The Social Network (David Fincher, 2010)

[Jean-Luc Garbo]

You can see why he was drawn to the idea of Facebook (and to the idea of inventing something cool and popular): you can have a million friends without ever needing to leave your house, your room, your head. Socializing without sociability.

That sounds like a lot of internet junkies I know. Or does the film stop short of implicating that everyone on Facebook has that sort of attitude?

[Foam]

I don't think it successfully implicates anyone I know, though reading the reviews ahead of time I wasn't expecting much in that arena. So what is the theme of this movie, and how well does it really delve into it? There's no doubt that the movie is a well-balanced and propulsive yarn with not a little weight of narrative justice. There's no doubt that hearing Hawksian dialogue of this quick sharpness again is a real pleasure. There's no doubt that the camera does a few awe-inspiring acrobatics and that the music sounds great. But for me there's still considerable doubt as to whether Sorkin or Fincher have anything interesting to say about exclusivity, privilege, or social alienation. You mean sometimes privileged dudes are shocked (shocked!) when they don't get what they want for the first time in their lives? You mean sometimes when an awkward dweeb gets burnt he hides his wounds behind intellectual arrogance and misguided grabs at social acceptance? You mean those guys have feelings too, even if they can't maintain their friendships--ya mean really? We've seen it done before, and with more interest. I feel silly having to say "it doesn't do the 'limitations of memory' thing as well as Kane or Rashomon or even The Last Picture Show" but there appears a need to stake out a personal distinction given how willing most critics seem to instantly canonize it. The movie's attempt to be as clear as possible about its sympathies (Zuck gets some bad news on the phone and a light goes out behind him--this must be the "genius directing" I'm hearing about) and ironies uncomplicates them to the easily-summarized extent that I'm left wondering why it needed to be a movie at all other than for the audience to appreciate the execution for the sake of itself. On the other hand, if you're like me and find that execution little more than mildly amusing rather than the apparently richly textured trip most seem to be experiencing, you're left with little more than the feeling I get when I've just got off the third-best roller coaster at the park. Expert pacing, clear characterization, watchable acting, pretty cinematography, successfully manipulative music, but in the service of what that couldn't have been just as easily provided from a medium-sized synopsis? Of course, if you do really dig its approach, there's no need for it to be a really probing exploration--I'll forgive A Clockwork Orange its similarly shallow simplicities and perhaps even greater problems every time merely because I buy into its formal bombast. But as for me and The Social Network, unless someone can really unpack something of interest from the movie's handling of these themes other than the ten-word summarizations of experience it's constantly underlining (and believe me--I'm humbly willing to hear it) I'm tempted to call this my biggest Hollywood disappointment of the year. If we're talking about a dude's inability to interact with his environment I'll take the detailed, confused, ground-level explorations of Greenberg or even Daddy Longlegs (movies I'm by no means crazy about either) over The Social Network's clear, simply abstracted aggrandization of 21st century alienation's most obvious paradoxes. For me this is nowhere near one of the best movies I've seen recently, let alone an instant classic.

[Jeff]

The Apatow Lead Who Fell To Earth

mfunk's comment on the first page of this thread about the similarity of the one-sheet for The Social Network to the Criterion cover for The Man Who Fell to Earth is apt. Neil Kellerhouse designed both. Kellerhouse is also credited as the designer of the film's main titles.

So what is the theme of this movie, and how well does it really delve into it?...as for me and The Social Network, unless someone can really unpack something of interest from the movie's handling of these themes other than the ten-word summarizations of experience it's constantly underlining (and believe me--I'm humbly willing to hear it) I'm tempted to call this my biggest Hollywood disappointment of the year.

I don't think that there's all that much to unpack. For me the thematic weight comes from what I mentioned previously: the inability to reconcile envy, social ineptitude, disdain for society, and the desperate longing to be a part of it. Again, these are not new or complicated themes (and, yes, Greenberg handles them beautifully too). I think that they take on an extra layer of meaning when applied to a character who uses technology to invent a device for collecting and "socializing" with simulacrums of "friends." I don't think that the film is a masterpiece or an instant classic, and I'm hopeful that I'll still see better films this year. I do think that it is very well made and engaging though. You conceded that the film employs "expert pacing, clear characterization, watchable acting, pretty cinematography, [and] successfully manipulative music." To me, that's more or less cinema. Those facets obviously worked more for me than they did for you, and worked even better for some of these ecstatic critics.

[Mr Sausage]

But for me there's still considerable doubt as to whether Sorkin or Fincher have anything interesting to say about exclusivity, privilege, or social alienation.

There is a distinct difference between dramatizing or depicting a thing and explaining that thing (being imaginative vs being discursive). You're essentially complaining that the movie was too much like a movie and not enough like an essay.

You mean sometimes privileged dudes are shocked (shocked!) when they don't get what they want for the first time in their lives? You mean sometimes when an awkward dweeb gets burnt he hides his wounds behind intellectual arrogance and misguided grabs at social acceptance? You mean those guys have feelings too, even if they can't maintain their friendships--ya mean really? We've seen it done before, and with more interest.

There is a reason we see so many of these types of people represented in movies. Nevertheless, who else could have been in a movie about Facebook?

Zuck gets some bad news on the phone and a light goes out behind him--this must be the "genius directing" I'm hearing about

Is it more or is it less genius than Hitchcock having his heroines wear white clothes when they're being good and black clothes when they're not?

I cannot understand sneering at the above except for the sake of sneering. Yes, the movie used a visual cue to underline an emotional reaction. So what?

