Perhaps the most startling revelation of director David Fincher and screenwriter Aaron Sorkin’s frenetically paced film The Social Network is seeing “2003” on the screen at the beginning and realizing that it has only taken seven years for Facebook to grow from an idea by Harvard undergrads into a ubiquitous Internet phenomenon with a half-billion participants, making co-founder Mark Zuckerberg the youngest billionaire in the world. Obviously dramatized throughout and based on disputed source material, the film presents no real surprises, but draws its audience in by curiosity about a simple question: Is Mark Zuckerberg really that big of an asshole?
That particular vulgarity is aimed at Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) several times throughout the film, and by different sources, the first being his then-girlfriend Erica (Rooney Mara), who breaks up with him in the too-talky opening scene. (It feels like Sorkin, an admitted cocaine addict, wrote this scene and much of the movie while on a bender of blow, and given the wild excesses and snotty, self-important attitudes of the ensuing story, that seems rather appropriate.) Zuckerberg, obviously hurt, retaliates by insulting her as a lowly Boston U. student compared to someone from Harvard, then returns to his dorm room and drunkenly smears her on his blog. Then, with the help of two fellow computer whiz kids, including his best friend Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield), Zuckerberg creates a website overnight that rates the relative hotness of campus coeds.
Eisenberg, star of the recent comedy Zombieland, effectively portrays Zuckerberg as a creep, his eyes cold and calculating, his chin jutted and mouth pulled tight in defiance of others. He’s a computer genius and he knows it, thinking he’s a noble visionary bringing this grand gift of connectivity to his peers and expecting plaudits and loyalty on that basis alone. Yet this film also paints Zuckerberg as jealous and seethingly class-conscious, lording Harvard over his ex’s supposedly inferior education while sniping about the well-bred private clubs–the university’s equivalent of fraternities–that wouldn’t accept someone like him as a member. When his friend Eduardo is chosen for one of the more prestigious clubs, it noticeably strains their friendship, and Zuckerberg lobs some nasty statements at him under the passive-aggressive guise of “friendly” conversation.
He is a pioneer of social networking, yet according to this depiction, he’s disconnected from any real contact with society. His friend Eduardo’s reasonable ideas for advertising and monetization of the website conflict with his own visions of social rewards. This growing separation between the two friends is exacerbated by the involvement of infamous Napster founder Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), a coke-fueled party boy who finds out about “The Facebook” in its early stages. Zuckerberg sees Parker as an Internet rock star, a visionary, and a kindred genius. Parker’s apparent contribution to the company, apart from drugs and women, is in telling Zuckerberg to drop the “The” from the site’s name. For this, he now owns a percentage of Facebook’s billions of dollars.
Timberlake is smartly cast, as his own star status infuses the Sean Parker character with even more credibility; he’s especially effective in his more serious moments late in the film. Another clever bit of casting is Armie Hammer, great-grandson of the wealthy industrialist Armand Hammer. He plays (with the aid of a body double in some shots) twin brothers Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss, Harvard rowers and privileged club members whose idea is stolen by Zuckerberg. Fincher stages the Winklevoss scenes so seamlessly I assumed it was two twin actors in the roles. Rooney Mara makes a good impression in her few scenes, boding well for her future role as the Hollywood version of The Girl with The Dragon Tattoo. Kudos also go to David Selby, John Getz, and Rashida Jones as lawyers sparring around a conference table negotiating the lawsuits that frame the story.
Jesse Eisenberg is almost too good at playing Zuckerberg as a soulless, conniving jerk. It’s a plum role, but ultimately a sad one, and I hope that this likable actor can find another major role soon as a nice guy, just to balance this one out. The real heart of the film is Andrew Garfield, as he is in his other current release, Never Let Me Go. Both roles prove him adept at emotional conflict, and he carries the bulk of that burden in this movie due to Zuckerberg’s cold and unemotional attitude.
The Social Network often tries too hard to be hip and tap into a high-energy zeitgeist, particularly in the almost nonstop pace and dialogue that’s far too pointed, scripted, and speedily delivered to resemble real conversation. Much about the movie–including the soundtrack by Trent Reznor–seems excessive, and perhaps that’s justified considering the excesses of Facebook itself and the people who founded it. There’s been curiosity about how Mark Zuckerberg himself feels about this film and his negative portrayal in it. If this movie is to be believed, his public indifference is not surprising–it depicts him as enjoying the attention, both good and bad. People are talking about him, which is what he wants. But by the end, for the founder of a website based on connecting with friends, he appears to be decidedly unfriendly. And after seeing the real Zuckerberg in his tacky hoodies and sweat clothes, and hearing him spout ridiculous statements about personal privacy, I’m inclined to believe that the film doesn’t stretch the truth all that much.
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