The “Jesse Armstrong Experience” is nothing short of a sensational expedition in satirical examination. It initially folded into the culture with the creation of his HBO Max television show Succession, which ran for five years, even though he’s been writing for TV since the early 2000s. Succession defined what he could offer in terms of insight into the untouchable elite and their dark, depraved vision of a world they believe they keep from pure discontinuance. Armstrong, back to his usual billionaire blazing, this time in feature-length format with Mountainhead, picking right up where Succession left off, black escalades and all, once again proving his style to be entertaining, engaging, and perhaps even a bit exhausting.
Upon the top of a snow-capped peak in Utah lies a luxurious chalet, complete with sauna, floor-to-ceiling glass windows, and not one, but two, bowling alleys, as billionaire-owner Hugo Van Yalk (Jason Schwartzman), otherwise known among his deep-pocketed buddies as Souper, is so very keen to state. Mountainhead, as he names it, plays host to a bros hang out sesh that features the who’s who in the world of tech billionaires–Venis (Cory Michael Smith), the founder of the most popular social media platform in the world, Randall (Steven Carell), a mogul who can’t accept the fact that there is no cure for the “tiny piece of grizzle” within his body, and Jeff (Ramy Youssef), the quick-witted AI developer whose tech is keeping the world from falling into donwright destruction. What happens when all four of these big shots get together under one roof? Exactly what you think… and some of what you don’t.
Mountainhead analyzes the real-time fallout taking place after Venis’ social media platform, Traam, incites unbelievable amounts of violence due to a global upgrade that features deepfakes being generated to parallel hyper-realistic catastrophic events all over the world. With the chaos the upgrade sparks, and the near-impossible discernment between what cataclysms are authentic and which are fictitious, the modern-world, along with the billionaires that own nearly all of the tech that determine the narrative of said events, enter a doom spiral that progressively gets darker, deeper, and more dastardly, revealing their personal interests along with their moralistic shortcomings.
“Nothing means anything and everything’s funny…” utters Venis, shortly after the boys bash kicks off, in the hopes that his retort will clear his conscious and ease the judgement of Jeff, Soups, and most importantly Randall, or Papa Bear as everybody refers to him, due to his seemingly sage business wisdom in the face of panic.
The more tragedies that transpire, the greater the need becomes for Venis to strike a deal with Jeff to obtain his AI tech that acts as a social-media guardrail in piercing the proverbial deepfake plastic wrap that is suffocating the accuracy of global news. Jeff, of course hesitant to become involved in the moral malpractice that Traam engages in, becomes defensive, ideating on a bigger plan of how to get Venis out of Traam and take over the entire endeavor (read: save the authenticity of social media and stop the world from pillaging, pilfering, and plundering itself into irreversible damage).
Strategizing, alliances, and “galaxy-brained” conspiracy theories of how they would take over the government of certain countries all come to fruition, eventually leading to a pretty dastardly final act that hammers home the film’s thematic interests.
The uneasy feeling of trying to one-up one another with their tech accomplishments and, more importantly, their net worth, which is nearly hundreds of billions, except for Soups, who seems to be “allergic to b-nuts,” is apparent from the get-go. Armstrong displays his monstrously quippy and quick-minded writing abilities, mirroring much of what gave Succession so much bite. This, however, isn’t Succession, regardless of how much it may feel like it. And it’s rather apparent.
I’m unsure if it’s the lack of a commanding score to drive the apprehensive energy, the compounding of the narrative to just over 100 minutes instead of four seasons, or the fact that the story itself, while feeling energetic and prescient, especially for the times we are living in now, equals out to nothing intrinsically revolutionary for Armstrong. The question is how quickly the billionaires feel the need to indulge in power and push aside the human devastation in order to maintain, and even grow, their worth, power, and perception is worth exploring, as it eerily mirrors our daily reality. Paralleling a Ruben Östlund mode of storytelling, Mountainhead is simultaneously subtle and straightforward, offering both the best and the worst of its satirical nature.
Cory Michael Smith, in a spirited performance that features him needing to rub one out before a meeting with a board member in hopes of “tactical cum-shedding” as Soups puts it, drives the single-location story as he seamlessly fits into the world Armstrong created. Ramy Yousseff, who also indulges in a multitude of crass sexual razzes as tensions rise, is a delight to watch as he relishes in his like-minded delivery of so many of Armstrong’s high-minded quips. Carell is, well, Carell, in both good and bad ways, inescapable as his alter-ego of Michael Scott for those of us who grew up falling asleep to The Office every single night, no matter the amount of grey hair and high-IQ business talk exhibits.
At the end of the day, Mountainhead, while a seemingly forgettable straight-to-streaming satire that successfully explores the intriguing thematic resonance of the mega-wealthy and their insight, or lack thereof, into how to serve the best interest of the mass public, still entertains and excites those missing Succession. It isn’t anything superb for a directorial debut, but it offers an avenue for Jesse Armstrong to do what he does best, and that’s enough for a movie that is better than 90% of the other straight-to-streaming slop that is out there (I’m looking at you, Fountain of Youth!). Still, once the credits rolled, I wished that I could break a few more Greggs to make one more Tomlette.
Review Courtesy of Ethan Simmie
Feature Image Credit to HBO via Punch Drunk Critics