‘The Social Network’ At 10: Looking Back At A Founder’s Mystique Gone Awry, And The Creation Of A Monster

The Social Network, written by Aaron Sorkin and directed by David Fincher, winner of best adapted screenplay, editing, and score at the 2011 Oscars, turns 10 years old on October 1st. 10 years seems short in film years, but a lifetime in social media years. If movies haven’t changed much in that time, Facebook certainly has.

It’s impossible to separate The Social Network from the social media milieu it depicts, and in which it was created, a story about a group of inventors that is fundamentally tied to our shifting view of what they invented. In 2010, Facebook wasn’t that far removed from its founding (in 2003), and its mission statement hadn’t evolved all that much. It was still, in the view of the general public, a place where one shared pictures and relationship statuses, posted thoughts and chatted, doing more or less what the site had originally intended: making and maintaining connections, lubricating the social networking process.

Watching The Social Network‘s most memorable trailer now, the one with the Scala & Kolacny Brothers women’s choir singing Radiohead’s “Creep,” which (arguably kickstarted the craze for trailers set to slowed-down dramatic covers) it’s striking how much it looks like a contemporary ad for Facebook:

Punk. Genius. Prophet. Traitor. Billionaire.

Inasmuch as The Social Network promised a lurid exposé of Facebook’s “asshole” founder (quoting Rooney Mara in the movie’s first scene), everything about the film’s initial marketing seemed geared towards convincing us that everyone was really cool. Just listen to the initial marketing:

David Fincher’s The Social Network is the stunning tale of a new breed of cultural insurgent: a punk genius who sparked a revolution and changed the face of human interaction for a generation, and perhaps forever. — Sony Pictures Entertainment

A revolutionary punk genius! Mark Zuckerberg! It’s hard to remember a time when the guy who frequently becomes a joke meme for his ghostly sunscreen, casual munching of dry toast, and pathological repetition of the word “smoked meats” could be considered a punk, a revolutionary, or maybe even a genius.

Mark Zuckerberg’s use of sunscreen. pic.twitter.com/IXQbdSSMOq