[Foam]

There is a distinct difference between dramatizing or depicting a thing and explaining that thing (being imaginative vs being discursive). You're essentially complaining that the movie was too much like a movie and not enough like an essay.

What I said was that I don't think Sorkin or Fincher have anything interesting to say about exclusivity, privilege, or social alienation. I think the relationship between this and what you've said I've said is misleading, and I'm not sure I accept your movie/essay distinction in the first place. Are you saying that movies cannot say things in ways of greater or less interest?

There is a reason we see so many of these types of people represented in movies. Nevertheless, who else could have been in a movie about Facebook?

Except I didn't fault the film for using these types. I thought it was clear that I was implicitly faulting the popular idea among critics that the film amounts to much of anything more than a highly entertaining character study of what these ready-made types already signify ahead of time. I get that for Jeff juxtaposing them with Facebook makes them immediately interesting, and that's fine, I just happen to think that in this particular film, the interaction between the generic types and this particular social phenomenon come across as schematic and unilluminating at best and sentimental "romantic suffering genius" flattery at worst. In other words, I'm agreeing with you that it "has no ambitions to be a wider study of modern socializing". If we're talking about its critique of the supposed corruption of the social structure that allowed as supposedly sick a thing as Facebook to happen, it doesn't amount to much more than flat out stating "the culture at elite schools is superficial, dudes who use their parents' connections to try and do things are annoying, and marginalized geniuses will be rich outcasts with grandiose melancholy feelings". And? There's no meaningful relationship between the types and the specific time and place that would not be immediately clear through reading a very condensed summary. So why does there need to be a two hour movie, other than to entertain us, make money, and earn Fincher and Sorkin a great deal of artistic credit for "dealing with contemporary issues"? Other than the entertainment value, the film itself seems redundant if you've read its Wikipedia page. The film just underlines the summary in entertaining ways. I have no problem with the film on this level other than that I personally don't find it as entertaining as others (which I don't blame the film for as it has succeeded in doing this for folks as aesthetically demanding as Jeff and yourself). But a lot of people are saying this film is a great deal more than just entertainment because of how it handles its concerns. I'm saying it's just generic effective entertainment that's planted itself into an important phenomenon it has no meaningful relationship to, possibly in the creator's hopes that by doing so it becomes important art by way of its perceived relationship to this important topic (though obviously I have no way of proving such a thing). Whatever the case, from reading the reviews (i.e. "The Social Network has more to say to today's kids than Citizen Kane because it has to do with contemporary issues") the critics seem more than willing to buy into this sleight of hand. It's not working for me because (1) I see no meaningful relationship between as idiosyncratic a figure as Eisenberg's Zuckerberg and me or any of my other friends who use Facebook and (2) I don't find the film's apparent sub-Bret Easton Ellis demonization of social climbing and sexually objectifying partying very compelling given the way it finally aggrandizes Zuckerburg's self-inflicted suffering at the same time as it sentimentalizes his clear assholitry through tacking on Rashida Jone's magical ability to see into his "true self", which leads me to where I may have a potential disagreement with you and Jeff.

This whole "you're not an asshole, you're just trying really hard to be" presumes a sentimental and rather dubiously Platonic definition of who a person "really is" because it bases this evaluation solely on what that person happens to feel as opposed to how that person actually behaves and interacts with the world. Now, this is a personal philosophical problem I have with the film, and I know you get wary of bringing this sort of thing into criticism and favor an "art for art's sake" approach, but I hope you can hear me out seeing as what I am arguing against is a position that is just as philosophically loaded as my own. This aspect of the film reminds me of D.H. Lawrence's "Why The Novel Matters"--the Platonic ideal part of ourselves, our intentions, our "reasons", are only one aspect of who we are, not the whole thing. So yes, Zuckerburg is an asshole for me no matter how weepy he is on the inside, and so the attempt at moral complication at the ending rings false on my end, especially in light of the film's unwillingness to grant many of the other just-as-dubious behaviors it condemns the same sentimental forgiveness. I see Fincher and Sorkin's alignment with Zuckerburg as going beyond mere narrative tool and into the realm of a kind of adolescent sentimentality about people who can't interact with the awful attractive people at their awful sexy parties, foregoing the meaningfulness of any of its criticisms of Zuckerburg's behavior in favor of ultimately flattering a certain type of broody "Ooh I'm not one of the popular kids but ooh I want to be deep down inside but I won't show it" personality--certainly not a convincing societal critique, and especially not a useful one. So I'm not arguing against the film as solid neat storytelling, or even as a well-tuned character study, or even arguing against hyperbolic critical evaluation of it per se. Just a particular type of hyperbolic critical evaluation that claims it is somehow morally instructive, either through its supposed condemnation of certain social problems or its examination of a particular type of sociopathy, which its ending weakens. If someone who likes the film wants to defend the sort of claims these reviewers have been making--particularly the idea that it somehow implicates my generation--in detail, I'm happy to hear it. I just haven't seen it so far, at least not from the Rotten Tomatoes crew.

Is it more or is it less genius than Hitchcock having his heroines wear white clothes when they're being good and black clothes when they're not?

I cannot understand sneering at the above except for the sake of sneering. Yes, the movie used a visual cue to underline an emotional reaction. So what?

