Film: The Social Network (2010)
[PG-13]
Proceed With Caution: A Review of The Social Network and a journalist’s call for integrity
The Social Network is a film this generation can’t help but be interested in. When you have a society obsessed with exhibitionism on a single global stage, you can only expect that when someone makes a movie about it, people will watch it. In our meta — a nice way of saying self-absorbed — culture, we jump at the chance to see ourselves on screen, even if the “we” is personified by an inanimate Web site. But just because this film satisfies our egocentric appetite, doesn’t make it good for the soul.
A story of Facebook and its creators, The Social Network is entertaining and pathos-driven hearsay advertised as the truth. Though its script is plenty comedic, scenes are creatively arranged, and lead Jesse Eisenberg’s performance is impressive, the movie’s flaws make the film a bit of a disappointment. They break down like this:
1. Mark Zuckerberg’s dead-pan personality projected on the film as a whole
2. Justin Timberlake’s performance
3. Fact and fiction
As soon as that stallion and the lady with the torch have faded to black, The Social Network wastes no time warming up the audience to the film’s protagonist…er …villain...ous antihero? Zuckerberg, played by Jesse Eisenberg, has a knack for bringing conversation to a halt—one that everyone finds so uncomfortable that they fill the space for him. The effort people make to break the silence feels a bit like ironic foreshadowing. Most of us hardly speak in verbal sound anymore, communication having been reduced to chimes, buzzes, and little red flags via electronics. As we watch Eisenberg’s performance, we see a little bit of the social roly pollies we’ve become, comfortable until someone gets too close and “pokes” us.
The scene opens on Erica, Zuckerberg’s girlfriend (Rooney Mara), looking less than enthralled by Mark’s disjointed conversation. He jumps from statistics to rhetorical questions, sometimes leaving a topic completely for a few exchanges, and then revisiting it without warning. What starts as Mark’s game plan to get into a “final club” at Harvard ends as a dig at Erica’s humble beginnings and the end of their relationship. Within the first scene, we get a pretty distinct impression of Mark, and a hint at the social ineptitude, which he will soon teach the world to embrace.
When Mark returns to his dorm, he blogs about his breakup, and takes on the role of narrator. This is the point where the man, the myth, the monotone, Zuckerberg, becomes a little unbearable. As he walks the audience through what we assume is the simplified version of the creation of FaceMash, the hot-or-not web app that Mark creates with Harvard girls’ pictures, it feels more like being read to from a computer manual. And yes, I can see why they did it — they probably thought it would be a clever way to convey Mark’s lack of personality — but my God, you don’t have to read more than three pages of the dictionary to understand it’s full of words and definitions. The same rule applies.
After FaceMash crashes the Harvard server with its popularity, Mark is recruited to work on a Harvard-exclusive social networking website for the Winklevoss brothers, a couple of well-to-do — but who isn’t at Harvard? — crew team kids, you just know are destined to run a multi-national corporation bent on exploiting third world countries and calling it capitalism. Mark accepts the offer, enlists the help of best friend Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield), and begins working on a primitive Facebook (Thefacebook) under the guise of working for the Winklevosses. Eduardo is the cautious type and easily manipulated by Mark despite the final club bid he’s been toting around in his pocket. This is one of the first signs of Zuckerberg’s jealousy of Saverin and the fragility of their friendship.
At this point, Eduardo starts narrating the film in the form of a deposition for his lawsuit against Mark. We don’t know what has split the two up, but we learn that Mark’s impatience with potential investors and his fascination with Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), that kid who started Napster, is creating a wedge in the friend — and partner — ship. With the introduction of Timberlake’s character comes the film’s second issue.
Now, as a journalist concerned for the integrity of my work, I feel it only necessary to admit that I was once a JT fangirl, but I am proud to say I’ve been off the stuff since he went solo, and feel confident I can offer an objective critique. Timberlake as Sean Parker was about as convincing as he was in Model Behavior (2000), his Disney Channel film debut. Maybe it’s his style, but JT’s over-expressive mannerisms and forced intonations make me feel like I’m watching a soap opera or a talking mime. Every facet of his performance seemed exaggerated. To be fair, he’s got a bit of a hurdle to jump in breaking the boy band link, but until he can surpass Miley Cyrus in acting ability, he should stick to music and the occasional SNL cameo.
Eduardo is even less impressed than I, calling Parker “paranoid” and “delusional,” while Mark is practically salivating at his sage words of wisdom: be cool, come to California. Parker is depicted in the following scenes as scheming and parasitic. By showing Zuckerberg the allure of the life of the young and the rich, Parker is able to weasel his way into the Facebook family and subtly phase out Eduardo, who is working on a summer internship while the Web site flourishes in the Silicon Valley, its new headquarters.
When Facebook, as it has come to be called, goes public and starts making its way onto other college campuses and continents, the Winklevosses realize they’ve been had, and waste no time bringing in their lawyers — what, you didn’t have your lawyer programmed on your speed dial in college? Here’s where “all these college kids suing each other,” comes into play, as author Ben Mezrich puts it.
After the summer success, Eduardo returns to school while Mark and Sean stay in California. Sean has been arranging meetings with investors, and as more money comes into the company, more shares must be created. Eduardo gets a call from Mark to come out and celebrate the one-millionth member, but walks into an “ambush.” Upon entering the new Facebook office, Eduardo learns his stock in the company has been reduced from 34 to less than one percent, while all other parties, including Sean, have remained the same. Sean makes it very clear that there was a plan in motion to remove Eduardo when he says, “you’re not part of Facebook.” Eduardo leaves the office seething and shouts that he’s going to sue. And thus, we understand the depositions, which have been guiding the bulk of the story.
This scene is important to understanding the third and most important problem with this film: the question of what is and isn’t true.
The film is based on The Accidental Billionaires, an “incredible true story of the accidental creation of Facebook,” says the book’s Facebook page. Sounds legitimate, until the author, Ben Mezrich, openly admits that his sources include court documents and one, count ‘em, one Facebook founder. Eduardo Saverin. Any self-respecting journalist will tell you that a one-sided story can hardly be called the truth, especially when that side has been scorned. Though it makes for an entertaining narrative with all the elements we Americans love — sex, money, alcohol, back-stabbing and pretty people to act it all out — there is, presently, no agreed-upon truth. Zuckerberg denied Mezrich’s requests for interviews, but that’s not an excuse for calling the work nonfiction.
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