The Social Network (Film Review)
Now I've seen comparisons to Citizen Kane (both film and character) for this David Fincher/Aaron Sorkin collaboration, but not the one which occured to me within ten minutes of this entertaining, frustrating and highly interesting exercise in RPF. But then, I'm not sure how many reviewers watched Buffy The Vampire Slayer.
What reviewers focus on tells a story on its own regarding their background and priorities. Most reviews in German papers I've read see The Social Network as a type of the old medium (film) strikes back at the new medium (internet) exercise. They focus on the fact that a memorable cinematic portrayal blots out reality in the collective memory anytime; that's when the Kane comparisons start, since basically the only thing most people remember about William Randolph Hearst these days is that he was the inspiraction for Charles Foster Kane; mixing reality and fiction, his Californian castle is often referred to as Xanadu instead of San Simeon. No matter how many biographies point out William Bligh was actually pretty lenient for a naval officer of his day, in people's memory he resides as Charles Laughton, relishing flogging his men with sadistic glee. And thus, predict reviewers over here, it doesn't really matter what Mark Zuckerberg is like; by the power of Aaron Sorkin's lines and good acting by Jesse Eisenberg, he'll be remembered, if he is, as his fictional counterpart in this film. Not just the power of fiction over reality but specifically the power of cinema, the medium already written off in the internet age.
Sidenote: honestly, I didn't get the impression either Sorkin or Fincher were after some kind of statement about the internet or cinema. Sorkin throws in some computer lingo when appropriate but really, the new medium aspect is so not what the script is interested in.
Meanwhile, many lj reviews I've seen focus on the presentation, or lack of same, of female characters, i.e. the fact that with two exceptions, they fall under the "ditzes and bimbos" cliché, the question being as to whether it's because of the pov - Zuckerberg and Eduardo Severin are incapable of having relationships with women outside these parameters - or because the script endorses the pov. I might change my opinion, but for the moment I'm willing to give Aaron Sorkin the benefit of the doubt here because the two exceptions - Zuckerberg's ex, Erica, who dumps him at the start of the film, and the female lawyer in his defense team - not only bookend the film but are given the "moral of the story" type of pronouncements that make them virtual stand-ins for the writer. Also, the script even avoids the obvious trap, i.e. blaming Erica for Zuckerberg's jerk status, by making it clear that he's that way from the start. All of which doesn't mean that this isn't a boys club type of film, which it completely is. Just that the boys in question are pathetic in various degrees.
One point raised in newspaper and online reviews alike is that Film!Zuckerberg is that rarity, an unsympathetic-yet-compelling main character whose bad traits aren't excused via a tragic backstory or some secret pain (getting dumped by his girlfriend does not count since the way the scene is written makes it solidly his fault; not to mention that it's not secret since he's all over livejournal - yes, really - about it) and who does not have a redemption arc or a downfall tale. To recall an earlier discussion, he's the antisocial genius a la House or update!Sherlock without the excuses or "but look, he really is devoted to character X!" get out clause. Which is why I thought of BTVS character Warren Mears instead; basically, Film!Zuckerberg is what Warren might have become if he'd gotten out of Sunnydale and instead of attempting to play supervillain used his intelligence and inventiveness for status and financial gain in the legal, non-fantasy-bound way. There's even a parallel scene to the Warren surprisingly meets Katrina in a bar encounter early in Dead Things, except the lack of hypnotic device lets it end far better for Erica; otherwise, the dialogue and emotional dynamics are pretty identical. Zuckerberg's Andrew-and-Jonathan in one person is Eduardo Severin, played by Andrew Garfield, which as opposed to the casting of Zuckerberg himself (he looks believably nerdish) follows the Hollywood principle of letting outsiders be played by actors who look like male models. I've seen Severin described as the lone sympathetic male of the film and/or an equivalent of Jed Leland in Citizen Kane, but he didn't work that way for me. Yes, the actor is pretty, and Severin gets the "zomg my friend screwed me over!" pain, but he's such a tool which in anything scripted by Aaron Sorkin (aka a 'verse populated by everyone spouting razorsharp dialogue and a very high percentage of the caracters being smart) is a problem (for me, not necessarily for other viewers) when it comes to the sympathy, given that he's as emotionally immature as Zuckerberg but without the smarts. Mind you, the characters the film absolutely has no mercy for and skewers with gleeful verocity (both scriptwise and via the visuals - can't say I've seen a rowing competition filmed in a way that ridicules the sportsfolk before, but Fincher pulls it off) aren't Zuckerberg, Severin or Sean Parker (or: huh, Justin Timberlake can act? He's a male Billie Piper!) but the Ivy League princes, the Winkelvoss brothers. If we do have to make CK comparisons, they're Kane's guardian. Rarely was privilege mocked on screen in such an acid way. (I can't help but wonder whether Zuckerberg is the only one with a grudge against the Ivy League.)
