Triangle of Sadness.

Triangle of Sadness was a surprise nominee for Best Picture this year, also taking home nods for Best Director and Best Original Screenplay. It’s the first film for writer/director Ruben Östlund since 2017’s The Square, and like that film, it’s a disjointed story that starts out with great ambitions and ends up succeeding most when it focuses on its simpler themes. (You can rent it on amazon, iTunes, etc.)

The triangle of the title refers to the film’s tripartite structure, which I would summarize as “fine, bad, good,” in that order. We start out by following two models, Yaya (Charlbi Dean, who died just before the film premiered) and Carl (Harris Dickinson), who are in a relationship but fight over seemingly trivial matters like who’s paying for the check in a restaurant – she makes far more money than he does, but gender roles dictate that he should pay. She’s also a social media influencer, which leads to an invitation for the two of them to go on a cruise on a luxury yacht, where they meet a bunch of fairly horrible rich people and mostly ignore the obsequious crew, who are themselves divided into the mostly white upstairs staff and the mostly nonwhite cleaning and cooking staff. The ship sinks, and a group of survivors wash up on an island where they have to find a way to survive, but it turns out only Abigail (Dolly De Leon), who barely appeared in the film’s first two parts, has any skills pertinent to staying alive.

The 2022 film and TV cycle was full of “rich people are terrible” themes, from White Lotus to Tár to The Menu, and Triangle of Sadness offers nothing new in this vein, which ultimately is the movie’s undoing. Yaya is vapid and a shallow stereotype of the Instagram model/influencer, right down to having Carl photograph her about to take a bite of a pasta dish that she won’t eat because she’s “gluten intolerant.” The rich people they meet on the boat barely need names, as they don’t even rise to the level of caricatures, with just one of them (Winston) serving some real function beyond being wealthy and horrible, and in that case it’s for a pretty good joke that has a strong payoff later in the segment. It’s only when we get to part three, on the island, that any characters get real development and show some depth, including Abigail, and the script finally makes good use of its ire towards the idle rich. It takes way too long to get to that point, however, and Östlund could have just made the whole movie out of that and given us a better end product.

That middle section, though, is a mess, figuratively and literally – I asked a friend if he’d seen the movie, and he hadn’t, but he asked if I meant the film where everyone throws up on a boat. There’s about ten minutes of people suffering from food poisoning, projectile vomiting around the dining room and in the halls, which is later followed by the ship’s waste disposal system backing up, just in case you weren’t already sufficiently grossed out. It’s a two-minute gag that goes on forever, exacerbated by a dreadful bit where the drunk captain (Woody Harrelson, mostly wasted here) engages in a superficial debate between capitalism and communism with a wealthy Russian oligarch who made his money in fertilizer (or, as he says, “shit”) over the ship’s PA system. It’s unfunny, and consists more of the two men, both thoroughly inebriated, spouting aphorisms from other writers, reminiscent of college students arguing over these subjects because they took one class on Marx and are now experts in the field.

The third section redeems the film to some extent, and ends with multiple points of ambiguity that work extremely well, although it just shows how much better Triangle of Sadness could have been. The Square was also full of interesting ideas, perhaps more so, but also ended with enough ambiguity to soften some of the too on-the-nose aspects of the satire within, right down to the question of whether we should feel any sympathy for the hapless yet arrogant and entitled main character. Here, Östlund’s targets are too easy, and because they’re all stranded on this island – how this is possible, or they could be stuck there for what seems like weeks, when most of these same people were still using their cell phones right when the ship sank – we have some sympathy for all of the characters, since we’re never hoping for any of them to die, or even really to suffer any further. (Not that any of that would be a good thing, either.) There’s a clear intent here to tell us that rich people are useless to society, and while I’m not exactly disagreeing with the point, the final third drifts away from it enough to undermine the first two sections, especially since it’s by far the funniest and best crafted of the film’s parts.

How this film ended up with a Best Picture nomination with a ten-minute scene of emesis and diarrhea is beyond me; I wonder if voters thought this made the film avant-garde. It’s not half as clever as it thinks it is, unfortunately, and other than De Leon, who earned a Golden Globe nomination for her performance, none of the actors has much to work with. Aftersun and Decision to Leave come to mind as two films that the Academy’s voters were at least aware of, having given the former’s Paul Mescal a Best Actor nod and putting the latter on the shortlist for Best International Feature Film, that were both worlds better than this mess. If the final third existed just as a short film, I’d probably extol its merits, and praise the way the ending is open to multiple interpretations, too. Instead it’s just a tantalizing glimpse at what this film might have been if anyone had reined Östlund in. However, I do look forward to his next film, The Trapezoid of Mild Irritation.