TRIANGLE OF SADNESS - CAMBRIDGE FILM FESTIVAL
Full on Decadence on Board
Prepare to be entertained , scandalised and hugely amused at an ambitious tilt at our society, its comical acquisitiveness, its shallowness and its deep injustice. And all this in a three part story with homage to Blow Up, Shampoo and Lord of the Flies.
A Triangle of Sadness is hugely worthwhile. It begins slowly with an audition for a modelling job. A scathingly camp sarcastic compère patronizes the lovely lads who queue for a chance in the lucrative limelight. The parodic tone is almost too much, the atmosphere as stripped to the waist, the candidates walk the walk in their attempt to join, or in the case of the film’s leading man, rejoin the band of privileged puppets of the fashion industry. How much of this heavy handed superficiality could we take? Fortunately not much. The scene shifts to the glamorous candidate out for an expensive dinner with his coquettish girlfriend. Who pays the bill is the centre point of their eventual fall out, and handsome Carl (Harris Dickinson) fails to recognise the manipulative core of his beloved Yaya ,played with consistent brilliance by Charlbi Dean. She is an Influencer and the couple join a luxury cruise for free - the only proviso is that Yaya must be photographed round the clock, to pay her way.
Part 2. The film takes a riotous turn. Nothing could prepare us for the sheer preposterous of the fellow cruisers. The film blurb tells us Director Ostlund ‘cares about people’ but certainly not this set of Dickensian, no Ben Jonsonian grotesques as they swill down champagne, humiliate the cruise staff and stuff themselves with fine dining. Except that hilariously the gala dinner is scheduled for a night of storms where Woody Harrelson makes his first appearance as the Captain - hitherto just a slurred voice from inside his cabin where the sounds of clinking bottles make is clear that all is not well aboard HMS De Luxe.This is a great memorable performance as he drinks his way calmly through the Gargantuan feast that degenerates into a sea of collapsed dignity and waves of vomit - and worse as the lavatories explode. It is beyond outrageous and massively funny with vignettes of pomposity from the elderly Britsh couple who have lovingly made their fortunes through land mine manufacture and the unspeakably vulgar Russian oligarchs with their blousy mistresses . Here is a modern version of Jean Luc Godard’s Traffic, or Frederico Fellin’s And the Ship Sailed On. Neither has the humour of this film nor its enjoyable blend of tragic seriousness and sober reflection. As the Captain turns his microphone to a broadcast about socialism and berates his passengers as a bunch of tax dodging degenerates, the audience was practically cheering.
Part Three is the Island shipwreck where the toilets manageress plays the part of The Admirable Crighton, and shades of resourcefulness, privilege turned upside down and the gorgeous boyfriend surrenders to a role as a sexual plaything, whilst still he maintains his earnest lovable wish to do the right thing. The film ends with a sinister question mark. The journey to that dénoument is well worthwhile. And to think I imagined this film would be tedious.
By the way, neither the mise en scène as read by the Arts rep, nor the brochure resumé come anywhere near an accurate description of this complex film It is not an exposé of the modelling world, it does not reveal the lives of the rich as anything but squalid and it had a huge moral backbone all the way through its two and a half hour run.