Something else the film does compare and contrast isn't just Zuckerberg with Severin but also Zuckerberg with "I invented Napster" Sean as-played-by-Justin-Timberlake; if Eduardo Severin is pretty and well meaning but not as smart as Zuckerberg, Sean is far more charismatic and as smart, not to mention a gifted salesman, but also hubristic and ultimately too self indulgent not to lose control of the ride he hijacked. These are the personal dynamics the film is interested in; that the power-gaining and losing takes place via the internet as opposed to the more literal bloodletting way of old is incidental, though Sorkin throws in the occasional technobabble where appropriate. Since it's, real life events not withstanding, fiction, and specifically an American film, there is the demand for some type of price to be paid for ruthless gain. (See also: Capote ending with the credits text telling us that Truman C. invented faction and wrote a bestseller with In Cold Blood but never completed another novel and drank himself to death, or Minghella's version of Tom Ripley getting away with it but only after being forced to kill the one person who loved him for himself to maintain his fake existence.) The film accomplishes this not only via the female lawyer but a completely silent coda with the most effective use of the "reload" button as a symbol that I've seen. I can't make up my mind as to whether it works as storytelling for me - did I need to see Zuckerberg punished in some way? Don't know, but otoh, it forms a perfect symmetry with the start of the film and I'm not sure whether another ending would be appropriate to the story as told.
Lastly: when the film wound down and a couple of very familiar voices started to sing Baby, You're a Rich Man I had to grin. It's one of the lesser Beatles songs, but it's perfect for Mark Zuckerberg as presented by The Social Network.
This entry was originally posted at http://selenak.dreamwidth.org/619594.html. Comment there or here, as you wish.
What reviewers focus on tells a story on its own regarding their background and priorities. Most reviews in German papers I've read see The Social Network as a type of the old medium (film) strikes back at the new medium (internet) exercise. They focus on the fact that a memorable cinematic portrayal blots out reality in the collective memory anytime; that's when the Kane comparisons start, since basically the only thing most people remember about William Randolph Hearst these days is that he was the inspiraction for Charles Foster Kane; mixing reality and fiction, his Californian castle is often referred to as Xanadu instead of San Simeon. No matter how many biographies point out William Bligh was actually pretty lenient for a naval officer of his day, in people's memory he resides as Charles Laughton, relishing flogging his men with sadistic glee. And thus, predict reviewers over here, it doesn't really matter what Mark Zuckerberg is like; by the power of Aaron Sorkin's lines and good acting by Jesse Eisenberg, he'll be remembered, if he is, as his fictional counterpart in this film. Not just the power of fiction over reality but specifically the power of cinema, the medium already written off in the internet age.
Sidenote: honestly, I didn't get the impression either Sorkin or Fincher were after some kind of statement about the internet or cinema. Sorkin throws in some computer lingo when appropriate but really, the new medium aspect is so not what the script is interested in.
Meanwhile, many lj reviews I've seen focus on the presentation, or lack of same, of female characters, i.e. the fact that with two exceptions, they fall under the "ditzes and bimbos" cliché, the question being as to whether it's because of the pov - Zuckerberg and Eduardo Severin are incapable of having relationships with women outside these parameters - or because the script endorses the pov. I might change my opinion, but for the moment I'm willing to give Aaron Sorkin the benefit of the doubt here because the two exceptions - Zuckerberg's ex, Erica, who dumps him at the start of the film, and the female lawyer in his defense team - not only bookend the film but are given the "moral of the story" type of pronouncements that make them virtual stand-ins for the writer. Also, the script even avoids the obvious trap, i.e. blaming Erica for Zuckerberg's jerk status, by making it clear that he's that way from the start. All of which doesn't mean that this isn't a boys club type of film, which it completely is. Just that the boys in question are pathetic in various degrees.
