Written and Directed by Ruben Östlund
Starring Harris Dickinson, Charlbi Dean, Zlatko Burić, Dolly de Leon
Rated R for language and some sexual content
Runtime: 2 hours, 30 minutes
In theaters October 7 

by Ryan Silberstein, Managing Editor, Red Herring

While the title is explained to us early on as the triangle formed by the space between the eyebrows and the top of the nose, it also points to the movie’s chief thematic concern: the intersection between economic injustice and gender inequality. The film’s three parts all take place on a metaphorical carousel going around and around on these topics. While the economic point of view comes across as crystal clear as tropical seawater, the gender politics here are as murky as the mix of bodily expulsions flowing through the corridors the luxury yacht centerpiece in the middle act. 

Where Triangle of Sadness starts is with male models auditioning for a new luxury brand campaign. We are informed that they make far less than their female counterparts, and that cheap brands have happy models while more expensive labels use brooding ones. “Look down on your consumers,” they are instructed. From there, it follows one of the male models, Carl (Harris Dickinson) and his model/influencer girlfriend Yaya (Charlbi Dean) on a date at a nice restaurant. The two have a spat over the check, which spills over into a nightlong argument about gender roles. Carl wants things to be more financially equal between them, Yaya says it’s not about the money. He later mutters about her status as a feminist. While the argument seems evenhanded, it’s told from Carl’s perspective, giving him the upper hand narratively. Even at the fashion show we see, “We are equal” is trotted out along with other empty slogans around climate change and social progress. But what does equality mean?

These themes continue to intersect as Carl and Yaya take a luxury cruise mostly populated by older, white rich people. Dimitry (Zlatko Burić) entertains them at dinner by boisterously proclaiming himself “the king of shit” thanks to his fertilizer monopoly, while another couple bemoans how a U.N. ban on landmines impacted their personal fortune so they had to switch to manufacturing hand grenades instead. The standout sequence (as featured heavily in the film’s marketing) is a captain’s dinner that turns into mass seasickness thanks to stormy waves. The third act is where the movie gets in trouble, as it never reaches the dark comedy highs of that sequence at any point after, mostly recycling those dynamics in new contexts without revealing much more about its characters or how their gender or economic class impacts their fortunes. 

Ruben Östlund is no stranger to these topics, but Triangle of Sadness is far less novel than The Square, where the satire felt fresh and innovative. The yacht captain (Woody Harrelson) trading pro-communist/pro-capitalism quotes with Dimitry is certainly fun, but the overall assessment feels like a freshman economic philosophy survey at best. There’s some hinting at the difference between the “ugly” rich flush with cash and assets and the “pretty” rich–influencers who get free stuff and how that doesn’t actually allow them to build wealth–but it never amounts to anything larger. Same with the yacht’s crew who work themselves into a frenzy at the prospect of tips from their wealthy clients. Having a ferocious takedown of the rich would be a satisfying substitute for substance here, but for a 2.5 hour movie, there just isn’t enough of either to justify the runtime. Unlike Sorry to Bother You or Parasite, Triangle of Sadness doesn’t pair its satire with enough substance or plot twists to be worth the journey.