When Aaron Sorkin announced he was making a follow-up to The Social Network (2010), he set himself on a steeper uphill climb than most directors will ever have to face. Now, The Social Reckoning is about to hit theaters, and it’s impossible to discuss it without comparing it to that collaboration between him and David Fincher. Sorkin simply isn’t writing at the level he was 16 years ago, and he no longer has Fincher in the director’s chair. The result is a film that can’t find its momentum, its style, or, most glaringly, a cohesive narrative. 

The Social Reckoning tells the story of Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen (Mikey Madison) and investigative journalist Jeff Horwitz (Jeremy Allen White) in the lead-up and aftermath of the publication of “The Facebook Files.” The publication detailed the promotion of harmful and false content through Facebook’s algorithm and the complete lack of response or regulation on the part of the company.

On a micro level, The Social Reckoning has major issues in almost every department of production. For one, it doesn’t look good. With cinematographer Jeff Cronenweth’s resume, you’d expect a movie that doesn’t look like a colorless smudge, but that’s what you get. It looks like the worst version of a modern Netflix show, which is hardly surprising given that most Netflix shows now look like knockoff Fincher movies. The score is so humdrum it almost evades notice, a rare misfire from composer Alexandre Desplat. The editing does little to establish notable pacing or tension, also disappointing given Alan Baumgarten’s prior collaborations with Sorkin. 

This raises a bigger point: the two potential routes Sorkin could have easily taken here. He could make a movie that completely distances itself from The Social Network (tonally, stylistically, etc.), or he could make a movie that just recreates (to a lesser degree) everything that was great about The Social Network. He chooses neither route. He ends up with something that isn’t distinct enough to stand on its own, but that also does not capitalize on any of the strengths of the original film. 

Comparison does not always make for the best criticism, but it’s impossible not to notice that this movie lacks the kineticism of the previous film. That energy came from the combined efforts of screenwriting, editing, score, direction, and performance. With the characters, everyone feels completely stagnant. The motivations that drive Frances to blow the whistle on Facebook are uninteresting and underdeveloped. However, it’s a step up from Jeff, whose motivation doesn’t seem to exist at all. The characters feel stale, and the movie feels sluggish as a result. The fast-paced “walk and talk” dialogue Sorkin is so famous for is nowhere to be found. Madison and White are barely keeping up with what they’re saying, and their performances are altogether lackluster. 

On the other hand, Jeremy Strong makes perfect sense on paper to play this new, stone-faced version of Mark Zuckerberg. His rigidity is meant to contrast with the energies around him, and it’s smart that he doesn’t try to imitate Jesse Eisenberg’s portrayal of Zuckerberg. However, when the dynamism that he’s supposed to clash with isn’t successfully crafted, the performance fundamentally cannot work. 

Sorkin tries to infuse humor here and there, but very few of the jokes land. Most just feel awkward. The humor is likely intended to diffuse tension, but the film never establishes that tension in the first place, so it ultimately doesn’t matter much. 

By the end of the two-hour movie, it’s still unclear what Sorkin’s takeaway is. There are a myriad of lessons to be learned: that nothing has really changed, that it’s a problem that the majority of people won’t be familiar with the names Jeff Horwitz and Frances Haugen before watching this film, or the constantly diminishing authority of journalism in the modern media landscape. But Sorkin can’t seem to pin down any of these. Characters talk in circles without ever getting anywhere. The biggest emphasis is placed on the role that Facebook played in facilitating the January 6th riots, an event that is prominently featured in the final act to no meaningful end. While it’s certainly a critical connection to make, it’s unfortunate that this is the only concrete idea that the film manages to effectively convey. 

Sorkin even seems aware that his narrative is poorly constructed, as he feels the need to use chapter titles and an onscreen timeline to denote what we are watching and when it is taking place. It’s another stark contrast to The Social Network, which can seamlessly move between different times and locations in nonlinear fashion without having to clarify with onscreen text. The Social Reckoning holds its viewers’ hands because it has to, and it’s one of the greatest signs that Sorkin just can’t seem to write the way he used to.

As a director, Sorkin has never had a real knack for visual storytelling, and he still doesn’t. Even with a stronger script, he has always struggled to match the energy of his scripts in his direction. His directorial debut, Molly’s Game (2017), is a great example: a solid script hindered by his direction. The Social Reckoning starts with a weak script and then lacks a director who can turn it into something more.

The film’s biggest problem, and the one that is truly the final nail in the coffin, is that it is so grounded in a specific cultural moment that it already feels outdated. The Social Network brilliantly manages to tread broad thematic ground that centers on a cultural turning point, allowing it to maintain relevance 16 years later. The Social Reckoning somehow struggles to feel relevant now, so it’s tough to imagine just how irrelevant it will feel years down the line.

The gist is this: If Aaron Sorkin was capable of directing The Social Network, he’d have directed The Social Network.

Review Courtesy of Claire May Lewis

Feature Image Credit to Sony Pictures