Triangle of Sadness

With The Square in 2017, and now Triangle of Sadness, Ruben Östlund has joined a select group of directors who've won the Palme D'Or with consecutive films (Billie August and Michael Haneke being the others, though nine directors have won twice). Rarified air. Add 2014's Force Majeure and that makes up a critically lauded hat trick. With only Force and Triangle to go on (I've been meaning to see Square but, shit, I've been meaning to do loads of stuff), Östlund seems to be furrowing a mildly provocative, fluffy bête-noire niche for himself, not fully blown Von Trier, but it's early doors.

The title refers to the space between your eyes and the top of your nose, and has something to do with modelling pouts, as far as I could tell. The leads, Harris Dickinson (Carl) and Charlbi Dean (Yaya) are gorgeous, young fashion models - Yaya is also an 'influencer', which is the reason they find themselves on a luxury super boat, fraternising with other disgustingly opulent guests. You'll probably have guessed by now that this is a satire on the rich and irritating, though not necessarily a successful one.

It's hard to sympathise with any of the characters, which is fine, but it's also hard to be all that interested in anybody either, and that's more problematic. Carl is a querulous prat, Yaya is a petulant 'me-me' and Woody Harrelson's captain is a feckless blank, presenting as an 'American Marxist'. Some characters slowly begin to win us over once the final third kicks into gear - Yaya, in particular, develops some personality - but by then it's too little, too late. Most of the incidental characters on the boat are pretty thickly trowelled; self-made, drunken Russian oligarchs; extremely well-heeled British pensioners who just happen to be weapons dealers; and oddly, a German stroke victim who can only say 'In den Wolken' (admittedly, that character isn't as prototypical as the others, but she isn't really given much to do other than rant those words).

There's one uproarious sequence in the dining room of the boat during choppy seas - cue wall to wall vomming, followed by some rear-ended, liquid Krakatoas to raise the grotesquery. The audience I saw it with certainly enjoyed it, though I reckon Östlund laid it on a bit thick (if you pardon the imagery). This section is nearly the culmination of the second act, and each of the acts of Triangle (3 points?) are clearly set out to be appreciated in slightly different ways. In my case, the three viewpoints were; Act 1: bemusement; Act 2: discomfort; and Act 3: annoyance. So clearly, 'appreciate' is the wrong word, but I genuinely think Östlund would be satisfied with the affect his film has on audiences. Like it or not, it gives us something to chew over and argue about.

The third act, maddeningly dispensable final scene aside, runs the gamut of influences, from Buñuel and Renoir, to Wertmüller and William Golding. It's a farcical 'chickens coming home to roost' fantasy that many of us welcome (or is it?), but as I said above, it's very hard to give a monkey's about anyone. By this stage, I just didn't care, and that's a shame because there are moments of promise scattered throughout. 

Triangle of Sadness is showing at the Somerville Auditorium at UWA for the Perth Festival from Jan 2 - 8.

See also:

Now, I can't remember if I've seen all of these or not, but here are a few satires about class divides: Jean Renoir's fantastic The Rules of the Game (1939), Luis Buñuel's The Exterminating Angel (1962), Jean-Luc Godard's Weekend (1967), and Lina Wertmüller's Swept Away (1974).

The Banshees of Inisherin

Criminally, this is only Martin McDonagh's FOURTH feature, but it's vying with In Bruges as his best yet. In fact, were it not for the uneven mess of Seven Psychopaths, he'd be on a brilliant run, including Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. The Banshees of Inisherin reunites Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell in a story of two mates, Colm and Pádraic, on an Irish island in the 1920s, trying to deal with some friendship issues. In a nutshell, Colm decides one day that he's had enough of his mate and his attempts to keep Pádraic at arm's length become increasingly.....inventive. Farrell and Gleeson are brilliant; Pádraic's outburst in J.J.Devine's public house is a super scene, and I reckon this film might be the highpoint of his gathering storm as a genuine talent. His esoteric choice of films going back a few years are indicative of this - probably since 2015's The Lobster, and running through The Killing of a Sacred Deer, The Beguiled and After Yang. Gleeson's scene in the confessional is another unmitigated peach.

Now, as front-facing as the lads are in this, I reckon Kerry Condon as Siobhán is the star. She's outstanding as Pádraic's unmarried sister, the sensible anchor to all the coming shenanigans, and the film came to a natural conclusion for me when her story ended. All the petty shit with the man-children of this inbred island wears her down until she finally does one to the mainland, and understandably so. Barry Keoghan as dimwitted Dominic deserves praise, as do the priest and the cop, the publican and the gobby shopkeeper. The scene where she's digging for 'news' from Pádraic is magnificent. Pretty fine cast all round.

Niceness, and the nebulous nature of it, is a central theme, but for all the bleak solemnity about relationships and the inevitable strains upon them, this is a wickedly funny film. I can't recall laughing so much at the cinema this year (maybe Violent Night?) One unnamed patron* even likened it, maybe ungraciously, to a feature length Father Ted episode. I'll have to take his word for it. There are great lines of dialogue throughout and the fantastic Irish accent doesn't hurt the delivery of them ("One boring man? You're all feckin' boring!")

McDonagh infuses his film with familiar notes - mundane, yet bloody injuries (reminiscent of In Bruges), burning buildings (Three Billboards), animals in key scenes (Seven Psychopaths), sudden moments of shock (all of the above) - and the island scenery, shot by Ben Davis, is spectacular and lovely, not to mention Carter Burwell's gorgeous score. The out-of-sight, out-of-mind civil war across the water is a clear metaphor but it's not played too heavily, and only really operates as an off-screen reflection of the 'battle' between the leads. The banshees of the title may refer to the old 'ghoul', Mrs. McCormick (Sheila Flitton), who utters Macbeth-ian shite, hinting at the likely continuance of the 'beef' between Colm and Pádraic. 

