Triangle of Sadness movie review: Eat the rich and then regurgitate them back up

Triangle of Sadness features the wildest scene you’ll see on a screen this year – one where pandemonium and vomit reigns.

Triangle of Sadness is ready to eat the rich. Picture: Sharmill

If someone tells you to watch a movie called Triangle of Sadness because it had won some ritzy film festival prize for its Swedish director, you might get a different impression of what it is.

The title doesn’t effectively sell how chaotically funny and eviscerating Ruben Ostlund’s social satire is, so if you have qualms because it sounds like it could be some sombre, depressing thing, rest assured it’s not.

Although, the gaping chasm of wealth inequality is still deeply, deeply depressing.

But if we can’t solve it, we can at least make fun of it – you can’t fix what you can’t see. And if you fail to see the absolute arbitrary absurdity of the uber-rich and the uber-privileged, then you’ll have missed the point – and Ostlund is not aiming for subtle.

Triangle of Sadness is, at times, like Succession on an acid trip. It goes one step further than the TV series that already voraciously eats the rich, by regurgitating back up all their nonsense.

Triangle of Sadness is in cinemas from Boxing Day. Picture: Fredrik Wenzel/Sharmill

Triangle of Sadness has one of the wildest scenes you will witness on screen this year – a sustained, committed sequence where pandemonium and vomit reigns. And it’s both revolting and triumphant. You will howl with laughter and then you will gag in disgust – possibly at the same time. That’s an achievement.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

Triangle of Sadness is structured in three distinct acts, and Ostlund cleverly escalates the tension with each part as it moves between spaces, but it largely follows Yaya (the late Charlbi Dean) and Carl (Harris Dickinson).

Yaya and Carl are models and influencers in a mutually beneficial relationship where their own narcissism goes unnoticed by their counterpart. An early scene in a restaurant in which they argue about money and the bill is supremely awkward, but it’s just the appetiser for what’s to come.

Being rich looks so fun! Picture: Fredrik Wenzel/Sharmill

The couple are invited on an exclusive cruise on a luxury yacht, where they’re surrounded by characters such as a Russian oligarch, weapons manufacturer and socially awkward tech millionaires.

Attending to their every ludicrous demand are a crew of white-uniformed staff, who are caught between their jobs and the clients, such as a guest who instructs every crew member to go for a swim.

The yacht is captained by Thomas (Woody Harrelson), an American socialist whose soaring inebriation only adds to the manic atmosphere, especially when at the captain’s dinner, a ferocious storm causes anarchy.

This is where the aforementioned vomit scene occurs and it is glorious, a masterful piece of art that could be displayed in a modern art museum as an installation. Because when it comes to eating the rich, there is nothing like seeing them comprehensively sprayed with every indulgence – lobster, caviar and the rest – they gobbled down.

Woody Harrelson in Triangle of Sadness. Picture: Fredrik Wenzel/Sharmill

The final act – which does not bear spoiling – really drives home Ostlund’s point about the manufactured nature of our social strata and how power dynamics rely on obsequious kowtowing as much as it does the menacing dominance of wealth and control.

Ostlund is known for his razor-sharp satires, having stamped his authority with earlier works Force Majeure and The Square, both of which explored privilege in different settings. They were both expertly crafted and unsettling.

Usually, the Swede commands audiences with a raised eyebrow, but with Triangle of Sadness, it’s more like a neon sign. So, it may be a more extreme approach, but it’s a highly entertaining and potent movie.

Rating: 4/5

Triangle of Sadness is in cinemas from Boxing Day

Originally published as Triangle of Sadness movie review: Eat the rich and then regurgitate them back up