Mountainhead

101

Ever since the orange monster came into our life, it’s a little difficult to take anything as satire. The world is such a jokey mess, everything kind of pales in comparison. So how do we look at this movie about douchey titans of industry and take it as satire? As something that would have felt absurd and over-the-top fifteen years ago, but now feels kind of subdued and silly when mirrored by the true absurdity of the craven, out-in-the-public corruption and rich-guy assholery we see every day on the news? Man babies. Hypocrites. Men and women who are purposely horrible for clout. People who spout nonsense they don’t even believe because it’ll get them followers and sponsorship dollars. Will perpetuate hatred and the tearing of the social fabric just because it’s fun to own whomever they conceive or are told is the enemy. Encouraging their people to vote against their own health and self-interest. There have always been captains of industry. There have always been dickheads. This film is about both. But cartoonish.

I have to say, I saw this thing maybe a month or two ago and it’s already gone out of my head. I remember flashes of scenes — mostly the heightened rituals and murder attempts — but it is otherwise a dumb distraction that felt like a rushed-to-screen whim of Succession’s Jesse Armstrong to capitalize on Elon Musk’s public flame out. It had the claustrophobic nature of a COVID production, or, more generously, of a stage play. You can almost see Armstrong’s writing on the page and the thoughts in his head that the critic’s will love his up-to-the-minute take on rich tech bros. Thing is, I don’t love these types of movies. These temporary movies. Takes based on of-the-moment vagaries about technology and wealth. Save it for an episode of Black Mirror. But, yeah, three rich guys come to a mountain retreat owned by a fourth not-as-rich guy for a weekend of debauchery and self-congratulatory wankery. It’s an annual event that feels a bit forced. Why are Steve Carell, Jason Schwartzman, Cory Michael Smith and Ramy Youssef friends? Aside from the fact they’re rich? Because I think we’re supposed to believe that these four guys — despite the almost 30-year age gap between Youssef and Carell — are buddies who have been doing this weirdo, rich-guy ritual for years.

The conceit is ultimately undone by the casting. I really like Steve Carell. The Office is the best sitcom ever made. But he is miscast here. His energy, his age in comparison with the others. There’s just something missing in his person and his performance. Jason Schwartzman always plays hectic and desperate well, but he too just feels too Gen X for this situation. Granted, I’m much less familiar with Smith and Youssef, who feel like way better fits in this scenario. Granted, Youssef — who’s performance has interested me in seeking out his other stuff — seems entirely too empathetic and likable compared to the others. Not a guy who would run up to the peak of a ski slope to write his net worth on his chest in lipstick in some sort of thing that probably sounded way better in the script than it was on the screen. It’s silly and incongruent with whatever this was supposed to be. Can you imagine Paul Allen or Bill Gates — after whom I assume Carell’s character is supposed to be modeled — doing something stupid like that? No you can’t. Or even if he’s more Peter Thiel than Gates, Thiel’s kookiness probably doesn’t translate to this level of sophomoric nonsense. I don’t buy it and I don’t buy him. It’s farce, I get it. But it doesn’t mean I need to like it.

Jesse Armstrong is British. This is relevant. Because there is something inherently British about the stuff he does, including Mountainhead. The Brits love a farce. Love an over-the-top representation. And especially focus on class. Sure, class is a thing in the US, but it’s a much less engrained part of our society. So, when you pair farcical satire with a story about class, it’s a little clunky in the context of America. These four guys on a mountain top in a soulless mansion planning the conquest of the masses. Or something. But really it’s just one dude running a Facebook-like social media app that has an incredibly realistic AI engine that people are using to spread fake news. The other dude has some sort of security software that can counteract said AI to differentiate the real from fake and maybe, possibly save the world from collapse. Carell is the old-school money guy and Schwartzman is just kind of a doofus they feel sorry for who can’t even get to a billion net worth. They are friends. But also competitors. Which, again, is kind of yada’ed. But they sit up in their castle and watch the news as the world spirals because of AI videos perpetuated by Cory Michael Smith’s social network and ponder what it means to either let it fall into disarray or work to fix it. Which leads to a conclusion that they need to murder Youssef. Which is incredibly stupid, but somewhat funny. And I guess just goes to the whole dumb-rich-guy ethos that they could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue and get away with it merely because they’re rich. I get it. Very subtle.

I don’t know, the whole endeavor feels like it’s a meta wank on the dangers of a tech oligarchy put out by the tech oligarchy. Because there’s no other POV in the film other than theirs. And if you think this is somehow letting us into their world, it is not. Or if you think that this in any way makes a dent in their armor or lessens their powers, it does not. In fact, the megalomania of these dudes assumes that they’ll see this a love letter and not the exposé Armstrong intended. It serves at the behest of them, not to the detriment.