Triangle of Sadness (2022)

Triangle of Sadness is the rare satire that doesn’t just poke fun at wealth and beauty—it gleefully flips the whole table and watches what people do when the rules of status stop working. Ruben Östlund stages the film like a glossy postcard that curdles into something ferociously funny and uncomfortably revealing, with set pieces so audacious you’ll laugh, wince, and then laugh again because you can’t believe he went there. The ensemble is razor-sharp, but Dolly de Leon in particular brings a grounded, quietly commanding presence that turns the movie’s social games into something you can’t look away from. Fair warning: it’s gross at times and proudly mean-spirited in its humor, so if you don’t enjoy cringe, cruelty, or bodily-function chaos, it may not be your cruise—but if you do, it’s exhilarating.

Triangle of Sadness is aiming for a big, ugly laugh at wealth, vanity, and power—first in glossy influencer-land, then in a luxury-cruise pressure cooker, and finally in a survival scenario that flips the social order. The problem is that the satire often feels like it’s underlining its own punchlines: scenes run long, ideas repeat, and the message can be so blunt you may feel lectured rather than entertained. It’s also not a “fun” dark comedy so much as an endurance test at times, with a famously gross stretch that’s meant to be cathartic but will absolutely repel some viewers. If you enjoy mean-spirited social skewering, committed performances, and watching status games get dismantled in public, you’ll find it memorable; if you want subtlety, tight pacing, or characters you can root for, this may be two-and-a-half hours of your life you won’t get back.