But c'mere to me now, I could probably watch this film every year until the banshees wail for me. It's a fantastic delight.

The Banshees of Inisherin opens on Dec 26th at the Luna and Palace cinemas. 

See also:

Obviously, check out all of McDonagh's previous work, but also, this film could be seen as a modern (?) version of John Ford's The Quiet Man (1952). 

* It was Merv.

Return to Seoul

Return to Seoul is a quietly moving drama, written and directed by Davy Chou, a Cambodian/French filmmaker. It runs through a few years in the life of Freddie, played by 'plastic artist', Park Ji-Min. She's Korean by birth but was adopted out to a French family as a baby and at the start of the film, finds herself back in Seoul. On the face of it, she's there simply because a flight to Tokyo was cancelled, but we get an inkling that the desire to reconnect with her biological parents is working its way to primacy. Freddie can't speak Korean when she first arrives so she latches onto a young woman who works in the guest house she's staying at, Tena (Guka Han). The relationship is a curious one - polite, caring Tena seems to find chaotic Freddie fun....until she doesn't. At one point, during a spiteful night out, Tena tells her something like, "You're the saddest person I've ever met" and this 'slash and burn' style threatens to derail any bonds she may want to foster.

The film jumps forward years at a time and in each segment Freddie changes in one way or another - new boyfriend, more hectic lifestyle, new job, etc. Underlying all this flux is the nagging emptiness of absent parents, there, but not available. Like most people, I wasn't adopted and so I'll never know how those who were feel, but I reckon this film gets as close as any to illustrating the emotional turmoil involved. Freddie is all over the place, fun and energetic one minute, destructive and cold the next. If we weren't privy to her background, we'd likely find her a pain in the arse, or worse. Yet, her snarky, pernicious behaviour comes across as completely understandable. Ji-Min hasn't acted in a film before and it shows in her unfettered, naturalistic performance. Her glares are priceless.

There is a lot going on in the film, much of it elliptical, leaving some details for us to winkle out. This comfortable attitude to the narrative is possibly due to the director's intimacy with the story. Chou has said he developed this idea when a friend of his told him about her adoption, while they were attending the Busan Film Festival together. It seems some of the awkward family moments in the film mirrored their reality, hence the authenticity and at times, the oddly tense humour. Chou lets a few scenes run a bit long but I wouldn't say there was much wastage here, everything we see is required to progress the story, or more saliently, Freddie's arc. She's the focus, and so is the whole international adoption system by extension.

Return to Seoul plays at the Somerville Auditorium at UWA for the Perth Festival from Dec 12 - 18.

See also:

Some bits reminded me of Julia Ducournau's, Titane (2021), especially an extended dance scene. There were also very slight hints of Apichatpong Weerasethakul's Memoria (2021), which played at last year's Perth Fest.

Violent Night

First up - great title, Violent Night. Combine these words on the poster with a bedraggled, blood-encrusted Santa Claus, chewing a candy cane like Eastwood chewed his cigar, and you've done half the job of selling the film. It also helps that it's a riot of inappropriateness - vomit, piss and (reindeer) shit all occur within the first few minutes, with the blood and gore soon to follow. Season's greetings to all!

David Harbour plays Santa, disenchanted and ready to hang up the sack, when he drunkenly stumbles into a criminal heist situation at a luxurious mansion. The unimportant upshot is the family matriarch, Gertrude Lightstone (Beverly D'Angelo), has illegally ferreted away a stash of millions in her vault, which boss wrong'un, Scrooge (John Leguizamo) has sniffed out (how? again, not important). The heart, and the cheese, of the film rests with Gertrude's granddaughter, Trudy (Leah Brady) and, to a lesser extent, her separated parents, Jason and Linda (Alex Hassell and Alexis Louder). Aside from the big fella, they're the only likeable characters in the place, by design. 

Well, that's the set-up, and all that's left is to have at it. Here's where the film delivers in spades. The fight scenes are wondrously brutal, inventive and squirm-inducing. There's one scene on a ladder that produced a theatre-wide "UUURRRRGGHHH", quickly followed by roars and giggles. Harbour puts some of his Hellboy skills to good use, and his performance as a whole is exceptional. He plays this iconic role like a washed-up David Mamet everyman, by way of King Lear. With a massive metal hammer. And the weird thing is, he's the most believable character in the film. The production company behind this is 87North Productions, co-run by David Leitch. He's the director of Atomic Blonde, Deadpool 2 and Bullet Train, amongst others, and he has a long CV in the stunt caper. The job of directing this film was given to Norwegian, Tommy Wirkola (of Dead Snow 'fame') but Leitch's experienced dabs are all over Violent Night.

You may be wondering whether the nice people survive all the carnage, whether the baddies get their lumps of coal and whether Santa re-discovers his passion, and well, yeah, of course they all do, but that's hardly the point of the film. The cliches of past Christmas films are played out to juxtapose with the broken legs and torn off skin, and it all balances out pretty well. There have been a few attempts to grot up Saint Nick (see Bad Santa, Fatman and Finnish effort, Rare Exports) but I reckon this film has knocked them all into the mulcher.

Violent Night is on wide release around the country.

See also: 

There are elements of John McTiernan's Die Hard (1988) and a bloody piss-take of Chris Columbus' Home Alone (1990), though I can't really recommend that, as I haven't seen it.

SPOILERS IN POD!!

(Film stills and trailer ©Universal, 2022)