Personally, I don't think either instance is genius, but that's not my point. I don't have any inherent problem with these kinds of visual cues, but I think we all have personal cutoff points where these cues stop appearing genius and start seeming indulgent or a bit too on-the-nose for our sensibilities. I think this is a big part of what being a connoisseur of anything is about: discovering where your own unique cutoff point for this sort of thing is located. For my part, I haven't developed my critical language to the point where I can reasonably explain why I see the light turning off behind Zuckerberg (or the musical cues in insurance commercials) as indulgent, but at the same time see the pan away from Travis Bickle's telephone conversation with Betsy as ingenious--I feel that there is some kind of appreciable difference, but I don't know how it would be possible to critically measure such a thing, and so I'm left to simply reporting on their affective power towards me in each instance. If in doing so I have offended anyone's sensibility I apologize, as it's not the crux of my problem with the film anyway.

[Mr Sausage]

What I said was that I don't think Sorkin or Fincher have anything interesting to say about exclusivity, privilege, or social alienation. I think the relationship between this and what you've said I've said is misleading, and I'm not sure I accept your movie/essay distinction in the first place.

I'll put it this way: what does a painting "say?" What does a piano concerto "say?" What, indeed, does "saying" have to do with any of these things? Nothing. Having something to "say" is a discursive process, and discursive language underlies such forms as essays or speeches. In discursive language, you talk about things; in imaginative language, such as underlies paintings, music, and of course film, you do not talk talk about things, you make things and those things are what they are. In the case of a film or a novel, you can talk about the things you've made if you want, but this is not necessary to your form.

If Sorkin and Fincher do not wish to comment on their own creations, why bother holding them to a practise they had no obligation to fulfill in the first place?

Are you saying that movies cannot say things in ways of greater or less interest?

More like I find it irrelevant if a film feels like saying anything or not.

And? There's no meaningful relationship between the types and the specific time and place that would not be immediately clear through reading a very condensed summary.

Just as the major themes and characters of pretty much any full length movie or book can also be made immediately clear if reduced in length to a summary. This, however, tells us nothing about whether that condensation makes said themes and characters more persuasive or effective.

The film just underlines the summary in entertaining ways.

No, the film dramatizes the summary. If you feel that reading Facebook's wikipedia page is more illuminating, I'd have to repeat: you want an essay more than a movie, and no doubt you'll be able to find many satisfactory ones online. I find it odd, tho', that a member of this site wouldn't understand the pleasures of dramatization.

This whole "you're not an asshole, you're just trying really hard to be" presumes a sentimental and rather dubiously Platonic definition of who a person "really is" because it bases this evaluation solely on what that person happens to feel as opposed to how that person actually behaves and interacts with the world.

Umm...yes, the character who utters that line is presuming the common divide between social mask and private self. Whether or not this movie is an appropriate thing on which to base a philosophical argument over how to define the self I'll leave to people actually interested in that kind of thing.

[Foam]

I'll put it this way: what does a painting "say?" What does a piano concerto "say?" What, indeed, does "saying" have to do with any of these things? Nothing. Having something to "say" is a discursive process, and discursive language underlies such forms as essays or speeches. In discursive language, you talk about things; in imaginative language, such as underlies paintings, music, and of course film, you do not talk talk about things, you make things and those things are what they are. In the case of a film or a novel, you can talk about the things you've made if you want, but this is not necessary to your form.

More like I find it irrelevant if a film feels like saying anything or not.

I'll admit I'm not sure what "discursive" means even after looking it up, but I'll take your word for it that it means aboutness. You said that the film "has no ambitions to be a wider study of modern socializing", implying that it could be such a study if it wanted to, and that it would then be "about" those things, but here you seem to dismiss any possibility of filmic aboutness at all. Jeff has claimed that the film is "about" certain things, and you yourself have talked elsewhere about what a film is "trying to get across" or what Gulliver's Travels persuades us to think, which leads me to suspect that you have a problem with someone liking a film less than you, rather than my rationale itself. Whether or not you find it irrelevant (to what?) that a film say something or not is irrelevant to the fact that many intelligent people think it and many other films do say things, have created systems to identify what a film does or does not say, think that much of the value of this particular film comes from what they think it is saying, and that I disagree about what that thing is. So much critical discourse on film and art, on this board and in journals, is about what certain films or works of art do or don't say that I find it hard to believe you are actually saying that taking such a critical approach is somehow unacceptable. I get that some works are purely functional and don't seek to say anything, and that works which say abhorrent things may have other values, but I'm also sure that some works do in fact say things, and that The Social Network is one of them. If you are in a different critical camp than these people, surely you have learned to tolerate these academic differences in your own profession, seeing as how widespread they are. You're attempting to protect the film by deflating the possibility of a certain kind of critical inquiry that I promise you will not succeed in persuading me to abandon. The idea that this film isn't attempting to persuade or say something even though it ends with Lennon chanting "baby you're a rich man" strikes me as little more than unhelpful posturing. If it was just neutral dramatic technique (as if such a thing were possible), then it wouldn't have the power to politically irritate, which the audience I saw it with certainly knows it does. What is the opening of Citizen Kane if not Welles saying through film language how locked off Kane is from the world?

Just as the major themes and characters of pretty much any full length movie or book can also be made immediately clear if reduced in length to a summary. This, however, tells us nothing about whether that condensation makes said themes and characters more persuasive or effective.

No, the film dramatizes the summary. If you feel that reading Facebook's wikipedia page is more illuminating, I'd have to repeat: you want an essay more than a movie, and no doubt you'll be able to find many satisfactory ones online. I find it odd, tho', that a member of this site wouldn't share the pleasures of dramatization.

