When it was announced in 2009 that a film was being made about the founding of Facebook, the cultural reaction was a collective eye-roll. It sounded like a desperate attempt to capitalize on a fleeting trend. Yet, when The Social Network premiered, audiences didn’t get a puff piece about a website; you could say they got Citizen Kane with hoodies.
The alchemy of the film relies heavily on David Fincher’s clinical direction and Trent Reznor’s haunting score, but the engine that drives it is Aaron Sorkin’s Academy Award-winning screenplay. It’s a script that treats the creation of a digital platform with the gravity of a Shakespearean tragedy.
Here is an analysis of the structural and lyrical brilliance of The Social Network.
1. The Opening Scene: A Verbal Ballistics Test
Most films spend the first ten minutes slowly establishing the world. Sorkin establishes everything—character, conflict, theme, and tone—in the first five minutes, entirely through dialogue.
The opening scene in the campus bar between Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) and Erica Albright (Rooney Mara) is a masterclass in exposition disguised as combat.
Polyphonic Dialogue: Mark and Erica are rarely having the same conversation. Mark is obsessing over final clubs and SAT scores; Erica is trying to have a date. This disconnect establishes Mark’s fatal flaw immediately: he seeks connection (status) but lacks the hardware for human intimacy.
The Inciting Incident: Sorkin subverts the trope. The inciting incident isn’t Mark having a “eureka” moment about code; it is a breakup. The entire multi-billion dollar empire is framed not as a business venture, but as a reaction to emotional rejection. As Erica says:
“You are going to go through life thinking that girls don’t like you because you’re a nerd… but I want to let you know, from the bottom of my heart, that won’t be true. It’ll be because you’re an asshole.”
2. Structure: The Rashomon Effect
Biopics usually suffer from the “and then this happened” syndrome. Sorkin solved the problem of adapting a book (The Accidental Billionaires) with conflicting sources by embracing the conflict.
He utilizes a framing device of two separate depositions taking place years after the events: one lawsuit with Eduardo Saverin (the co-founder) and one with the Winklevoss twins.
Subjective Truth: By cutting between the “past” (the creation of Facebook) and the “present” (the lawsuits), Sorkin acknowledges that there is no single objective truth. We see events as Mark remembers them, then as Eduardo remembers them.
Pacing: This structure turns a story about typing code into a legal thriller. The dry business meetings are intercut with the visceral emotions of the legal fallout, keeping the stakes dangerously high.
3. Character Archetypes: A Classical Tragedy
Sorkin is known for writing hyper-intelligent, idealistic characters (think The West Wing). In The Social Network, he pivots to darker archetypes. The script functions as a classical tragedy with a modern coat of paint.
Mark Zuckerberg: The Tragic King
Mark is written not as a villain, but as a tragic figure fueled by insecurity. He is the smartest person in every room, yet he is desperate for the validation of the “cool kids” (the Final Clubs). His tragedy is ironic: he invents the world’s greatest tool for connection, yet ends the film entirely alone.
Eduardo Saverin: The Betrayed Brother
If Mark is the brain, Eduardo is the heart. Sorkin structures the emotional core of the film around this friendship. The “Ambush” scene, where Eduardo realizes his shares have been diluted to 0.03%, is the emotional climax. Sorkin strips away the tech jargon and leaves only the raw pain of betrayal.
Eduardo: “I was your only friend. You had one friend.”
Sean Parker: The Mephistopheles
Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake) enters the script as the devil figure. He seduces Mark not with money, but with the one thing Mark actually wants: Cool. He represents the “New World” of Silicon Valley excess, effectively severing the bond between Mark and Eduardo.
4. Theme: Old Money vs. New Money
Sorkin loves to write about class systems. The conflict with the Winklevoss twins is not just about intellectual property; it is a clash of civilizations.
The Winklevoss Twins: They represent the old guard—Harvard tradition, rowing crews, gentlemanly conduct, and inherited power.
Mark Zuckerberg: He represents the disruption. He doesn’t care about the rules of the aristocracy.
When the twins threaten to sue, Mark’s dismissal of them is Sorkin’s commentary on the shift of global power from physical hierarchy to digital dominance. Mark knows that in the new world, owning the code is more powerful than owning the club.
5. The Final Image
The script concludes with one of the most poignant endings in modern cinema. The lawsuits are settled. The friends are gone. Mark sits alone in a conference room.
He pulls up Erica Albright’s Facebook profile. He sends a friend request. And then, he hits refresh. And refresh. And refresh.
Sorkin leaves us with the ultimate paradox of the digital age: We are more connected than ever, yet we have never been more isolated. The script doesn’t judge Mark; it pities him. It suggests that you can rewrite the social codes of the entire world, but you cannot rewrite the past.