The Social Network: College Drama and All That Is Capitalism

Mark Zuckerberg is, apparently, about as socially inept as the average IT guy, the one who creates his own tech kingdom at your corporate branch, government agency, school, or wherever. Such is how Mark's portrayed The Social Network; "not an asshole, just someone who's trying to hard to be one." In either case, he's America's youngest billionaire, and his creation, Facebook, drastically changed, and continues to change, online interaction.

To start, I note one of Social Network's strongest attributes: consistent intensity. Don LaFontaine, throughout his career, had to narrate at least one summer movie trailer a year that required him to voice "This summer's ultimate thrillride!," but for me (and I believe most viewers) it's an autumn drama about a dot-com startup that actually keeps the heart racing, more effectively than most of those forgettable Keanu Reeves vehicles. It's been a few days since viewing, and this still stands out the most. The intensity gives me pause, though: intensity, on its own, does not a great film make (this is especially true with one of Fincher's earlier works, Fight Club), but it can leave the mind a bit over-enthused for awhile. Thus, this review might lack objectivity that will settle in once I've calmed down.

That said, I believe David Fincher has finally made a masterpiece, with the help of Jeff Cronenweth's cinematography, Trent Reznor on the score, and a perfectly assembled cast (yes, even with respect to Justin Timberlake).

The film's timeframe is fall 2003 through fall 2004. One evening, Mark Zuckerberg wanders back to his Harvard dorm room from a breakup (brought about by his inferiority complex and passing his self-loathing on to a girl who would sink to date him), and drunkenly starts a project to take his mind off of things. The result is "Facemash," a website that uses pictures of female students from different residence servers at Harvard and compares them in pairs, allowing visitors to choose which one is the more attractive of the two. The site is a smash hit for a day or two, with traffic that crashes the residence server and leads to discipline against Mark.

Up to this point, the use of fact in the film is outstanding: Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) narrates the creation of facemash word-for-word from Zuckerberg's actual blog that he kept at the time of creation.

Not surprisingly, in addition to near-expulsion for hacking residence servers, a website comparing women based on looks leaves Zuckerberg quite unpopular with many students at Harvard, and here Mark hoped that Facemash would garner him popularity that would get him into one of the college's elite private clubs (that is, fraternites with more money and no Greek letters). It doesn't, but it does get the attention of two elite Harvard rowers who are twin brothers, Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss. They want Mark to code their exclusive Harvard social networking site, HarvardConnect (later named ConnectU, a social network that failed).

Mark agrees, and so the stalling begins. It's crafted as a subtle story of revenge: if you can't join them, beat them. For two months, Mark e-mails updates to the brothers (and their partner, Divya Narendra), saying that everything is going smoothly. Just days before the Facebook launch, Mark pulls the plug on working for HarvardConnect. Let the lawsuits begin!

This is but one plotline: Mark also has differences from the outset (that eventually results in a separate lawsuit) with his initial CFO and friend, Eduardo Saverin. As Facebook blossoms, the tensions only become worse.

Mark is about 19 years old at this point, as are most of his business associates. The Winklevoss brothers are perhaps around 21. It takes the entrance of Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), the seemingly washed-up founder of Napster, for an adult to come onto the scene. And he's around the ripe old age of 25.

College drama is easily forgotten by most: in college, conflicts disappear just as easily as they arise. Many adults never make better friends than the ones they had in college, because these are the guys and gals who knew them before they were somebody, who liked them even when there was nothing they could possibly get other than camaraderie. In college drama, all is easily forgiven. But what if college drama is worth billions of dollars? Such are the stakes in The Social Network; regardless of the film's historical accuracy, the lawsuits surrounding Facebook's origin continue even today.

Aside from fast-paced drama, I most appreciate Social Network's portrayal of the intensity of innovation. Harvard educated both Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg, though neither of them actually graduated. Two of America's richest entrepreneurs. Like Gates, Zuckerberg took ideas from others (in this case campus acquaintances, pre-existing websites (MySpace and Friendster were established before Facebook), etc.) and jumped on it. Perhaps the Winklevoss brothers did have the idea to make an exclusive online social network (restricting membership to college students with a ".edu" address for a specific college), but they handed it off to a kid and proceeded to sit on their hands and wait. Not surprisingly, they missed the bus (but walked off from their first suit with somewhere around $60 million, and are still looking for more).

Capitalism, or the free market, gets blamed for lots of things. We're well past the age of Adam Smith, and live in an time where government spending (that is, spending tax dollars paid by residents who earned them) is believed to actually prime the economy, despite nearly a century of history that proves otherwise. Facebook is considered a marvel, and the company is held in high esteem by liberals and conservatives a like (people of all political stripes utilize it for their respective causes). Everyone loves innovation and invention, but those who oppose free markets fail to explain how their alternatives provide as much (or sometimes any) incentive to create new things.

Is Facebook really better for society? The debate continues, but it's definitely a hot commodity. And it's still free to use, in exchange for a whole lot of personal data. The fascinating aspect of Sean Parker's entrance is that until he tells Mark about the potential of Facebook (billions instead of millions), Mark is overly cautious, even timid. Facebook was not entirely Mark's baby, but he surrounded himself with largely the right people and, years later, Facebook is probably here to stay for quite some time.

Feelings get hurt in free markets. People fail (Exhibit A: Who even remembers the Winklevoss ConnectU?). The ones who succeed do so because they produce what people want. It's sometimes a messy business, business, but 99.9% of the time the ends to justify the means.

That other .1%? Let the courts figure it out. Lawyers gotta eat, too.

The Miniseries: Where's the Love, America?