First of all: "persuasive"? "Theme"? Sounds pretty discursive to me--what is a theme if not "aboutness"? Furthermore, the reading of any good book or film will bring gradations and complications out of a theme that would not be apparent in a summarization. One can grasp King Lear's themes by reading a summary, but Shakespeare's language complicates the clarity of these summarizations making the reading of the play itself necessary outside of considerations of entertainment value. I don't think that Fincher and Sorkin sufficiently complicate the summarizations through dramatization or film language. I am further still not convinced by this rather loaded essay/movie distinction, and believe that dramatizations can be arguments, and that The Social Network contains some, and even if it doesn't, it's getting credit for containing some, and I'm engaging with what some critics seem to be saying what that argument is, making what I've said relevant to this thread. In any case, I never said I didn't share any of the pleasures of dramatization, just that in this case I didn't to the extent that most critics appear to, which I hope people who like the film can handle.

Umm...yes, the character who utters that line is presuming the common divide between social mask and private self. Whether or not this movie is an appropriate thing on which to base a philosophical argument over what defines the self, I'll leave to people actually interested in that kind of thing.

You really think it's just the character and not the film itself which presumes this divide? You don't think the film/character is persuading us towards taking a stance re: another character's status as an asshole or not?

[Mr Sausage]

I'll admit I'm not sure what "discursive" means even after looking it up, but I'll take your word for it that it means aboutness.

Oh, it just means concerning or relating to discourse. The OED has "Passing from premisses to conclusions; proceeding by reasoning or argument; ratiocinative." That sort of thing.

here you seem to dismiss any possibility of filmic aboutness at all.

I don't want to be rude, but it does seem like you aren't reading me carefully. I did say: "In the case of a film or a novel, you can talk about the things you've made if you want..."

As for the rest of the paragraph, I don't understand where you got most of your conclusions from. I'll just say that people often use "having something to say" as a trope for significance in general. That's fine. But you were using it literally to mean engaging in a discourse about this or that subject (in this case Facebook and socializing).

First of all: "persuasive"? "Theme"? Sounds pretty discursive to me--what is a theme if not "aboutness"?

Well, a theme is just any recurring pattern. Like the theme to a music score. As for persuasive, a movie can persuade you of the consistency of its characters, for example, without engaging you in discourse.

I am further still not convinced by this rather loaded essay/movie distinction, and believe that dramatizations can be arguments

The point is not whether dramatizations can be arguments, but whether they need to be.

You really think it's just the character and not the film itself which presumes this divide? You don't think the film/character is persuading us towards taking a stance re: another character's status as an asshole or not?

I think the movie is such a detailed and careful character study that it does not need to persuade you of anything. You can examine the details yourself and decide if you think she's right about Zuckerberg or not.

Anyway, I can see this is turning into a whole long thing and I'm already bored by it, so this is it for me. I'll finish by saying my reaction is the same as Jeff's: a lot of the elements of The Social Network you dismiss are exactly what I go to films to see.

[Titus]

I'll put it this way: what does a painting "say?" What does a piano concerto "say?" What, indeed, does "saying" have to do with any of these things? Nothing. Having something to "say" is a discursive process, and discursive language underlies such forms as essays or speeches. In discursive language, you talk about things; in imaginative language, such as underlies paintings, music, and of course film, you do not talk talk about things, you make things and those things are what they are. In the case of a film or a novel, you can talk about the things you've made if you want, but this is not necessary to your form.

If Sorkin and Fincher do not wish to comment on their own creations, why bother holding them to a practise they had no obligation to fulfill in the first place?

This is semantic to the point of pedanticism, sausage, especially given that nearly every film critic and academic has, at some point, used the phrase "to say" in exactly the same manner that Foam did.

[Foam]

You're free to bow out if you'd like, Sausage, and I'll humbly admit that I plain don't understand much of what you are saying (and I have carefully tried to; if that makes me stupid, okay) but I'm not yet bored so I'll respond to what I think I do understand.

a theme is just any recurring pattern. Like the theme to a music score.

Semantics, but I'm pretty sure that a recurring pattern is a motif, while the theme is the unifying subject or idea, or its aboutness. At least that's what the theme is in literature and other narrative art.

As for persuasive, a movie can persuade you of the consistency of its characters, for example, without engaging you in discourse.

But it also can engage you in an argument and just like in essays, the argument can succeed or fail for different audiences.

The point is not whether dramatizations can be arguments, but whether they need to be.

I think the movie is such a detailed and careful character study that it does not need to persuade you of anything. You can examine the details yourself and decide if you think she's right about Zuckerberg or not.

I frankly don't understand this "need" business. You mean film language needn't be interpreted as argument? I think this presumes that the use of a specific type of film language is somehow neutral. I think it's fairly clear that the film attempts to emotionally and intellectual persuade us towards certain conclusions.

Anyway, I can see this is turning into a whole long thing and I'm already bored by it, so this is it for me. I'll finish by saying my reaction is the same as Jeff's: a lot of the elements of The Social Network you dismiss are exactly what I go to films to see.

I don't want to come across as if I don't go to see films for those reasons as well. I thought I made clear that I appreciated the great music, cinematography, acting, etc. I've already seen the movie twice for those reasons, even though I don't think they come together in quite as much of an interesting way as others seem to think. I thought it was clear I was making my argument outside of the evaluations of entertainment value and aesthetic sophistication.

[Mr Sausage]

I'm pretty sure that a recurring pattern is a motif

Lara's Theme. It can be somewhat interchangeably used with motif or leitmotif.

If you legitimately want to continue this then send me a PM. I just don't feel like doing another one of these on the board.

This is semantic to the point of pedanticism, sausage, especially given that nearly every film critic and academic has, at some point, used the phrase "to say" in exactly the same manner that Foam did.

