[image description / transcription: a photo of an article in a magazine. the page is yellow and at the top is an artwork featuring cartoonish drawings of mark and eduardo in the social network, both holding the same piece of technology (possibly an ipad) and looking at it with displeased expressions. there is a white glow cast on both their faces. mark is on the left and eduardo is on the right. the background of the art is split into two colours: pink for mark and blue for eduardo. text at the bottom of the image reads, in all caps, “RELATIONSHIP STATUS: IT’S COMPLICATED”.
The article is in a sans-serif font (presumaby futura), printed in black, in two columns, with the heading spaced out in bold and the byline much smaller underneath. It reads as follows:
David Fincher is interested in men. He is fascinated by the idea of fraternity: his films look at how men related to other men at home (The Game), at school (The Social Network), at work (Se7en, Zodiac, House of Cards), even after work (Fight Club). There’s an intelligent bro-ishness to Fincher’s filmography, which wades through the mulch of contemporary masculinity, trying to make sense of it all with forensic curiosity. Yes, he is interested in men.
Aaron Sorkin’s script for 2010’s The Social Network states that Facebook (working title ‘Face Mash’) was born out of the bitter break-up between Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) and girlfriend Erica Albright (Rooney Mara). Yet, the film’s central break-up isn’t that famous, acerbic opening exchange. It’s the passionate, emotional, rage-fuelled monologue that Zuckerberg’s former best friend and business partner Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield) delivers after storming into Facebook’s offices. “You set me up,” says Saverin, breathless and on the verge of tears. The pain that pools in his eyes is that of an incredulous ex-lover.
The film is punctuated by small moments that suggest the bond between the former friends is more than brotherly. Take for example, the scene where Mark begins to explain Facebook’s relationship status function to the clueless Eduardo:
"People are gonna log on because after all the cake and watermelon, there’s actually a chance they’re gonna-“
"Get laid.”
"Meet a girl.“
Fincher and Sorkin aren’t the types to allow for anything other than absolute precision. Eduardo’s sexual ambiguity is deliberate. There’s a short sequence around the film’s midpoint that sees Mark and Eduardo go on a double date (though it’s more like a double fuck), locked in adjacent bathroom stalls with their respective groupies. The scene opens on Eduardo furiously kissing his date, though he pulls away abruptly, motioning her to listen to the happenings next door. She doesn’t care, but Eduardo is rapt, straining to hear the sound of his best friend getting a blowjob. The scene cuts from the stall door to a shot of the boys standing smug and rosy-cheeked outside of the bathroom. Mark looks straight ahead. Eduardo looks at Mark.
Later, Eduardo turns up outside Mark’s house in Palo Alto, drenched by the pouring rain. Is Fincher paying homage to Andie MacDowell’s rain-soaked ‘check-up’ in Four Weddings and a Funeral? Is it still raining? Has Eduardo noticed? Mark punches “Wardo” hello with an excess aggression/sexual frustration. “Wanna talk to me alone for a minute?” is Eduardo’s clipped response, their private lover’s quarrel playing out in hushed tones. “I want…I need you,” Mark tells Eduardo, for the second time in the film.
The Social Network is a story about the mixing of business and pleasure. It’s about growing up and growing apart. It’s about the demise of a relationship: the strain of long-distance love, the explosive break-up, the messy divorce depicted in the courtroom scenes. It’s about jealousy, bitterness and betrayal. It’s about heartbreak. It’s the greatest unrequited love story of our time.
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