The Love Triangles of 2024 Are Refreshingly, Perfectly Cynical

In the third season finale of Industry—HBO’s finance drama that follows the fast-paced (and cocaine-laced) exploits of bankers in London—Yasmin Kara-Hanani (Marisa Abela) is in a situation some might find aspirational: She has her pick of two men. First, there is Robert Spearing (Harry Lawtey)—a loveable and sensitive Pierpoint & Co. banker from humble beginnings. Then, there is Henry Muck (Kit Harington)—a useless and strangely endearing aristocrat who will one day inherit his uncle’s fortune. Who will she choose?

The M-M-F love triangle—featuring two men, one woman—is having a moment right now. Of course, M-M-F love triangles aren’t new: Remember in Sex and the City, when Carrie watched Big and Aidan literally mud-wrestle over her? But more recently, M-M-F love triangles have been used to explore situations where it looks like the woman is in control but is actually given two less-than-great options. Digging a little deeper, the triangles we see on-screen these days are less about fun, sexy “will they/won't they” dynamics and more about the narrow choices society presents to women and the limitations of modern men.

A prime example lies in Industry’s season finale when—moments after confessing her love for Rob—Yasmin gets engaged to Henry, a man who admits he might be too selfish to love her properly but can ensure her survival amid the publicity disaster she's facing. In 2024, female characters are more comfortable rejecting can’t-live-without-each-other love, instead opting for a more practical (and more cynical) take on relationships. Often, the M-M-F love triangle is a situation in which nobody fully wins. And that’s the point.

Season 3 Yasmin is struggling. Her old-money father has disappeared, leaving behind a trail of unpaid debts and scandal. In his absence, paparazzi are following her everywhere. As Yasmin flounders, she latches onto Henry—a chronically insecure Lord-in-waiting who shares her parental abandonment issues. Henry has the ability to protect Yasmin: When they first meet, he uses his connections to get a tabloid article about her taken down. But their relationship is, in part, about sexual power. When she and Henry first meet for dinner, she demeans him in a bathroom mirror, insisting he has no chance with her.

Despite the similarities in how Yasmin uses sex to reassert her power over men, she is much more emotionally vulnerable with Rob. And in the penultimate episode, she admits her games are just a defense mechanism: “It’s just my first instinct whenever I feel anything like love or care,” she tells him. “I just want to make it ugly as quickly as I possibly can. Turn it into sex, turn it into something else.”

Photograph by Simon Ridgway/HBO

Looking further afield, it’s common for M-M-F love triangles to present women as revered, further cementing this idea that being in this situation to begin with is actually the ultimate marker of power. Before Industry, there was Challengers, Luca Guadagnino’s sexy, sweaty tennis movie starring Zendaya, Josh O’Connor, and Mike Faist. Then there was summer blockbuster Twisters, the (sort-of?) sequel starring Daisy Edgar-Jones, whose character Kate is the muse of her college sweetheart (Anthony Ramos) and an arrogant storm-chasing influencer (Glen Powell).

The protagonists in Challengers and Twisters have very different temperaments (Kate is pretty timid compared to alpha female Tashi) but both are portrayed as all-knowing geniuses. In Twisters, science buff Kate knows more about tornadoes than any fancy tech device or modeling program. Tyler and Javi are in awe of her as much as they’re both attracted to her. And in Challengers, Dom Top tennis coach Tashi (Zendaya) is the key to both Art (Faist) and Patrick (O’Connor) raising their game. She understands tennis—and both of them—better than anyone. (Forget Forbes 30 under 30, the new status symbol is having two men who are obsessed with you.)

Forget Forbes 30 under 30, the new status symbol is having two men who are obsessed with you.

It’s more complicated than that, though. At the beginning of Challengers, when we first meet Tashi, she has the world at her feet as a promising junior player. Patrick and Art, two besties at the start of their tennis careers, follow her around like horny teenage puppy dogs. They’re willing to do pretty much whatever she says. When we fast-forward to the present day, Tashi seems unfulfilled. After an injury ended her playing career, she is now one half of a tennis “power couple” as Art’s coach and wife. But she seems worn down by Art and Patrick. “I’m taking such good care of my little white boys!” she says in a moment of frustration. Being the key that unlocks greatness in both men has taken a toll on her. And in the end, when she lets out a roar while Art and Patrick duke it out on the court, she proves that ultimately, she was really in it for the love of the game. She doesn't ride off into the sunset with either man.

Warner Bros.

Yasmin seems similarly exhausted by the faults of the men available to her. You could argue her decision to marry Henry and secure her place in British upper-class society was a moment of reclamation, but earlier in the season finale, we saw what Yasmin had to give up to get there. Locked in a battle with her late father’s publishing company that could make her the face of a scandal, she watches innocent, hopeful Rob out the window of the car, buying scratch cards from the gas station, and she decides he can’t offer her the protection she needs.

But Henry can. Yasmin’s fate is sealed in a pivotal conversation with Henry’s media baron uncle. He gives her a sort of ultimatum: marry my nephew and you never have to worry about tabloid nonsense again. By opting to do just that, Yasmin ensures her survival, but she essentially makes herself the property of a new set of men.

Photograph by Simon Ridgway/HBO

Watching this unfold, I was reminded of a scene from a famous film featuring another M-M-F triangle: Titanic. As Rose is tempted by penniless artist Jack, her mother reminds her that the family money has gone, and the “only card they have left to play” is their respected name. “Of course it’s unfair,” she says, when Rose protests. “We’re women. Our choices are never easy.” If Titanic were set today, Rose may well have followed her mother’s instructions. As Yasmin herself advises in the finale: “Fuck it, take the money and run, babe.”

If Titanic were set today, Rose may well have followed her mother’s instructions. As Yasmin herself advises in the finale: “Fuck it, take the money and run, babe.”

As a viewer, there is a sense of loss when Yasmin chooses not to run off into the sunset with Rob. Even though we already knew she isn't the type to elope with a pauper, most pop culture contains the (somewhat infantilizing) underlying message that “follow your heart” is the best thing for everyone. But there is no “best thing for everyone” in these situations, so the women within them are making the logical choice. The love triangle in Challengers has a similar outcome: No outright winner or loser. No one can “have it all.” (This was also, I have to assume, why a pivotal kissing scene between Daisy Edgar-Jones and Glen Powell was cut from the end of Twisters. In 2024, that type of ending feels too complete—even in a shiny blockbuster.) At first, when Yasmin tells Henry they “need to be practical,” their engagement feels traditional and transactional. But there is also something quietly modern about her practicality.

“True love” sounds great in theory, but it usually involves taking risks. Yasmin has been tormented by her first experience of precarity (her father), so instead she rediscovers her power by letting go of the fantasy that you can get absolutely everything you want from one person. By challenging us to look beyond the picture-perfect ending, this era of M-M-F triangles dares us to compromise, too—this time, on a more realistic version of Happily Ever After.