An unlikely gem about an unlikely sensation

Rating: 9/10 (9 October 2010)

When it was announced that Hollywood was going to make a movie about the founding of Facebook, no one, including me, expected it to succeed. How could anyone turn a seemingly mundane subject such as Internet communication into a worthwhile film? Moreover, why would anyone want to? It appeared to be nothing more than Hollywood trying to cash in on the latest cultural phenomenon, a move no less sleazy than, say, churning out endless sequels to a tired franchise. And yet David Fincher and his team managed to not only prevent The Social Network from becoming an embarrassing failure, but they transformed it into one of the most critically acclaimed movies of the year and a prime Oscar contender.
How did they do it?
With The Social Network, Columbia Pictures faced the particularly tricky task of promoting a movie that, despite its much-admired director and screenwriter, held little evident appeal to any audience, mainstream or indie. Nonetheless, with subtle efficiency, Columbia managed to assemble a clever advertising campaign that steadily garnered the film hype – a simple poster featuring star Jesse Eisenberg and a catchy tagline; a riveting theatrical trailer that highlighted the movie's dark sense of humor and explosive arguments – and ultimately, it was clear that this was not a high-budget thriller or a quirky comedy but an intelligent, character-driven drama aimed primarily at adults, an increasingly rare genre nowadays. The buzz turned into legitimate excitement once The Social Network premiered at the New York Film Festival to glowing reviews.
Still, hype does not always translate to success (see: Changeling, The Lovely Bones). The Social Network fortunately escaped the fates of those early Oscar favorites-turned-critical duds, with help from the sure hands of director David Fincher, writer Aaron Sorkin and a cast of young, up-and-coming actors.
Arguably the most impressive aspect of the movie and certainly the most likely to acquire awards attention, Aaron Sorkin's screenplay is a labyrinth of wit, suspense and twists, the dialogue zipping like balls in a pinball machine. Sorkin, most famous for penning 1992's A Few Good Men and the beloved TV show The West Wing, shows off his deft hand with legal issues, generating tension and excitement from the most mundane activities, such as people discussing copyright laws at a conference table, which absorbs a generous portion of the movie. By telling the story through flashbacks, he weaves a beguiling mosaic of conflicted voices and hidden motivations, an intricate web of lies and betrayal, rejecting black-and-white ideals in favor of moral ambiguity and flawed, even despicable characters. This is a screenplay any aspiring writer (myself included) would admire and envy.
The cast, a truly impressive ensemble, delivers Sorkin's lines with deceptive ease, virtually disappearing into their respective characters, a feat most likely assisted by their collective anonymity. In a surprising yet inspired move, director David Fincher warned the actors against interacting with their real-life counterparts, as movie stars often do when portraying real people, discouraging them from doing impersonations instead of bona fide performances. Amid the universally solid supporting cast, Armie Hammer and Josh Pence stand out as Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss, respectively, even though Pence was faceless and voiceless (employing technology similar that used in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Fincher superimposed Hammer's face on Pence's body in an effort to make the non-related actors appear identical).
Nonetheless, it cannot be denied that the stars of the film – at least visibly – are its three male leads. By far the most well-known cast member, Justin Timberlake proves here for once and all that he has the talent needed to succeed in the film industry, that the promise shown in 2007's Alpha Dog was no fluke. As disgraced Napster co-founder Sean Parker, he exudes aplomb and charisma, the kind of brazen confidence one can expect only from a person well-acquainted with the world of celebrity and fame, and he manages to create sympathy – if only a little – for a vastly unlikable character by lending Parker a hint of childlike optimism along with the conceited swagger. In the most emotional role of the film, Andrew Garfield imbues Eduardo Sauverin with passion and drive, holding his own against his more well-known costars. Of the actors, he arguably has the best chance at nabbing awards attention as he gets a plethora of scenes to show off his budding talent.
Personally, though, I was most astonished by Jesse Eisenberg, the fresh-faced lead whose previous movie credits include 2009's Adventureland and Zombieland. Here, it is obvious that he is more than "another Michael Cera", playing Mark Zuckerberg as an arrogant yet socially awkward genius whose ambition and frustration override his central integrity. He remains, for the most part, emotionally detached, articulating Sorkin's lines with flawless deadpan acidity and relying largely on verbal nuances and body language to convey his character's feelings, yet he is so electric, so comfortable, that the audience has no trouble connecting to him. Possessing the maturity of actors twice his age, Eisenberg deserves an Oscar nomination for his performance.
Lastly, one cannot overlook the efforts of David Fincher and his technical crew. Utilizing mostly dark and mute shades, Fincher gives The Social Network a bleak yet polished vibe with significant help from the gorgeously atmospheric score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, which swerves between melancholy and vivacious without difficulty. Also, editors Kirk Baxter and Angus Wall do an impeccable job of intertwining the past and present story lines.
Against all odds, The Social Network has defied expectations and become a legitimate critical and box office hit. Skillfully assembled by a team of both veterans and amateurs and alive with humor and pathos, it is a film about friendship and rivalry, truth and fiction. The Social Network explores the fragility of human connections, the psychological barriers we erect to protect ourselves from each other.