Directing: B+
Acting: A-
Writing: A-
Cinematography: A-
Editing: B+

It is largely by chance that I wound up watching Triangle of Sadness only one day after Tár, but they make very suitable companion pieces—both of them being overlong notwithstanding. Although Tár is two hours and 38 minutes long, and Triangle of Sadness is two hours and 27 minutes long, the latter does a better job of justifying its own length. This one, at least, is edited largely like an anthology: part one focused on a young straight couple who are both models; part two on a luxury cruise to which they were given free tickets as part of the woman’s deals as a social media “influencer”; and part three on the island to which several of the passengers wind up stranded.

That’s not to say I don’t think Triangle of Sadness couldn’t also have been shortened, mind you. There is no question in my mind that this film also could have had certain scenes either cut in half or excised altogether, and left a film with the same overall effect. That said, this one has a pretty great title, to which we are treated in the opening scenes: Carl (Harris Dickinson) is a beautiful, young, blond male model going on an audition, and his beauty still won’t stop his scrutinizers from asking if he can flatten out his “triangle of sadness”—modest wrinkles between the nose and the eyebrows. One of them offers a side comment about whether it can be treated with Botox.

Triangle of Sadness is also a satire, and one which is, if not more successful than Tár, then certainly more accessible. Tár is capital-A “Art,” a commentary on separating art of the artist; whereas Triangle of Sadness tackles wealth and privilege in a much more straightforward way. I am reminded of the common scenario where it doesn’t matter how wealthy a person is, if someone else exists with a great deal more wealth, then they don’t think of themselves as wealthy. And in Part One, we get an extended scene with Lewis and his also-a-model girlfriend Yaya (Charlbi Dean), at a restaurant, devolving into a tense conversation about their respective salaries and who is typically expected to pay. Much is made of the fact that female models earn more than their male counterparts. Presumably successful models of any gender are doing fine. (Admittedly, the gap is wide.) Suddenly I’m wondering how the actor salaries for the two portraying them compares.

Carl and Yaya are but two characters in a huge ensemble cast for Triangle of Sadness—the triptych of parts also supporting its title—and yet, they are the only two who appear in all three parts. It’s as though the micro view of their two lives navigating the nuances and implications of money is broken out into a wider view once we find them on the luxury yacht, especially once we learn they were given their tickets in exchange for “influencing.”

It’s on the yacht that we meet a huge cast of characters, in a unique sort of upstairs/downstairs scenario. First we see the above-deck crew getting a pep talk: no matter what the guests asks or demand, you always say “Yes, sir!” or “Yes. ma’am!” Okay, but what if one of the many filthy rich guests becomes friendly with a young woman on the crew, and demands that she go for a swim? And further demands that the entire crew go or a swim, right this instant, including the kitchen crew, leaving the seafood being prepared for dinner left out and unattended for as long as that takes?

The best thing about the writing and direction here by Ruben Östlund (Force Majeure) is how eclectic the characters are, and how they all ring true. This applies to our model characters (are they even the protagonists, technically?) as well as the yacht guests who are far more wealthy than they are, and the leadership of the yacht crew, right down to the cleaning staff. A woman referred to multiple times as the “Toilet Manager” winds up playing a critical, deliciously subverted role on the island in Part Three.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself—I must mention Woody Harrelson, who we only see in Part Two, in maybe the least plausible part in the film: the wildly irresponsible, drunkard Marxist captain of the yacht. How the hell did this guy even get that job? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Harrelson has become a reliable go-to character actor, a surprise in retrospect considering the persona of his early career, and yet he is perfectly cast here, and provides a great deal of levity in what ultimately becomes a catastrophically tragic situation.

It’s no spoiler to say that the ship winds up sinking. What matters is how it happens, and the chaotic events that lead up to it, many of which aren’t even related. This mishmash of bad luck also strains plausibility, but plausibility is not what Östlund is going for here. One of the many things I loved about Triangle of Sadness is how much we see of the ship lurching back and forth over the waves of a gathering storm, an extended sequence (both darkly entertaining and deeply disgusting) that is all build-up—only for it to cut straight to the handful of survivors on an isolated beach, before we even see the ship actually sink. That part, while it probably would have been thrilling to see, is not relevant to the story being told here.

I must return again to the comparison to Tár, because it fascinates me that this film has received relatively mixed reviews while Tár is being truly fawned over by critics; I genuinely feel both of them are excellent, each with only very minor flaws. I can’t help but wonder, would the amount of critical praise be reversed had Tár been directed by Ruben Östlund starring Charlbi Dean, but Triangle of Sadness were directed by Todd Field and featured Cate Blanchett? How much does the prestigiousness of pedigree color people’s approach to these films? To me, it’s a wonderful thing that such questions are found in the overlapping pools in which both films are wading.

The acting is no less excellent in Triangle of Sadness, the difference only being that they are not as famous (not even Woody Harrelson, by far the most famous actor here, and he’s only in a third of the film). I was particularly impressed with Harris Dickinson as Carl, with his deceptively sweet and expressive face. Would I have been as impressed if he weren’t also gorgeous? In any event, Östlund deftly weaves many threads of nuance as he also impressively makes clear that none of these people are just “rich idiots”—they aren’t idiots at all, not a single one. As a rule, they even openly acknowledge their lack of basic life skills when put to the test on a deserted island, hence the “Toilet Manager” who takes easy control of the group because she is the only one who knows how to cut and clean an octopus.

All three parts of this film are as compelling as the other, for different reasons. Part Three becomes a sort of adult, psychological Lord of the Flies (it’s kind of a relief there is no onscreen violence), but one in which race and class take on new meaning based on people’s abilities, as do gender roles. In one particularly memorable scene, Yaya is giving Carl pointers on how to stroke the ego of an older person in a leadership role who has invited him to start sleeping in the life boat with her. It puts into sharp relieve what many young women have to deal with in the real world, and what most young men are oblivious to—until young Carl is forced to face it. And then, much to Östlund’s expert storytelling credit, it is some time before the rest of the group, or even us as viewers, find out exactly what is actually going on in that lifeboat.

Sitting through Triangle of Sadness, regardless of its length, is a surprising experience in richly rewarding ways. Its final moments bring things around perfectly, with just the right amount of ambiguity. Honestly, the more I think about this film the more I feel impressed by it.

*Ironically, there is a perimeter of joy in observation of this triangle.*

Overall: A-