It’s a tradition that in every year, there is that one film that makes me think “Wow, that scriptwriter must be intelligent, and uses heroin or something,” and this time, that film’s Triangle. A group travel on a boat on route to… somewhere. Then, after a “Da fuck?” moment, they board another ship. With that said, I will keep my story-spoiling urges down. Triangle will head you down a road that gets more messed up every minute. My mouth uttered nothing but these two words: holy shit. It wrestles thumbs in your mind with messed up (occasionally stupid) set pieces.
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