Already addressed the second clause: "people often use 'having something to say' as a trope for significance in general. That's fine. But you were using it literally to mean engaging in a discourse about this or that subject (in this case Facebook and socializing)." As for the first, I can only throw up my hands in despair. If you cannot understand that I was using a semantic point as a segue to a much larger issue concerning what art is, then there is nothing I can say.

[Titus]

Already addressed your second sentence: "that people often use 'having something to say' as a trope for significance in general. That's fine. But you were using it literally to mean engaging in a discourse about this or that subject (in this case Facebook and socializing)."

Well, this doesn't really address my second sentence because I see no substantive difference between the phrase's use in the critical lexicon and Foam's employment of it. Earlier today I read a piece by Jonathan Rosenbaum on his blog about Inglourious Basterds, which opened with: "I’m waiting for any of the enthusiasts for Inglourious Basterds to come up with some guidance about what grown-up things this movie has to say to us about World War 2 or the Holocaust — or maybe just what it has to say about other movies with the same subject matter."

This does not seem markedly different than the sentence of Foam's that you objected to: "What I said was that I don't think Sorkin or Fincher have anything interesting to say about exclusivity, privilege, or social alienation."

As for your first sentence, I can only throw up my hands in despair. If you cannot understand that I was using a semantic point as a segue to a much larger issue concerning what art is, then there is nothing I can say.

Throw up your hands, then, because I still fail to see the relevance between your quibbling over Foam's word choice and your point about the nature of art -- or, more specifically, I fail to see it's need in reinforcing your point. The semantic point seemed unnecessary and condescending to me, and not particularly relevant to Foam's post. You argue that films need not be arguments, yet Foam never made such a claim. Rather, he expressed disappointment in his failure to find the depth and insight that so many critics have been claiming for the film.

But whatever. I didn't intend for my post to be overly reproachful, so apologies if it came off as a wrist-slap ("pedanticism" was likely too strong a word). I just felt you were being patronizing, but perhaps I failed in judging the tone of your response. This seems probable given that Foam hasn't taken any offense.

[Mr Sausage]

This does not seem markedly different than the sentence of Foam's that you objected to

That's because it's not, and I object to it, too. As I said to Foam, if you really want to discuss this, PM me.

[matrixschmatrix]

I don't want to re-ignite any fires, but Foam- what did you think of Zodiac? I would argue that Zodiac was both a great movie and a movie that doesn't have any particular thesis or profound statement to make about serial killers and the people who go after them. Have you seen it? Would you agree/disagree with either or both of those?

To me, the Social Network was pretty similar, at that level- deeply focused on a character who was something of an outsider, and who was obsessively focused on his goal to the point of alienating the people who liked/tolerated him.

Zodiac felt a little more satisfying, because the irresolution felt like that was the point, in a funny way, underlining how unreal most hunting a criminal narratives are and fitting in well with No Country for Old Men and There Will Be Blood that year. Still, I think Fincher at his best is just not a thesis driven filmmaker, and if his movies include more Social Networks and fewer Benjamin Buttons I will be a happy man.

[Foam]

I have to admit I don't have anything interesting to say about Zodiac beyond boring "I thought Chloe Sevigny was okay" type comments. I do think I need to make clear that I don't think that The Social Network can only be a good film if it has a thesis or statement; I was just trying to figure out if it had such a thing (as some of its critics are saying it does) and if it did, hold it to it. My posts are basically just the verbal diarrhea I needed to expel in order to sort this all through myself. Through this discussion and through further PMs with Sausage I'm not so sure the film has or attempts to make a thesis or statement, or if it is a worse film even if it unsuccessfully attempts to make one. I'll just finish by saying I don't find the way Zuckerburg is presented here quite as compelling and detailed as most seem to, but I think the movie has some interest anyway.

[Roger Ryan]

...Still, I think Fincher at his best is just not a thesis driven filmmaker, and if his movies include more Social Networks and fewer Benjamin Buttons I will be a happy man.

Regardless of how deep or resonant the theme of THE SOCIAL NETWORK may or may not be, I am also pleased that Fincher has returned from the nadir of BENJAMIN BUTTON, a film that did everything it could to avoid dealing with its stated premise (a premise which Fitzgerald explored thoroughly in 40-odd pages).

The critique that Sorkin/Fincher provide of the Facebook phenomenon can be found under the surface of THE SOCIAL NETWORK, primarily in dialogue between Zuckerberg and the girl he is smitten with as well as in instances like the drunken "farm animals" blog returning to haunt him. More explicitly, the critique is there if the viewer identifies with Zuckerberg at all. His goals are not that different from anyone who uses the internet/Facebook to "socialize". Will someone accept him as a "friend"? Will he be accepted by the "cool" people? How far will his influence go? It seems to me that these concerns are fairly universal for users of message boards or social websites and it stings to see these desires reflected in such a cretinous character as Zuckerberg.

I particularly like how the film breaks with tradition in its portrayal of the film's supposed antagonists. Despite his unappealing qualities, Zuckerberg starts out as the underdog pitted against the privileged Winklevoss twins. Zuckerberg's success, however, does not follow the standard formula in that the viewer's sympathy eventually rests with the twins who believe that hard work and fairness (along with their father's wealth) will win the day for them.

Ultimately, THE SOCIAL NETWORK works for me because it stays on topic. Unlike BUTTON, the film sticks to its established premise and has a surprisingly strong forward momentum. The film, however, does fall short of the promise found in the "Creep" trailer which suggested something a bit loftier and more profound.

