Is The Social Network Still Relevant?

It’s impossible to talk about a biopic of a fallen neo-liberal idealist without looking at the social and economic landscape of Silicon Valley at the time. In the mid-'90s, during the dot-com boom, tech startups thrived under the belief that technology would liberate society—a movement known as the Californian ideology. This new wave of laid-back innovators, rejecting traditional corporate culture, saw themselves as the future, using tech to challenge big business while also seeking elite status in the labour force. But beneath this utopian vision was a contradiction: their faith in technological determinism ultimately fed into the same capitalist system they aimed to disrupt, paving the way for figures like Gates, Jobs, and Zuckerberg.

Back in the early days of Facebook, Mark Zuckerberg was seen as a socially awkward genius who changed the way we connect online, breaking down barriers of exclusivity. But over time, he’s come to represent something very different. No one could have predicted that a simple social networking site would evolve into a major threat to privacy and free speech—proving the idea that if something is free, you’re probably the product. Other platforms followed suit, using personal data to target ads and predict consumer behavior.

This loss of online privacy made people skeptical of both Facebook and Zuckerberg himself. When The Social Network hit theaters in 2010, concerns about data security weren’t as mainstream—Zuckerberg was still the boy wonder, and the film fueled the public’s fascination with him. It’s one of my favourite movies from the 2010s, but when I rewatched it with friends, I was surprised they didn’t enjoy it as much. Their take? The film glorifies the “boy genius” myth while celebrating Silicon Valley’s toxic, hyper-capitalist, and misogynistic culture.

It’s weird because I always saw the movie the opposite way—as more of a critique than a celebration, with Mark as an antihero rather than a success story. Over the years, people’s takeaways from The Social Network have shifted, with some seeing it as a time capsule and others as a relic. Angela Watercutter put it best: “The Social Network is something of a decoder ring for popular opinion about Facebook at any given time. Watch it in 2010, and it might feel much darker than anything associated with the company needed to be. Watch it today, it almost seems like the company got off light.” A lot of people view the film as a classic hero’s journey—Mark starts as an underdog and climbs to the top through sheer talent and determination.

The movie leans into the stiff, elitist atmosphere of Harvard, from its out-of-touch dean to its old-money frat culture. The Winklevoss twins are the ultimate embodiment of that, acting as both physical and ideological foils to Mark. He clearly resents guys like them, seeing his social struggles—especially with women—as a result of not fitting into their world. As an outsider, he breaks rules, crosses ethical lines, and proves his worth by gaining money, power, and influence. But in the end, he’s just a guy sitting alone at his computer, refreshing Erica Albright’s Facebook page, which drives home the idea that, beneath all the success, he’s still just a person searching for connection.

When analyzed in this context, the film can be seen as propaganda for the Californian ideology. Mark frequently scoffs at authority and protests against any infringement on his sense of freedom, often mocking and belittling lawyers or businessmen who fail to grasp his ideals. This behaviour extends not only to investors but also to his best friend Eduardo, who, for the majority of the film, funds Mark's ventures and supports him through his missteps. Mark is uncooperative with almost everyone in his field—except Sean Parker, the failed billionaire CEO who is infamously still remembered. Sean embodies the countercultural ethos of Silicon Valley and personifies everything Mark aspires to be.

Sean is intelligent, charismatic, smooth-talking, and, perhaps most importantly, effortlessly cool. He is a rule-breaking bad boy who has already conquered the free market game, coming off as Mark’s biggest inspiration and a key figure in helping him reach his goals. While this interpretation of the film is valid, I’ve always viewed The Social Network as more of a character study, a courtroom drama, or a gripping thriller of power dynamics, rather than a traditional hero's journey. From the 1st few scenes we see of him with Erica, Mark is blindly ambitious and deeply insecure, not an outsider indifferent to fitting in, but someone who seems desperate to climb the social hierarchy, no matter who he betrays along the way. Mark is also a bad friend, ignoring and disparaging Eduardo, and is easily influenced by Sean Parker.

Seeing The Social Network as an anti-American Dream story helps put Mark’s betrayals and privacy violations into perspective—no matter how much the film admires Facebook’s meteoric rise. Guys like Mark and Sean don’t seem to have any ideology beyond wanting to be rich and admired, but in the end, all that ambition just leaves Mark isolated and miserable. It almost feels like anyone chasing the classic capitalistic dream is bound to step on countless people to get there.

Some people see this kind of rise to power as a critique—like I do—while others take it as a celebration of hard work and talent, something I like to call the Wolf of Wall Street effect. That movie took the excess and corruption of Wall Street to such an absurd level that a lot of young men completely missed the point, treating it as a how-to guide for success. Over time, though, it hasn’t aged well, and more people recognize it as the critique it was meant to be. To me, the guys in The Wolf of Wall Street have always been pathetic, self-destructive losers who never found any real fulfillment beyond exploiting others. I honestly can’t understand how anyone could see it differently—even Scorsese probably meant it as a brutal takedown.

Aaron Sorkin wrote The Social Network like a courtroom drama, focusing on Mark’s ruthless tactics to achieve something only a mind like he could pull off. He highlights Mark’s ambition to create a utopian social network that brings people closer—only for it to end up doing the exact opposite. While not all viewers fully grasp the collapse of the Californian ideology, David Fincher takes a more neutral approach, presenting Mark as a fascinating figure who channels emotions like anger and revenge to fuel his rise from hacker to CEO.

Fincher’s hypnotic score and slick cinematography can sometimes make Mark seem cool, even when the film is showing his worst moments. I think both Sorkin and Fincher see parts of themselves in Mark, admiring his drive and intelligence. But where Sorkin’s sharp dialogue condemns him, Fincher’s stylish direction almost lets him off the hook.

After The Social Network came out, Mark Zuckerberg’s strategy was basically to ignore it. At first, he refused to watch it and dodged any discussion about it. He later showed up on Saturday Night Live with Jesse Eisenberg to be polite but admitted afterward that the movie still bothered him. Some people took that as a sign he was unfairly portrayed, even though earlier drafts of the script had input from Facebook’s team to fact-check certain details.

Surprisingly, the film never ran into legal trouble, even during Zuckerberg’s peak years at Facebook—years before his biggest privacy and security scandals came to light. Since then, his public image has tanked, with more and more corruption being exposed. Looking back, the movie almost feels too tame, not fully capturing the scale of what he would go on to do. But The Social Network remains fascinatingly ambiguous. Even though I’ve picked apart its inaccuracies, it still nails the archetypes, ambitions, and cultural mindset of that era.

Whether you feel for Mark by the end or not, it’s worth remembering that The Social Network is a fictionalized take on his story, built around character arcs and narrative beats meant to craft a compelling film. The real-life impact of Zuckerberg and Facebook is still up for debate, especially as we continue living in the world they helped shape. But for me, the movie goes beyond just being about him—it taps into the myth of the male genius, a lasting illusion that thrives in a world obsessed with capitalism and innovation.

The Social Network isn’t just a great film—it’s one of the most important cultural artifacts of our time. But can we still empathize with someone who’s actively contributing to societal harm? Back in 2010, the line between Zuckerberg and the rest of us felt much thinner. Now, with the rise of tech delusions, "bro" culture, and the metaverse, that line has both blurred and thickened. Can we still see the human side of someone like Mark Zuckerberg? I’m not so sure. And yet, the film—through its stylized, fictionalized lens—seems to suggest that, at least at one point, we could.