Explaining the meaning behind Ruben Östlund’s ‘Triangle of Sadness’
If you’re looking for a contemporary social satire, there are few filmmakers better to turn to than the Swedish director Ruben Östlund, the recipient of two Palme d’Or awards in the past five years and many other honours. Joining an exclusive Cannes club of directors, including Ken Loach, Michael Haneke and Francis Ford Coppola, who has taken home the festival’s top prize more than once, Östlund is an inspiring critical and commercial talent.
For the Swede, there is no subject more interesting in cinema than the study of the human mind, with the director eternally interested in probing the careful layers of the psyche and the expectations of modern society. Such is consistent throughout his entire filmography, but especially true of his two Palme d’Or winners, 2015s The Square and 2022s Triangle of Sadness, with Östlund confirming to The Guardian, “all my films are about people trying to avoid losing face”.
Whilst the meaning of the art satire The Square was a little more nuanced, Östlund’s latest wears its social messaging proudly on its sleeve, drunkenly droning that ‘power corrupts’.
Indeed, this is the core message behind Triangle of Sadness, once you scrape back the copious amounts of vomit and excretion that pervade the story, which charts the journey of an eventful cruise carrying the world’s super-rich. Though the film isn’t as simple as this two-word phrase, Östlund also focuses on the economic systems that keep individuals in the social roles they have aligned themselves with.
From the very start of the movie, when Harris Dickinson’s Carl and Charlbi Dean’s Yaya share dinner in a fancy restaurant and then squabble over who should pay the bill, Östlund toys with social expectations. Should the ‘man’ always pay? Why? More than answering any profound question, this scene merely sets up the director’s wicked talent of writing naturalistic dialogue, crafting characters who look and feel as though they could sit right next to you at a posh restaurant.
The corruption of power and economic privilege comes into full force once the protagonists board the cruise alongside a number of other eccentric individuals, including a quaint British couple who made their money in dealing arms. Creating a clear hierarchy between the spoiled guests and the hardworking deckhands, the film wedges the audience within the power gap, allowing us to observe the humour and social awkwardness resulting from the conceited and self-righteous guests.
Simultaneously, the boat begins to physically decay thanks to the arrival of a choppy storm and the incompetence of the drunken captain, played by Woody Harrelson, who spouts lines from the Communist Manifesto through the intercom as the ship succumbs to sea sickness and human waste a-plenty. All whilst this is happening, one of the ship’s guests Dimitry (Zlatko Burić), challenges his political musings with capitalist beliefs of his own.
Both drunk and delirious, their ramblings make sense but are delivered from the tongues of fools, mocking the absurdity of such social constructs when discussed by those deeply embedded within the trap of consumerist modernity.
Later, this subtextual struggle of social hierarchies and the corruption of power becomes a little more on-the-nose once several of the key characters become deserted on an island after the boat is targeted by pirates. On this island, it is one of the servants, Abigail (Dolly de Leon), who takes charge, given that she’s the only one in the otherwise vain pack of rich guests who actually has any practical skills.
Now, the hierarchy is flipped on its head, and the servant turns into the served, becoming the leader of the small community of survivors who each work for the benefit of the group. However, Abigail isn’t immune from corruption, and soon she is ruling the community with an iron fist, manipulating her islanders, whilst taking possession of Carl, who succumbs to her wishes for safety, food and shelter.
Indeed, power and economic privilege corrupt all, even if you’re purposely trying to avoid its grip. Östlund’s film is about just this, as well as the roles that people carry in a system that helps support the most powerful. Questioning the economic systems of contemporary society and the privileges that come with your own position in the hierarchy, Triangle of Sadness asks its audience whether they can ever overcome their social group or if they’re forever bound by its limitations.