[Jeff]

Kent Jones did a great job of summing up why Fincher's direction is so damn good in a brief comment on Glenn Kenny's blog:

Fincher's films certainly do illustrate the difference between what's on the page and what's on the screen. I think it's possible to laugh your way through the movie at all the tangy dialogue (i.e. immediate pleasures) - Larry Summers telling his secretary to punch him in the face, Zuckerberg asking the Harvard IT guy to thank him for shutting down the network and thus pointing out flaws in the system, Caribbean night at the Jewish frat, and so on. And doing so might just obscure the precise tone of every scene, the attention paid to the way every last person in that room where Zuckerberg faces disciplinary action is sitting, for instance, or the glaring hum of florescent lights on the soundtrack, or Zuckerberg's emotional dissociation. In the Mark Harris New York piece, they talk about the opening scene, and the time devoted to the staging of the background action behind Eisenberg and Mara. That's the difference between a good director and a mediocre one, who would let someone else worry about the background or tell the AD to tell the extras to look busy or something. No one's going to pay attention to what's going on in the background, but there is a reason that it feels like a real Cambridge/Boston college bar. And the dialogue is great, but so is the tightly coiled tension within the rhythm in which it's delivered.

But he doesn't just illustrate what's in the script, he actually finds values that are hidden or at least latent - he teases out the undercurrents and lets them guide the action. The sad bewilderment of very young people caught in endless short cycles of resentment and envy and hurt - it's between the words. I think that's one of the many things that makes Fincher a great director.

...and Dave Kehr:

If you see only one new Hollywood film this year (and at this point, I wouldn’t blame you), make it David Fincher’s “The Social Network.” As ecstatic as the reviews have been, the film is actually better than the “social document” it has largely been described as: Like all of Fincher’s mature films, its underlying themes are loneliness and impermanence; it is executed with a spectacular sense of tempo that modulates from percussively Hawksian dialogue duels to achingly silent long takes; the visual style seems to blend Gordon Willis’s robust Cinquecento “Godfather” lighting with the thin, fluorescent buzz of on-the-fly digital shooting. Fincher’s attention to detail is as fanatical as Stroheim’s but he never loses sight of the overall emotional structure, which circles back to a “Rosebud” ending as devastating as anything I have ever seen. This one is going into the history books.

[swo17]

Is The Social Network a character assassination perpetrated by Eduardo Saverin?

It seems Saverin in real life may not be nearly the victim (or even the friend) that he is portrayed to be in the film. Though that in itself could be considered a comment on the wiki-reality that prevails in present times. In fact, you could almost read the whole film as Saverin's own drunken blog rant against Zuckerberg after having been slighted by him. I'm not sure if all the inaccuracies that have been revealed help or hurt the film (as others have mentioned, the film is propelled by accounts dictated by parties who clearly have strong self interests) but this certainly adds another fascinating layer to it all.

[jojo]

Oh, it's quite obvious that the film merely uses the setup to explore Fincher and Sorkin's own obsessions with masculinity, alienation, misogyny and the like that is familiar in most of their work (well, mostly Fincher's). For instance, the entire backbone of Zuckerberg's motivation (sexual frustration, unrequited love) is a complete fabrication, given that the real Zuckerberg has been dating (and is now engaged to, AFAIK) the same girl since before Facebook was officially online.

The funny thing about the film is that despite Eduardo and the twins having some input into the production, I really don't get the feeling that Fincher sees any of them in a very sympathetic light and Zuckerberg actually comes off better because his character doesn't even try to be "likeable." Fincher practically attaches a big fat "LOL" on Saverin and the 'Voss brothers' foreheads in practically every scene of the film they are in--it's almost like Fincher and Sorkin are portraying them as trying a wee bit too hard to be "the victims".

[Andre Jurieu]

Is The Social Network a character assassination perpetrated by Eduardo Saverin?

It seems Saverin in real life may not be nearly the victim (or even the friend) that he is portrayed to be in the film ... In fact, you could almost read the whole film as Saverin's own drunken blog rant against Zuckerberg after having been slighted by him ... but this certainly adds another fascinating layer to it all.

I'm kind of having a difficult time finding much of a divergence between the summary of events in the article and the content of the film, other than the fact that the movie includes a scene where Zuckerberg forgets to pick Saverin up from the airport (I think the Fincher-Sorkin version of Zuckerberg provides a decent, though possibly suspicious, excuse for that as well). If those previously unpublished IMs are supposed to make Zuckerberg more sympathetic, I think they might actually serve as more corroboration to the viewpoint that Zuckerberg is a bit of an a$$hole at times. In fact, I think they could have made a stronger case by skipping all the IMs and e-mails entirely and instead simply pointing out that Saverin pitched the idea for the book that the film is based upon. The only significant difference between the two accounts is that the film does posit that Saverin was a close friend while the article spends some effort on documenting the distance between Zuckerberg and Saverin, which really only picks up steam after everyone knows there is a conflict between the two parties.

I guess I share a similar position as some of the other forum members who think that Fincher and Sorkin provide a fairly balanced perspective on all the major parties involved. Certainly, they've taken some liberties with the actual events to ensure their central story is compelling and identifiable, but I don't think any of the characters come off as entirely above reproach. If their point was to make Saverin into a total victim, I would have to say they failed, as I think it's apparent that he was hindering Zuckerberg's vision of facebook, either because he didn't completely understand the concept (he's resolved to placing advertising on the site as soon as possible), lacked knowledge of the actual product (he doesn't actually become familiar with the website's basic functionality or essential purpose), or just wasn't able to obtain the necessary funding required to fuel the company (he's clearly small-time compared to Parker in terms of obtaining substantial financing).

