FILM REVIEW: The Social Network (2010)
Written by Aaron Sorkin • Directed by David Fincher
David Fincher and Aaron Sorkin’s one-two punch is the sort of decade-defining film that, 10 years later, can be delved into with so much analytical scrutiny that you could create a semester-long college course dedicated to its study. It’s a film about class conflict, privacy, ambition and morality. Interestingly enough, the biopic borders on almost complete fiction. Sorkin’s screenplay was adapted from Ben Mezrich’s book The Accidental Billionaires, which was already in itself a pseudo-fictional account of the founding of Facebook. Consulted by Eduardo Savarin who broke off contact with Mezrich after he and Zuckerberg settled their lawsuit, the narrative style of the book parallels Sorkin’s own screenplay. While Sorkin pulls from factual incidents, he clearly embellishes dialogue and drama. But when regarding what Fincher and Sorkin are trying to do, who’s to say that’s relevant. Since 2010, the film’s messages and themes have come full circle to exalting fruition, and much of that is remembered now because of the lengths Sorkin reaches to enhance his caricatures on the screen. It’s a decade later, yet the importance of privacy that a 19-year old Mark Zuckerberg failed to understand as he drunkenly infiltrated sorority and residence hall headshots, was reintroduced last year as Zuckerberg faced the Senate Judiciary Committee. Whether you choose to view the film as an ominous warning of behavioral patterns or a callous, maybe-too-hard-on-him account of a college kid learning the ropes is up to the audience. Rooney Mara tells us at the beginning of the film that Mark’s an “asshole,” while Rashida Jones at the end tells us that he’s “trying too hard to be one”.
Aside from the illuminating re-watch that the film now offers in light of the massive growth of technology, Silicon Valley’s dominance, and backlash Facebook itself has faced over violating user privacy on several accounts, it’s an enthralling character study. Eduardo Savarin, who is treated most kindly by Sorkin and Fincher in their film, serves as a moral beacon throughout. That is why his fall is so heartbreaking to watch. After following the embodiment of a loyal, true friend, from his apprehensive scribbling of a coding formula on the dorm window to the funding of a $19,000 bank account, we crumble at the revelation that his stock in Facebook was diluted down to .03%. Savarin is passively neglected by Zuckerberg from the beginning of the film, but it’s not until the fascinating introduction of Justin Timberlake as Sean Parker that the Shakespearian archetypes begin to form, and Zukerberg’s role as a tragic figure evolves. Parker is arguably the most important character in the film, capitalizing on the ambition of Zuckerberg to manipulate his actions. The character of Zuckerberg was already morally challenged. He’s egocentric, determined to be the very best and have the very best things, but once we introduce Parker as Iago, snivelling in Othello’s ear, carefully circumlocuting around his end-goal to get rid of Eduardo and engulf his role as president of the company, real change begins. The wittiness of Parker’s word-play is evident throughout the film, but no more powerful in its subtlety than in a scene at a California club. Shouting over loud techno music, Parker goes on an incredibly long tangent about the death of the founder of Victoria’s Secret after Zuckerberg mentions that his date looks familiar. He finally gets to the point that his date is a model, but the spiel, which is reminiscent of Iago prating his words around his true intention, serves as a subtle warning to Zuckerberg that the same could happen to him. However, more importantly is the conversation that follows. Parker explains that he invented “Napster” to impress the girl he liked, and when Mark asks him if he still thinks about her, he shrugs it off as an obvious “no”. However, that is where Zuckerberg differs from the sniveling Sean Parker, because he is driven by social validation. The drive to get into the finals club pushed him, and now the drive to become so famous that he can win Erica back is continually in the back of his head. The scene reveals the extent to which both characters are driven by ambition, but it reminds us that Zuckerberg is haunted by his own real-life social network.
From the minute we’re introduced to Sean Parker, Eduardo makes us aware of his paranoia and delusion. A psychosis that follows him all the way to the penultimate sequence of the film, to his very own downfall. That fall from grace reveals the true fragility of Parker, and his villainy is finally understood by Zuckerberg in time, preventing him from becoming fully consumed. As he shrivels up in fear and confusion, speculating wildly as to who it was that set him up, we’re reminded of a line by Eduardo as he’s being escorted out of the Facebook offices: “I like standing next to you Sean, it makes me look so tough”. There is no spine to Parker, simply empty words and meaningless charisma that carefully played on Zuckerberg’s weaknesses to carry out cruelty on someone who had been nothing but a great friend. As a result, Iago is revealed, and he is fired, and the boy genius that is Mark Zuckerberg is now completely alone.
After each viewing of Fincher’s uncompromising masterpiece, I always think back to a quote from Aaron Sorkin, that “fundamentally, you could tell the same story about the invention of a really good toaster.” Whether it’s the external forces of danger that manifest themselves as the Winklevoss twins, the victim of betrayal that is Eduardo Savarin, or the malignancy of Sean Parker, the conflict of the plot is driven by the complexities of each character. It’s not a movie concerned with the technicalities of what Facebook is or the spark of intuition that inspired the world’s largest social-networking company. It’s a consuming character study, a parable even, that warns us of ambition, warns us of greed, and reminds us that no matter who we are, all we want at the end is to be liked. The lengths that the character of Mark Zuckerberg went to to get the job done are semi-exonerated by Rashida Jones at the end. However, as the film closes we’re reminded of him and Sean Parker in the middle of that club, shouting a conversation about the motivation behind “Napster”. While Sean may have feigned that he never thought about that girl, Mark still clearly does as he sits alone in the conference room, waiting for a response to his virtual equivalent of waving a white flag in the air. -D.R.
