Ruben Östlund’s Triangle of Sadness is a film that swallows the rich whole then spits them back out, chewed up and stripped bare. This Palme d’Or-winning satire is a masterclass in controlled chaos, a shipwreck of privilege where the only life raft is your ability to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The film unfolds in three acts each more audacious than the last starting as a razor-sharp fashion-world comedy, morphing into a Gilligan’s Island-meets-Lord of the Flies debacle, and ending somewhere between existential fable and survival horror.

The cast is a symphony of grotesques. Harris Dickinson and the late Charlbi Dean are pitch-perfect as the beautiful-but-hollow influencer couple, their relationship as shallow as the yacht’s infinity pool. But it’s Dolly de Leon who steals the film as Abigail, a toilet manager who becomes the unlikeliest of monarchs when hierarchies collapse. Woody Harrelson, as the yacht’s drunken Marxist captain, delivers a monologue so gloriously unhinged it should be studied in acting schools.

Östlund’s direction is surgical every frame is composed with cruel precision, every punchline lands like a gut punch. The infamous vomit scene (you’ll know it when you see it) is a triumph of practical effects and dark comedy, a sequence so revolting and hilarious it transcends gross-out humor and becomes high art.

If the film stumbles, it’s in its final act, where the satire loses some bite as it shifts from savage comedy to something more contemplative. Some may find the ending abrupt, but that’s the point there’s no neat resolution when examining the rot of late-stage capitalism, only the quiet horror of realizing the game was rigged all along.