, the survivors have nothing valuable to contribute – a Rolex is worthless on a deserted island (unless it provides companionship like Wilson a la Castaway ). Only Carl is in a position to barter, trading sexual favors for shelter and pretzel sticks. 

By extracting his characters from the comfortable and familiar and depositing them into the hypothetical, Östlund challenges social constructs surrounding gender, class, and intelligence. Human nature is scrutinized and notions of equality and division shown earlier in the film are turned upside down.

Östlund engineers and choreographs every scene with a painstaking shrewdness. From the unsettling framing to the inescapable tension magnified by flies buzzing or glasses rattling, the filmmaker crafts every scenario with precision. From start to finish, Triangle of Sadness is clever, comical, and right on the money.

Triangle Of Sadness had its North American Premiere in the Special Presentations section of Toronto International Film Film Festival 2022.

From start to finish, Triangle of Sadness is clever, comical, and right on the money.

Either typing away on my keyboard or nose-deep in a good book. Say hi to me on Twitter @Kkantro.

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