In anticipation of David Fincher’s new film, Mank, Film Critic David Cohen looks back on his masterpiece, The Social Network
For film lovers, the end of 2020 brings an early Christmas with the release of Mank onto Netflix on the 4th of December. All that needs to be said is that it is a film about Citizen Kane directed by David Fincher. Those two facts are as close to a formula for accolades and praise as one can possibly get. As the premiere on our TVs and laptops grows nearer, it seems appropriate to prepare for the film by looking at what is, arguably, Fincher’s masterpiece: the film where he turned a plot about coding and business into one of triumph, talent, and betrayal and made one of the most entertaining films of the 21st century, The Social Network.
Plotting the rise of Facebook and its evolution of our online world, The Social Network follows Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) and Eduardo Saverin’s (Andrew Garfield) doomed bond as money and spite bleed their friendship dry. There is no easy place to start with this film – nearly every element is crafted with such care and understanding, and the praise even the smallest details deserve could fill catalogues of reviews.
The soundtrack by Atticus Ross and Trent Reznor beats with anxiety and a hypnotically doomed tone, itself being a reaction to the dialogue and scenes. In sombre moments, the lone piano keys make it devastating, and the compulsively exciting scenes are made even more addictive with every chord. When coupled with the deliberately static or fluid camera movements by Fincher, you can’t help but be seduced into the drama of each word that the actors spit at each other.
Just to be decadent, The Social Network also has a gallery of Oscar-nominated actors and actresses supporting the two leads: Armie Hammer (two of him through the miracle of movie magic) and Max Minghella play the Winklevoss twins and Divya Narendra respectively and are perfectly fitted into their traditionally antagonistic roles. They are bullish and patronising and ultimately afforded sympathy only in retrospect as the film and audience grow to revile Zuckerberg. Justin Timberlake and Rooney Mara are also amongst the cast, as Sean Parker and Erica Albright, and, whilst they do well in the film, when there is such talent being thrown around between the main two actors, it is expected and not entirely upsetting that their roles, whilst fine, get lost in between the lines on the page.
You can’t help but be seduced into the drama of each word that the actors spit at each other
The music is intoxicating, and the technical feats are astonishing, and yes, the supporting cast are all great in their roles. However, every available praise and accolade has to be dedicated to Eisenberg and Garfield.
Eisenberg gets the opportunity to show his talents in a way he doesn’t often do, and he does an incredible job. Channelling the simultaneous brilliance and isolation his Zuckerberg occupies at every moment, Eisenberg is surgically specific with the way he delivers lines. Rarely lifting his gaze and shuffling in his grey hoodie most of the time, the timid physicality Eisenberg brings to the role is initially endearing and sympathetic, and yet there is a venom to even the compliments in his lines that makes this one of the actor’s greatest performances. The balance between hyper-active intellectual monologuing and the silent moments reflecting on the pain he has caused speaks to the way this character thinks and feels, expressing his pain in the silent syllables. If the task of a great actor is to allow the audience access to their character’s psychology, Eisenberg delivers one of the best performances of the millennium so far.
As Saverin, Garfield has the more colourful role. As the one who has to ground Zuckerberg, he acts as a constant reminder of reality for the ambitiously obsessive coder. Garfield is tragically amazing, speaking with such vulnerability and optimism throughout – the trusting intonation in his voice barely falters. His eyes are always wide whilst his mouth is just a millimetre ajar; his softness delivers some of the more heart-breaking lines in the film, providing it a quietly painful humanity. He has the charm and swagger that Zuckerberg lacks, and the immediacy with which Garfield delivers his lines is always powerful, whether he is so overwhelmingly trusting towards his evaporating friendship or is bruised and betrayed by that same friend. Watching Garfield in the role, especially towards the end, is crushingly magnetic, and his role here belongs in the ranks of some of the greatest supporting actor roles of all time.
There is nothing new in this review that anyone who has seen the film didn’t already know. It moves at whiplash speed and yet somehow, it feels emotionally slow and deliberate. Nothing, from the soundtrack to the set design, feels wasted or unnecessary. The direction is typically phenomenal, and the quantity of Oscar-worthy acting is almost overwhelming at points. As 2021 looms its (hopefully less apocalyptic) head around the corner, at least there is the certainty that Fincher will keep doing what he does best – making masterpieces.
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