How The Social Network Nails Sexism
If there’s one thing I love about The Social Network (and there are many things: Jesse Eisenberg, Trent Reznor’s excellent score, etc.,) it’s the dialogue. Really, I would be happy just to listen to The Social Network. Between Eisenberg’s heartless monologues, the dizzying conversation at the restaurant (which sounds like it was fueled not by appletinis, but by some new kind of amphetamine,) and the exquisite metaphor about the trout and the marlin, The Social Network leaves me breathless every time I watch it.
Aaron Sorkin’s screenplay is crackling. Every line, every word, every scripted pause is perfect; the script is lean and mean. Not a single word is wasted and there are none to be spared. This has the curious effect of achieving two things: of being deliciously unrealistic and, at the same time, of being agonizingly familiar. Let’s start by recognizing that, much to his disappointment, Mark Zuckerberg doesn’t talk like Eisenberg does in this movie. Is he a jackass? Yes. Is he, at all times and all costs, convinced he’s 100% right and smarter than everyone else in the room? Most certainly. Don’t believe me, watch his Harvard Commencement Speech. He practically admits it. Does he, however, have the ability to talk circles around everyone in Silicon Valley, like he does in the movie? I truly, sincerely doubt it. How do I know? Because Eisenberg’s Zuckerberg is fictional. This isn’t meant to be a slander of Mr. Sorkin, far from it. The Social Network is entertaining because it’s entertaining to watch one character verbally annihilate another. The breathtaking speed and acuity in every line is a testament to the prowess of the screenplay. Watching The Social Network is like gripping a live wire: I find myself rooted to the spot, hair on end, every nerve singing. It is an otherworldly thrill.
Why, then, does the language in The Social Network feel paradoxically familiar? To answer this, we have to examine what the movie is really about. There are two plots that we cut between throughout: the invention and creation of Facebook, and the legal fallout Zuckerberg faces as a result of it. These plot lines are clearly connected by cause and effect. The editing pulls a great deal of weight here: we see Zuckerberg ignore the Winklevi (a plural that delights me to no end) in real time, then we cut to Zucc’s lawyer defending him from accusations of the (now alleged) neglect.
I would argue, however, that there is a deeper, stronger thread that twines around nearly every scene in The Social Network. That is simply Zuckerberg’s (and Parker’s, and the Winklevoss’s, and pretty much every other character’s) disdain for women. Misogyny drives this movie.
In the opening scene, Zuckerberg’s girlfriend dumps him. Instead of handling this rationally, he gets drunk, rants about her on his blog, and creates the violently sexist FaceMash. Zuckerberg builds The Facebook on an idea that he (allegedly) stole from the Winklevi; namely, the idea that people (girls) would be more interested in meeting (sleeping with) people they met on a site with an electronic doorman — that most lauded of educational email domains: @harvard.edu. Just before he launches the site, Zucc adds a critical element: the relationship status. In his mind, it’s what “drives life at college. ‘Are you having sex or aren’t you?’” The Facebook offers users more than just a chance to meet girls, but the chance to know if they’re available. It’s an instant success. Facebook (sans the The) explodes; Zuckerberg becomes Silicon Valley’s darling, and his early investor and CFO Eduardo Saverin is left in the dust. Saverin, furious at being left behind, accosts Zuckerberg and delivers that sublime line, “lawyer up, asshole.” And so we arrive at the final scene. Zuckerberg’s cases aren’t going well: he is going to end up settling with Saverin for a good deal of money. He sits alone in a conference room, slumped in his chair, repeatedly refreshing his ex-girlfriend’s Facebook page, waiting for her to friend him. Blackout.
The sexism that lurks throughout this movie is painful because it’s believable. I, admittedly, did not attend an Ivy League school, but I did spend my share of time at college parties. I’ve been in those “girls to the front” lines we see at the Final Clubs. I’ve had men speak to me the way Zuckerberg speaks to Albright in the opening scene. (Would that I was so witty to give the reply she does.) I’ve spelunked through Facebook and Instagram and Tinder, etc. ad nauseum and seen the misogynism that infests each one. The dismissive, supercilious way Sean Parker speaks to every girl he encounters (the waitresses, the VS model, the “bong hits!” girls) hits me like a blow because I’ve been those girls.
So here is where I am really blown away by Sorkin’s screenplay. How did he so perfectly capture the experience of being a woman on a college campus and a woman online? Each snide remark, each dismissal, each “bitch” is perfectly placed. The sexism is there, but it’s not the main focus. The Social Network isn’t about Mark Zuckerberg being shitty to girls, although it could have been. Instead, we see the misogyny creep alongside the plot, always present, but carefully hiding. This is how I, a student and a Facebook user, most frequently experience misogyny. I’ve been called a bitch, yes, but more often I am brushed aside, talked over, or used as a prop. Cheers to Sorkin. His screenplay clearly shows the same devotion to creating a misogynistic atmosphere for its female characters as it does to creating a fantastic one for the men. Either that, or it was a complete mistake and he just hates women. But I sincerely doubt that.
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