Personally, the more I reflect on the film, the more I believe that Fincher has a genuine compassion for Zuckerberg, perhaps because they share some similarities in their careers (obviously within their respective industries). Obviously, based on his prior work, Fincher is a director who understands obsession (and who, as Kehr points out, is obsessed with the concept of impermanence), so it's no surprise that Fincher understands the compulsion that drives Zuckerberg's actions and decisions. Through Fincher's perspective, Zuckerberg is definitely a dismal and somewhat tragic personality, who is destined to enjoy tremendous success, but who will continue to struggle with what Zuckerberg realizes is a limited potential within society. In the film's narrative, Zuckerberg's restrictions are not only a product of his inferior class status on the Harvard campus or in American society, but also because Zuckerberg recognizes, especially after his break-up, that his personality will always distance him from everyone.

I think Fincher and Sorkin also identify with the notion (whether accurate or not) that, at some point, to obtain great success and ascend within American society – without the benefit of security provided by the accumulated wealth acquired through your ancestry – you probably have to choose between personal accomplishment and personal connections. I think at some point, possible after his break-up, or after he gains notoriety on the Harvard campus, or after he realizes friends, such as Saverin, will eventually rise through society with greater ease while he struggles, Zuckerberg makes some sort of (conscious on unconscious) decision to concentrate on his craft, knowing he will eventually discard those around him. It's almost as if Zuckerberg pre-emptively isolates himself because he recognizes that he will eventually become isolated anyways.

The way I see it, the scene where Zuckerberg finds himself standing outside, peering at the mini-celebration of his success occurring inside his house, having just spoken with Eduardo about their accomplishments, isn't sad because Zuckerberg finds himself isolated yet again; it's sad because Zuckerberg realizes that he will never have a method of breaking down that barrier, no matter how much success he enjoys. Right before the Million-Member party, as Parker discloses his plans for the after-party; Eisenberg's facial expression conveys that Zuckerberg will never attend the festivities because he's chosen to bury himself within his work, realizing he would be naturally isolated at the party. It's a habit that provides comfort, just as it's easier for Zuckerberg to "act as an a$$hole" than it is to actually be one, because he comprehends that the disastrous conclusions to all his relationships are larger predetermined. Though the standard assumption is that Zuckerberg is a jerk because of his ambition, I get the sense that Fincher believes Zuckerberg is a jerk because it allows him to function without making connections that will eventually crumble. I think Zuckerberg recognizes almost immediately that Eduardo will lack the vision to make facebook a colossal success, but he also expects that their friendship will inevitably disintegrate anyway, so he takes anticipatory actions. In a sense, facebook seems to be the perfect creation for Zuckerberg, since he comprehends that all his connections to the people that surround him are superficial anyway.

The upcoming movie based on the book features cocaine, models, and dark, moody, lighting from the director who brought you Fight Club. It's a character assasination.

Yeesh. We all know dark and moody lighting from filmmakers associated with Fight Club equates to "a character assassination." The Business Insider should have avoided the compulsion to provide us with their opinions on the film.

[Mr Sausage]

You're of course right: the more responsible Zuckerberg becomes for other people's ability to connect socially, the more his own social connections dwindle. Fincher even visually bookends his film with this paradox, opening with an oppressive social atmosphere where the frame is crowded with bodies and the soundtrack filled with background chatter, and ending with an empty frame containing a lone Zuckerberg sitting in silence. Yet even tho' Zuckerberg is continually preempting the social rejections he knows must inevitably come, he seems very unaware of this. The effect of his actions on other people comes as curious surprise to him: he is genuinely nonplussed to discover that Saverin feels badly not just for having been robbed of credit and money, but for having been betrayed by a friend. Zuckerberg was too busy nursing his own feelings of betrayal and victimization to understand that he has caused enough of the same feelings in others.

The depositions do force Zuckerberg to confront his behaviour, however, and we can see a genuine change in him: he begins the movie by condescending to his girlfriend, moves to trying to impress her for being known by a lot of people he would not recognize, and ends by trying a (now) basic act of connection. For the first time in the whole movie, Zuckerberg actually waits in silence for someone else to respond.

Great post, Andre. Now if only you'd post more often.

[karmajuice]

Thought this was very enjoyable. I've never watched anything written by Sorkin before, and it veers dangerously close to "too clever for its own good" -- actually, it probably veers straight into it. But it was just so much fun, and so narratively engaging, I didn't mind.

I wonder about the ending, though.

Spoiler

The unrequited love aspect of the film is reductive and an obvious play for sympathy, but it does allow this great gesture at the end and, let's be honest, the film's Zuckerberg needs all the sympathy he can muster. While their first scene together is fantastic, we also get a very weak sense of their relationship and why Zuckerberg might have become so attached to her.

In any case, we have this moment at the end where he adds her on facebook, and I'm not exactly sure how to read it. Initially, I thought it ended on an optimistic note. Maybe it does. But something about it seems hopeless, almost pathetic, him sitting alone in a room hitting refresh on his laptop ad infinitum, thinking that this is a valid way to connect with someone. And again, maybe it is. I suppose the tone of the ending hinges on how you view facebook.

[Mr Sausage]

we also get a very weak sense of their relationship and why Zuckerberg might have become so attached to her.

I don't think their actual relationship had anything to do with it. It's the way it ended, and her words to him, that haunts Zuckerberg. I think we've all been through at least one break-up that was more memorable and life-altering than the relationship that preceded it.

