Triangle of Sadness is a gilded, yet satirical, retelling of William Golding’s 1954 novel Lord of the Flies. Social hierarchies disappear and are reshuffled when a group of people are stranded on an island.
But what is a triangle of sadness? In the film, it is the space between one’s eyebrows (often filled with Botox), which is an indicator of emotion.
The film follows the glamorous lives of two influencer fashion models: Carl, played by Harris Dickinson, and Yaya, played by South African Charlbi Dean (who died in August). Through their relationship, director Ruben Ostlund questions gender roles and economic positioning and how social status is valued more than equality.
Ostlund takes audiences on a luxury yacht cruise on which the passengers represent different spheres of power in modern society: a capitalist Russian oligarch with global influence is juxtaposed with the American socialist captain. An English couple represents colonial empires which profit from war, while Carl and Yaya are Instagram models who reap the rewards of their social capital.
His juxtaposition of cerebral social commentary with a glossy perfume ad-like aesthetic exposes how equality is not valued as much as wealth, toughness and prestige.
While on the yacht, strict roles and hierarchies are upheld by the guests and crew but once the yacht sinks, and survivors reach the island, wealthy guests no longer have influence and the yacht’s uptight stewardess can no longer control employees. The social order, which up until this point had mirrored that of society, is turned on its head — an inverted triangle. The poor majority are now at the apex because they have the skills to hunt and defend themselves.
Triangle of Sadness reminds us that wealth and power are merely social constructs. Just because you are in the same space as the rich and powerful, does not mean you are rich and powerful. It also speaks to the power of glamour. You might look wealthy with your designer gear but be unable to pay the bills.
The film shows how almost every issue our society faces is interwoven and can be traced to those in power. Those with money and power often turn to philanthropy to clear their consciences because of their destructive path to extreme wealth.
It’s almost ironic Triangle of Sadness won a Palme d’Or at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival because those who attend the festival are the glamorous wealthy 1% that the film criticises.
The idea that power corrupts, and those with power will always treat less privileged individuals as commodities, is nothing new and Triangle of Sadness does not add anything to this narrative but the film is surprisingly good — multilayered, without being confusing. — Kimberley Schoeman
Let me start by saying I am not a fan of satirical films, however, I was pleasantly surprised by Triangle of Sadness, which took home the Palme d’Or Award at this year’s Cannes Film Festival.
Despite the humorous nature of the film, it offers interesting perspectives on issues such as standards of beauty, class, gender and race.
For instance, when the first of the three acts opens, we are introduced to two models who are dating. Carl (Harris Dickinson) and Yaya (Charlbi Dean) are enjoying dinner at a restaurant. After some time passes, with the bill sitting on the table, Carl notices Yaya has no intention of paying it, despite having promised to do so the night before.
An argument ensues, sparking a discussion around gender roles and standards in relationships. I found this part of the film interesting — I enjoy conversations about double standards when dating. However, it’s the simplicity with which director Ruben Ostlund raises this kind of debate that makes this movie engaging.
It is predominantly set on a yacht to which the two models have been invited, with a group of wealthy people, in order to post about the luxurious trip.
The yacht sinks, marooning guests and staff on an island.
What piqued my interest was the way the director shows the lavish life the wealthy passengers are enjoying out on the deck, while the staff members work to meet their frivolous needs.
You clearly see the stark contrast between the wealthy and the not-so-wealthy.
One other element that intrigued me was seeing how Ostlund positions these two different groups of people against each other — many of the rich passengers having attained their income through generational wealth, while the crew on the lower levels of the yacht have to work for a living.
Ostlund uses exaggeration to drive home the point. For example, there is an elderly couple who claim to have made their money through grenades and a man who declares that he made his from fertiliser.
The director plays with the idea that the wealthy don’t have to make any meaningful contribution to society, while those who serve them work tirelessly for a pittance.
However, what was for me the main message of the film was illustrated in a long, disgusting scene where seasick passengers vomit. It toys with the notion that, regardless of societal standards and wealth, everyone is the same.
Although the film overall was solidly entertaining, it did at times feel overwhelming with its many themes.
Ostlund manages to deliver a witty film which explores serious societal issues. — Bongeka Gumede