The Social Network

 

Where were you during the spring of 2004? I, personally, was doing my final semester at U of Penn. One thing I did not recieve in my upenn.edu mailbox that semester was a miscellaneous e-mail (perhaps spam, perhaps not) asking me to join a social networking site called “thefacebook.com.” This is relevant because, during that particular spring semester, undergrads at some other Ivy League institutions (Harvard, Yale, Stanford, Columbia) were receiving such e-mails. The phenomenon of “Facebook,” a social networking site which has revolutionized (for better or for worse) how people socialize (in America and elsewhere) was under construction then. The 2010 movie The Social Network tackles this fateful moment in the history of the Internet and the technological revolutions which are shaping the twenty-first century. At the center of the action, of course, is Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg), a Harvard sophomore and computer programming genius. It would be difficult to say that the Aaron Sorkin screenplay portrays Zuckerberg as anything but an anti-hero: he’s jealous, vindictive, arrogant, and ruthlessly competitive. The movie also isn’t strictly about the American Dream; after all, Zuckerberg is a child of privilege about to become even more privileged.

What makes Jesse Eisenberg’s portrayal of Mark Zuckerberg so compelling is that Zuckerberg is also fiercely intelligent, good at repartee, attractive to look at, and so massively driven that he radiates raw charisma. The two other main characters, Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield) and Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake) are more than foils for Zuckerberg; they represent two distinct American archetypes themselves. Eduardo is warm, very human, but too trusting; the big knives are reserved for him. Sean is the quintessential corporate hustler; stylish, attractive, grandiose, but not particularly human or sympathetic. Sean is, in fact, the corporate West Coast personified (and an undercurrent in the film is Harvard meeting the West Coast head-on). Part of what makes The Social Network potentially an American classic is that we see these three figures both at work and at play; from Case Equity to bong-hits. They’re fun to watch, specifically because what they’re selling is young, fresh, sexy, and bankable. The idea which is threaded through the movie is that Zuckerberg is socially debilitated; and, as the end of the film makes clear, he never (unlike Eduardo and Sean) gets the girl. As the movie ends, we hear the Beatles track “Baby You’re a Rich Man,” and we are compelled to decide whether we consider Zuckerberg, monied but isolated, a rich man.

The supporting cast, from those Zuckerberg ruthlessly plundered (like Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss) to those portrayed as corrupt American patriarchs (Harvard President Larry Summers), all turn in excellent performances around similar themes: how privilege begets more privilege, how the rich stay rich and grow richer. One of the few materially humble characters in the movie is Erica Albright (Rooney Mara), a BostonUniversity undergrad and love interest of Mark Zuckerberg who he decides to insult online and never particularly gets over. Zuckerberg has “privileged” quirks: with Albright, he cannot apologize. Nor can he apologize to Eduardo Saverin. For all intents and purposes, The Social Network portrays Mark Zuckerberg as an attractive monster. But that he’s not simple, not one-dimensional and, to a thoughtful audience, loses just as much as he gains, redeems The Social Network into a movie which can be intellectually respected in a way that few movies in 2012 can. What’s standing between The Social Network and classic status is, to my way of thinking, just time. Even as I forgive Zuckerberg for what was missing in my in-box eight years ago.

Adam Fieled, 2012

 

Easy A

The 2010 movie “Easy A” would seem to fall squarely under the “teen” aegis. Simply put, teen movies are movies made for, and about, teenagers. The female protagonist of “Easy A,” Olive Penderghast (Emma Stone) is a teenager in Southern California. Though physically attractive, she suffers from feelings of loneliness and awkwardness. She’s creative and, like many teenagers these days, extensively involved in Internet pursuits. Over the course of the movie, she documents her experiences by making a webcast about them. Olive develops an interesting strategy to combat her feelings of loneliness- she pretends to be sexually overactive, and makes herself available for guys to make outrageous claims about her promiscuity. Olive seeks to identify with Hester Prynne, the protagonist of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “The Scarlet Letter” (the “A” in the movie’s title refers to the scarlet “A” for adultery Hester is forced to wear in the Hawthorne book, and that Olive briefly wears in the movie), but with a twist; Hester spends a good part of the book concealing that she’s had sex, while Olive spends the better part of “Easy A” concealing that she hasn’t had sex. The subtext is on some levels the same- excruciating, guilty awkwardness around female sexuality. The twists and turns of the plot of the movie fall around Olive’s adventures as a would-be slut. What makes “Easy A” stick so unusually is its complexity; the movie manages to weave in, not only Olive’s dalliance with Nathaniel Hawthorne but her fascination with 1980s teen classics like The Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, and Say Anything. The awkward teens in these movies usually get saved one way or another- by speaking to each other truthfully for once, or by a miraculous change-of-heart in a prospective romantic partner. Olive wants to be saved, as if her webcast were directed by John Hughes; and, in the end, when she is saved, she ends her webcast. The subplots in “Easy A” poke fun at Southern Californian high school culture- rather than Jeff Spicoli, we get Maryanne Bryant, a Jesus freak hitched to a twenty-two year old senior; Lisa Kudrow as a literally and conventionally adulterous guidance counselor; Olive’s well-meaning but flaky parents; and a whole cast of outcast guys, who seek to bribe Olive into admitting sexual activities with them. All of these elements wouldn’t necessarily work if the script weren’t sharply written- one delightful aspect of “Easy A” is Olive’s skill with repartee; when she is undressing in front of her squeamish gay friend Brandon, she quips, “What is it with you gay guys…what do you think I have down there, a gnome?” Olive is a sympathetic character because she’s able to make fun of herself and she’s honest. When she takes over a pep rally to advertise her webcast, singing “Knock On Wood” in Madonna-esque regalia, she’s able to be funny and sexy at the same time too. In a way, her sharp tongue one-ups the 80s Molly Ringwald teen movie archetypal ingenue- Olive’s creativity creates levels of empowerment in her that Ringwald never had (though the reddish hair and pout are similar). Olive is multi-faceted- she relates equally to Hester Prynne, Molly Ringwald, and Madonna. Thus, “Easy A” finds a way (as, arguably, Breakfast Club did, and for similar reasons) to elevate the “teen movie” into an art-form. It has given American culture a character as unique, tormented, funny, and ultimately compelling as Salinger’s Holden Caulfield. It also (crucially) allows an educated audience of any age to have fun and think at the same time.

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