Poking fun at those in positions of power or privilege is nothing new; in fact, it’s the very foundation of satire. Yet, the 21st century has introduced a new generation of the rich and famous, complete with a fresh set of mannerisms and stereotypes for those on the outside to laugh at. Films such as Triangle of Sadness – a scathing satire centred on models, influencers, and oligarchs – and TV series such as The White Lotus – a darkly comedic take on luxury resorts – suggest that being inordinately wealthy has lost its chic, if fact, it’s actually quite embarrassing.
Triangle Of Sadness, the most recent film from Swedish director Ruben Östlund, centres on a young and attractive couple; male model Carl, and his influencer girlfriend Yaya. They are gifted a trip on a luxury yacht, their fellow passengers including Russian oligarchs, tech millionaires, and an unassuming elderly couple whose wealth comes from weaponry. Add in the staff, who are instructed to do exactly what the guests tell them to, and a potent mix is formed, the perfect recipe for chaos and sharp social criticism. The slapstick climax of the trip is where the intended effect is made plain; while the guests gorge themselves on champagne and fancy food, and then swiftly vomit it back up due to the movement of the ship, the audience’s immediate response is laughter. At that moment, being rich enough to afford caviar does not look glamorous, it looks ridiculous, sparking a sense of anger that these people have such power.
Triangle of Sadness
Similarly, The White Lotus cleverly turns the ‘luxury resort vacation’ into something nightmarish, complete with fighting families, relationship drama, and plenty of awkward dialogue. It parodies the 21st-century rich in a profoundly relevant way, shattering the illusion of the modern American dream, one of obscene wealth and expensive getaways. The message is glaringly obvious: the rich aren’t that happy either. And yet, instead of pitying them, it inspires a sense of schadenfreude; the believable characters, such as Jennifer Coolidge’s pathetically unhappy Tanya, are too removed from the problems of the average viewer to inspire any true empathy.
The White Lotus
The role of the upper echelons has changed entirely in the age of the Internet; no longer are they enigmatic figures looking down at us from their mansions, but instead, they demystify themselves constantly through Instagram stories, autobiographies, and tweets. It’s hard to revere those with status when we are bombarded with gossip about their personal lives that seem so far detached from the struggles of the general public. These often pathetic attempts at relatability usually fall flat, for example, the cover of John Lennon’s Imagine performed by Gal Gadot and other celebrities during the pandemic, which proved just how far out of touch the elite are.
The phenomenon of laughing at the 1% isn’t limited to fictional characters, either. Billionaires are mocked mercilessly on social media sites; even Elon Musk purchasing Twitter for $44 billion could not earn him popularity; it seems to have done quite the opposite. Aside from the inevitable legions of aspiring billionaires who worship these figures, the consensus online seems to be that hoarding that much money makes you fair game to rip to shreds. Especially during a cost-of-living crisis, where many are forced to choose between essentials and heating, it is hardly surprising that people don’t have much sympathy for the seemingly frivolous issues of the rich and famous.
And yet, although it’s hard to admit, part of the pleasure of watching TV and films centred on the wealthy is escapism. It’s far easier to settle down and watch The White Lotus, set on the beaches of Hawaii and Italy than it is to watch a hard-hitting documentary. Perhaps one of the main reasons we love to make fun of the rich is out of envy, whether we admit it or not. Arguably the premise of the media is that people enjoy watching and hearing about those who are better off and better-looking than themselves, and perhaps secretly aspire to that way of life, even if they outwardly condemn it.
Whether it be because of winter blues, the cost-of-living crisis, or simply the age-old resentment of the wealthy, social-class satire is all the rage. Whether anything will change, however, is another question entirely.
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