I suppose the tone of the ending hinges on how you view facebook

I don't know that how you view Facebook has much to do with it. As I said in my earlier post, it is the first time in the movie that Zuckerberg actually waits patiently for someone else to respond, and puts value on that response. Perhaps it's a bit pathetic, but by that point even a small gesture on behalf of Zuckerberg means something.

[jojo]

I think Zuckerberg's unrequited "love"--as portrayed in the film--says more about his tendency to "fixate" on certain things and his inability to waver from these fixations. This ties into the obsessive aspect of his personality. I have a feeling that the script implies that Erica was very likely his first "real" relationship and so this relationship will always be "the one" in his mind. As you said, Sausage, it doesn't really matter about the quality of the relationship. For people like Zuckerberg, it rarely ever does anyway.

EDIT:

I was wondering what people here think about the treatment of the women in this film. To be sure, TSN is about a certain "boy's club" mentality, so as one might argue the misogynistic overtones simply reflect the point of view of the male characters. And certainly, the film rests on Zuckerberg's frustration with women. However, reading Sorkin's interviews, I am not so sure he is necessarily making any specifically pointed commentary about this issue. He has basically said that it just "happens to be" what the story requires. I don't know. There is some debate on some sites about Sorkin's past work being fairly callous with their female characters as well. Not having seen a lot of Sorkin stuff like, say, The West Wing, I can't really verify either way.

[Grand Illusion]

Facebook as art. I couldn't help but view The Social Network through the premise of Zuckerberg as a driven obsessive filmmaker (Fincher?)

Many reviews have referenced how Eduardo appears to be the only "sympathetic" character. Eduardo is the producer of the film (Facebook). He's invested. He owns a piece. But his creative visions are all wrong. He's a moderate, not an artist. He's a frat boy, but not too much to be off-putting. He's a proud parent of Facebook, but not so much that he's willing to give it away for free. He cares about the creation, but only so much that he can monetize it.

But genius isn't moderate. Zuckerberg is the auteur here, excellently crafted into the intellectual equivalent of a cornered animal by Jesse Eisenberg. He's willing to give his creations away for free. He's relentlessly expansionist, so long as he gets the credit. He is "A Mark Zuckerberg Production."

Zuckerberg is the quintessential suffering artist, socially-disabled but in a different way than Amadeus. As Mr Sausage mentioned, he simply lacks the innate tools for human interaction. So is he not sympathetic? Film audiences are implored for sympathy towards other characters with disabilities.

Of course, the Winklevoss brothers, as Aryan twin gods descended from a powerful attorney, will always get what they want. Especially as they row crew, the exact sport Zuckerberg's only love mentioned in the very first scene. Eduardo is in a fine position, capable of logirithms, holding a girlfriend, and investing capital. But what about the Long Island Jew who prefers hoodies and flip-flops to suits and loafers?

Sorkin has described Zuckerberg as a "tragic hero." And I agree with his assessment. After everyone gets money out of the venture, Zuckerberg remains the only one at the end that still doesn't have the requisite tools to get what ostensibly "truly matters," human interaction.

Despite the silly coda, it's to the Sorkin/Fincher two-headed giant's credit that the "heart" of the matter, human interaction, is not explicitly spelled out as it relates to the internet. The complex tangle is hinted at, but is not the central thrust of the narrative.

In fact, it's the willingness of the script to constantly undercut its portrayals that makes it so layered.

The most important way of undercutting their tragic hero is by portraying his tragic flaw (and disability) as his antisocial tendencies and unlikeability. In fact, the very genesis of his genius creation is perhaps its worst incarnation. I'm not talking about Facemash, which is simultaneously clever and misogynistic. Rather, Zuckerberg's initial blog posts about his girlfriend, revealing personal details, are potentially damaging. I find the attack on a single person posted via a college acquaintance to be particularly dangerous, especially viewed in the wake of the recent suicide of Tyler Clementi at Rutgers.

Andre Jureiu wrote an excellent paragraph on how Eduardo's lack of ambition and vision undercuts his entire claim to the enterprise of Facebook. Further, the Winklevoss brothers are undercut by being played as goofballs, just a step away from caricature by Armie Hammer. As an aside, it amazes me how the CGI face-replacement-on-a-body-double worked so well, yet the Winter's steaming breath looked ridiculously artificial.

Anyway, in addition to their portrayal as goofballs, Sorkin/Fincher leaves the question open as to whether they will always get what they want. Granted they lost the boat race and lost Facebook. They did, however, still place a very, very close second in the Olympic rowing and got money out of the whole deal. So are they winners or losers?

Also, the place where all this genius stems from, Harvard, is itself a paradox. A lair of brown caverns lead to either classrooms or parties replete with gorgeous people. The music isn't classical or respectful of this American institution representing our best and brightest. The score, while sometimes intrusive, is haunting, dissolving in and out of the sound design like a ghost.

Even the charismatic Timberlake has shades of grey as the apparent Mephistopheles. Does his role as Sean Parker lure Zuckerberg to California and convince him to ditch Eduardo? Or are these events simply a by-product of the inherent characterization of Zuckerberg? It's to Eisenberg's credit that moments in the film can be analyzed in regards to Zuckerberg's future plans for Eduardo. Perhaps Parker is even correct. Perhaps Eduardo is the definitive article in front of Facebook, a detrimental vestige from its birth, no longer needed and holding it back.

Does the film capture the zeitgeist of moment? I don't know. It certainly portrays and engages with a variety of different human interactions. We begin on a creative drive, why we create what we create, and we move on to examine and question intellectual, emotional, economic, romantic, academic, and obsessive relationships. Now imagine the internet didn't exist. Isn't that what we'd want from something called The Social Network?