One point raised in newspaper and online reviews alike is that Film!Zuckerberg is that rarity, an unsympathetic-yet-compelling main character whose bad traits aren't excused via a tragic backstory or some secret pain (getting dumped by his girlfriend does not count since the way the scene is written makes it solidly his fault; not to mention that it's not secret since he's all over livejournal - yes, really - about it) and who does not have a redemption arc or a downfall tale. To recall an earlier discussion, he's the antisocial genius a la House or update!Sherlock without the excuses or "but look, he really is devoted to character X!" get out clause. Which is why I thought of BTVS character Warren Mears instead; basically, Film!Zuckerberg is what Warren might have become if he'd gotten out of Sunnydale and instead of attempting to play supervillain used his intelligence and inventiveness for status and financial gain in the legal, non-fantasy-bound way. There's even a parallel scene to the Warren surprisingly meets Katrina in a bar encounter early in Dead Things, except the lack of hypnotic device lets it end far better for Erica; otherwise, the dialogue and emotional dynamics are pretty identical. Zuckerberg's Andrew-and-Jonathan in one person is Eduardo Severin, played by Andrew Garfield, which as opposed to the casting of Zuckerberg himself (he looks believably nerdish) follows the Hollywood principle of letting outsiders be played by actors who look like male models. I've seen Severin described as the lone sympathetic male of the film and/or an equivalent of Jed Leland in Citizen Kane, but he didn't work that way for me. Yes, the actor is pretty, and Severin gets the "zomg my friend screwed me over!" pain, but he's such a tool which in anything scripted by Aaron Sorkin (aka a 'verse populated by everyone spouting razorsharp dialogue and a very high percentage of the caracters being smart) is a problem (for me, not necessarily for other viewers) when it comes to the sympathy, given that he's as emotionally immature as Zuckerberg but without the smarts. Mind you, the characters the film absolutely has no mercy for and skewers with gleeful verocity (both scriptwise and via the visuals - can't say I've seen a rowing competition filmed in a way that ridicules the sportsfolk before, but Fincher pulls it off) aren't Zuckerberg, Severin or Sean Parker (or: huh, Justin Timberlake can act? He's a male Billie Piper!) but the Ivy League princes, the Winkelvoss brothers. If we do have to make CK comparisons, they're Kane's guardian. Rarely was privilege mocked on screen in such an acid way. (I can't help but wonder whether Zuckerberg is the only one with a grudge against the Ivy League.)
Something else the film does compare and contrast isn't just Zuckerberg with Severin but also Zuckerberg with "I invented Napster" Sean as-played-by-Justin-Timberlake; if Eduardo Severin is pretty and well meaning but not as smart as Zuckerberg, Sean is far more charismatic and as smart, not to mention a gifted salesman, but also hubristic and ultimately too self indulgent not to lose control of the ride he hijacked. These are the personal dynamics the film is interested in; that the power-gaining and losing takes place via the internet as opposed to the more literal bloodletting way of old is incidental, though Sorkin throws in the occasional technobabble where appropriate. Since it's, real life events not withstanding, fiction, and specifically an American film, there is the demand for some type of price to be paid for ruthless gain. (See also: Capote ending with the credits text telling us that Truman C. invented faction and wrote a bestseller with In Cold Blood but never completed another novel and drank himself to death, or Minghella's version of Tom Ripley getting away with it but only after being forced to kill the one person who loved him for himself to maintain his fake existence.) The film accomplishes this not only via the female lawyer but a completely silent coda with the most effective use of the "reload" button as a symbol that I've seen. I can't make up my mind as to whether it works as storytelling for me - did I need to see Zuckerberg punished in some way? Don't know, but otoh, it forms a perfect symmetry with the start of the film and I'm not sure whether another ending would be appropriate to the story as told.
Lastly: when the film wound down and a couple of very familiar voices started to sing Baby, You're a Rich Man I had to grin. It's one of the lesser Beatles songs, but it's perfect for Mark Zuckerberg as presented by The Social Network.
This entry was originally posted at http://selenak.dreamwidth.org/619594.html. Comment there or here, as you wish.