The Social Network And Storytelling

Caesar And His Imperial Pyjama Pants

If you can stop creeping your friends long enough to go to a movie theatre, you should probably go see The Social Network. Aaron Sorkin’s dialogue is hyperactively clever, David Fincher’s visuals are clinically perfect, and Jesse Eisenberg’s ability to project fussiness is finally used for evil instead of good. And once you’ve finished – if you don’t run home to delete your profile – you should read this long New Yorker profile on the man himself, Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg.

I don’t think you should read it to give you some fresh perspective on who Zuckerbeg is, or what really happened when Facebook was founded. I'm sure the guy we saw in The Social Network bears only a minimal resemblance to the real thing, but I'm not all that interested in what that would be anyway. What's neat is to see what was left out, what was changed, and what that says about our narrative expectations of the rich and the assholish.

For one thing, Zuckerberg's long-time girlfriend Priscilla Chan, who we meet in the article in an awkwardly stagey way, is completely out of the movie. Well, unless she's one of the Asian girls who give Zuckerberg and Facebook co-founder Eduardo Saverin blowjobs in the bathroom. Instead, we meet his white, well-spoken ex who provides the spark for starting and growing Facebook by rejecting him. The movie even ends with a superficially current tableau, where Zuckerberg friends her and waits, refreshing the page, to see if she accepts his request.

Well then, where did Priscilla Chan go? She was ditched so we could have a traditional, psychological narrative, where the engine driving the success is a personal failure. Starting a site for sexual vengeance makes more sense in this framework than the straightforward empire-building that comes out of the New Yorker piece.

It also allows the movie to play one of the most satisfying of narrative tropes, where vast wealth is gained but at a loss of all connection. Zuckerberg hitting refresh is just Charles Foster Kane alone in his mansion, except with worse tailoring. It would be hard for anyone in the audience to have more money than Zuckerberg, but at least they can congratulate themselves for having a warm body to go home with after the credits roll. Knowing "Zuck" gets to curl up with Priscilla and his DVDs just isn't as tasty.

I'm not saying that I mind Fincher and Co. making these changes. I probably enjoyed the movie more. I just find it interesting that traditional narrative expectations prevail even when we're dealing with a true story, about a new technology, developed recently enough that facts can be checked. It appears there are some things even more powerful than the urge to stalk the Facebook walls of people you hate.

(Oh look, Max rambled about the movie here. Why not check it out?)