HBO begins a new miniseries this weekend, The Pacific. It's the first much-anticipated mini in America since, well, Band of Brothers. Once a decade, eh?

Considering that American critics often scoff at films with running times over three hours even in instances when such length is warranted, perhaps most non-HBO miniseries are doomed on arrival in the United States. On the other hand, the advent of TV-on-DVD and TiVo has led to plenty of weekend marathons: I know I'm not the only one who can plow through a 13-episode season of Mad Men or The Shield in two or three days (some prefer doing it one sitting). Given this not-too-uncommon approach, I think it's fair to give the miniseries a good plug. Long a staple in England and elsewhere, it's only in rare instances that a mini is produced in America or by Americans. As basic cable networks move more and more into original programming (e.g., both series I just mentioned), shorter seasons are required to ensure the right per-episode budget. Why not aim for more one-shot style programming?

Many minis come from novels, and a quick comparison shows that given the right amount of running time a novel can be adapted far more faithfully (i.e., better) than in a feature film. Jane Austen provides good examples: though the 127-minute Pride and Prejudice (2005) is quite good, it does not live up to the BBC's 300-minute mini of the same title (1995). Even Sense and Sensibility (1995), a bona fide Hollywood masterpiece, cedes ground to a more recent mini (2008). By way of introduction to my fellow American viewers, I offer three of my personal favorite minis:

Brideshead Revisited (1981)

Recently victimized by an awful Hollywood adaptation, Evelyn Waugh's novel of friendship, Catholicism, and the decay of the British aristocracy following World War I also enjoys the privilege (even 30 years later) of being standard-bearer for all other minis. "Spared no expense" does not always produce art (e.g., this, and, oh yeah, this), but for Brideshead it was essential. The dialogue and narration is taken almost verbatim from the novel and supplemented with cinematography that would better suit the big screen (especially considering the average size of televisions in 1981). Though only Jeremy Irons enjoys prominence in America today, the series also launched Anthony Andrews, who's continued to own almost every part since (my previous lazy post features a clip from Under the Volcano, a film that benefits from a small but integral supporting role by Andrews).

The story of Brideshead is a sort of bell curve that traces Charles Ryder's (Irons's) life from college through middle age and his experience with the Flytes, a very Catholic, very wealthy and very troubled family. It begins with a deep friendship between Charles and the youngest male Flyte, Sebastian (Andrews), but then transitions into Ryder's adulterous love for Sebastian's sister Julia. A descent from skeptical agnosticism to full-blown atheism parallels this. An otherwise self-indulgent lifestyle leaves one quite angry and unsympathetic to Charles.

The bell curve slowly inches down into despair, but it suddenly swoops up, prompted by the sudden re-appearance of God, Whom Charles made every (seemingly successful) effort to banish. This is shocking, even devastating, and one of the most realistic, faithful portrayals of Christianity put onto film. I suspect those with faith will recognize God's victory with relief, perhaps even relish, and only hope those who empathize with Charles's efforts to destroy God learn more of Christianity from their viewing experience rather than take it as mortar to keep building walls.

Band of Brothers (2001)

The jury is still out on The Pacific, but it has a lot to live up to. Even though Band of Brothers is one of the few American-financed minis, it was produced entirely in England. The work is adapted from a book by Stephen Ambrose of the same title, and it is very well-regarded (or at least heard of) by many TV-watching Americans.

The series follows the exploits of Easy Company of the 101st Airborne Division in World War II, from basic training through D-Day and all the way to the end of the war. Within this narrative are various stories of individuals, with most respective episodes focusing on different members of the company. Since this is such a popular series, and because its popularity will only spike again in light of The Pacific, there is not too much to add but my own recommendation. If you haven't watched Band of Brothers, do so.

The Last Place on Earth (1985)

In 1911, just prior to World War I, there were still parts of Earth unseen by man. One place was the South Pole. Roald Amundsen of Norway and Robert Scott of Great Britain both had their sights on this pole. Their respective attempts were nominally scientific expeditions, but there was no hiding the potential prestige that would come to the explorer who first conquered the Antarctic (not to mention his country). It was a race.

Like Brideshead, Last Place on Earth is perfected visual craftsmanship. Perhaps it's silly to say, but one can almost feel how cold it is in Antarctica just by watching. The acting, from lead roles by Martin Shaw (Scott) and Sverre Ousdal (Amundsen) down to a small supporting part by Hugh Grant (his second acting job) is excellent. And the story never lets up. Unlike the admittedly slow (though that's not to say boring) pace of Jane Austen minis, even the less dramatic parts of the narrative convey tension, perhaps even dread: Antarctica is not a place to visit, but a force to be reckoned with.

Last Place on Earth pulls no punches against Scott and what I can only classify as his distinct pre-WWI British arrogance. Some reviewers have called some of this criticism unfair. Nevertheless, it is fascinating to see the difference between the explorers and their expeditions. Both take to the race with vigor, but only Amundsen appreciates the danger. The expeditions each face setbacks and danger, but where the Norwegians conquer the British blunder. Perhaps there is no better film that juxtaposes a narrative of victory and one of tragedy so well.

Each of these minis are 5/5 stars, and well-worth owning for repeated viewings.

As I mentioned earlier, the miniseries is unfortunately under-utilized. I recently watched the made-for-TV Pirates of Silicon Valley and think it had all the makings of a miniseries, but was instead crammed into about 90 minutes. Even then, some stories that are made into minis (like ESPN's The Bronx is Burning) are so crammed with commercials they hardly ever get around to telling a coherent story (though, for sports fans, perhaps quick-burst clips are the way to go). Nevertheless, there are a number of great miniseries out there, and they live up to some of the best films.