The Scene That Says It All

I managed to view Triangle again yesterday (I’d first seen it late last year) and appreciate the film now far more than ever. I realize I’d forgotten certain episodes of the plot that I’d overlooked in my earlier post. And I've also rethought the mixed-bag geometry of the three-way solution.

In a nutshell, the pocket universe of spiral fractals and Seth Lloyd experiments does seem to offer us a second-degree answer as to the ‘how’ without giving us much about the ‘why’. Unfortunately, it requires us to do hours of carving square pegs to fit those round holes. Having to reconcile the sense of a movie by rebooting its plot 80 times (give or take a couple) makes for far too many hoops to hop. “The Elegant Universe” this is not. And it doesn’t inform (me at least) as to the quantum mechanism that allows Jess to both arrive at the docks for her sailing trip yet still get killed before getting there during her 'pilot loop'.

The purgatory explanation, on the other hand, fulfills the ‘why’ yet skimps on the ‘how’. Perhaps, because it doesn’t need to. After all, when God or the gods is/are pulling the strings the plot holes aren’t ours to fill. His physics are eternally one step beyond. Yet in this scenario we still have to come to grips with when and how Jess has died. If the auto accident is her undoing, from where do we even begin to explain the existence of the sailboat party. The film gives us no cues for eventual references in Jess’ past. Viktor a chef from the restaurant? Sally a teacher from Tommy’s school? Unless of course we opt for everyone’s death at the hands of the storm. Which in turn negates the car crash business and makes for an overall bleah situation.

Finally, the psychotic angle. The schizophrenic Jess in a sense works in all cases. Yet, it doesn’t make for a sufficiently stand-alone theme to carry the movie. Or at least one that’s not already been done to death. Yet it does provide the necessary seeds that frame the development of the rest of the story. And one might even ask if her madness itself is the source of her son’s autism.

In the end, I’ve opted for the limbo-land theory which this film explores like none has ever done. One truly feels what it must feel like to be in a nether world caught between the land of the living and the dead. And unlike the time-travel schema of collapsing possibilities and a finality of redemption (Jess is allowed to move on), the bigger horror of the Sisyphean paradigm is that it will never cease.

The beauty of this film then lies in Christopher Smith’s ability to weave impossible threads into a fabric of the believable. But such an art can only tolerate so much deconstruction before the magic unglues. Unless of course someone can convince me that the number of dead Sallys, dropped necklaces and seagull cadavers are precisely one and the same. And then maybe I'll see these phenomena in a light other than simply reminding us, and Jess, that she has "been there, done that".

The mirror scene. It is my favorite and the one that best exudes Triangle’s sensibilities. The previous Jess has fallen overboard. Our present Jess hears music and finds the room where it is playing. The record is skipping. She lifts the needle and places it at the beginning of the album. The music starts again… and with it the cycle of the loop. The drowning of Jess ended the last loop. But only here, perhaps with a little help from the gods, does she hit the replay of the song of her eternal fate. Simultaneously, Jess awakens on the beach, all the while as she’s coming out of her dream on the sailboat. It is this very gesture which provokes the reappearance of the Triangle’s capsized crew. When Jess crosses the threshold of the mirror it is as if we were witnessing the split in her character. Jekyll or Hyde? The ‘mean’ Jess goes through to greet the starboard arrivals while the ‘good’ Jess exits left on this side of the mirror to greet the port group. In chorus, consecutively or with overlaps? Either way, the symbol is that of symmetrical universes, dual personas. Jess returns to the ‘music room’ and bumps into the phonograph. The needle sticks again. The record plays neither forwards nor backwards. 8:17? For Jess, time has stopped in its tracks once more. The visual responds to the audible as Jess stutters three times before locking into the groove. Her existential rut reforms. Until the next Jess restarts the cycle all over again.

A final comment or two on the opening act that most people seem to downplay for its banality. Beyond the simple introduction of our characters, there’s a good deal of second degree foreboding that isn’t readily apparent on a first viewing. As they take to sea, an aerial shot depicts growing swells alongside an ambiguous musical phrase that already looks to the coming disaster (especially since the digital waves appear to run nearly perpendicular to the natural surge). There’s the deeper meanings of Heather’s “Bad dreams cure you of real life stress” or Jess’ “You did (come to the restaurant just to invite me)? I especially liked Greg’s fitting slip of grammar: “You can’t be everywhere all of the times”. What I found slightly odd was the repeated reference to Victor as the ‘boy’ when he’s barely 8-9 years the junior of the others. Downey seems to insinuate an even homo-erotic affair with his odd, “Do you guys sunbathe together? “ query. And Sally clearly hasn’t forgotten Greg since their ‘high school’ affair. Curiously, the 8th grade is in fact part of junior high. An innocent slip or sly allusion to the notion of time going haywire that is to come? Or I’m only reading too much into this soon-to-be red herring material.

Anyone in favor of a sequel?