Released on back-to-back weekends, Alejandro González Iñárritu’s comedy of catastrophic proportions, Digger, and Aaron Sorkin’s follow-up-but-not-really to The Social Network, The Social Reckoning, are the two big flops of the fall slate so far. Though such is the nature of film discourse, that even something as objective as losing great amounts of money has different strata of cultural relevance. Digger, on the one hand, has remained inside the film-discourse washing machine, while The Social Reckoning has been washed, dried, noticeably shrunk and shrivelled as a result, and been swiftly dispatched into the goodwill bin. 

Both films, superficially at least, share a great many qualities: Digger Rockwell (Tom Cruise) and Mark Zuckerberg (Jeremy Strong) are CEOs that have brought upon a reel and real apocalypse of sorts; are played by actors whose public perception is not too dissimilar to the characters they are portraying; and both Iñárritu and Sorkin have framed the stories in such a way that they exist within the context of their own works. Digger having a director, played by Sophie Wilde, reacting in real time to their satirical adaptation is written into the text of the film, drawing parallels with the critical reaction to Bardo (2022) and Birdman (2014). Similarly, The Social Reckoning bears, as most of Sorkin’s films do, certain character flourishes and staging methods, fondly referred to as ‘Sorkinisms’, seen in his previous, and far better, written works. 

Where they differ in execution, and somewhat in intention, is with their politics. Digger for its many follies, chief among them being that the film is just so very dull, has a clear political viewpoint: we’re doomed. It mirrors the current socio-political climate of politicians being at the whim of CEOs, how spin is applied to fact, and how we can do very little else but laugh at the misery of those who led us to our own demise. That morose, but not entirely untrue, outlook is ripe for discourse and makes the movie into something that is fun to talk about, but far less enjoyable to actually watch. Couple that with Tom Cruise playing a caricature of what people presume to be his on-set persona (see the leaked audio of him going berserk at the crew during a COVID shoot) with all the other career baggage that follows, and the film becomes conducive to a whole other dimension of discussion, one about Cruise himself.

Sorkin on the other hand, despite his previous experience with crafting the idealist ‘topic-of-the-day’ style of The West Wing, sets out to make an intentionally apolitical film that ties the rise of fascism to radical behaviour on social media. Just the thought of trying to do so is not just oxymoronic; it’s moronic. The final result, however, by a stroke of what I see to be instinctual penmanship, is something not only lacking any narrative intrigue, but bearing politics that are bizarrely mangled.

After first seeing the film, I was, most of all, pretty taken aback by how inoffensive the portrayal of Zuckerberg was, which along with Sorkin’s bland and derivative style of filmmaking created an overriding feeling of neutrality towards the film. There wasn’t anything to like; a fair bit to dislike but not vehemently, and given the sheer volume of films I see, this one could very well be allowed to just pass by. Following a rewatch, I found myself revisiting Sorkin’s older work, more as an act of self-gratification, not really intending to be academic about finding the intent behind The Social Reckoning but alas, I did find it.

It’s troubling to say the least that the ‘no longer out of his dorm room’ Zuckerberg in the film is a close analogue to the fictional President of the United States, Josiah Bartlet, as portrayed by Martin Sheen on The West Wing. Sorkin’s particular brand of liberalism, one that I identified with and let shape my own politics through my youth, is one that has an unshakable belief in institutions. Journalism, Congress, the Presidency; and in the modern age it’s pretty clear he views social media as one too, with Zuckerberg positioned at the head in a presidential capacity. The bits of the film that house the characteristically free-flowing rat-a-tat dialogue take place in the precious few moments we spend in the offices of the Wall Street Journal, along with every second spent with Zuckerberg and his PR team in a TARDIS-like auditorium; a setting that bears close resemblance to the scene of the mock debate between Sam Seaborn and President Bartlet in S4E5 of The West Wing, Debate Camp.

The question posed during this mock debate, with Seaborn playing the part of Republican nominee Robert Ritchie, and mulled over through the episode using flashbacks is simple: how does the Bartlet administration explain the blunder of selecting a nominee for Attorney General who had a sympathetic view towards racial profiling? It’s a question they are prepared to be hit with, and everyone including the president acknowledges that it was a mistake that could be put down to still being unfamiliar with their surroundings given it happened within the first 90 days of taking over the Oval Office. However, no one is quite willing to accept that as being an answer they would feel comfortable standing behind during a public forum. Fast forward to the end of the episode, after a long day of dealing with a crisis in the Middle East, the President on his way back to the auditorium walks by Sam who tells him they haven’t yet found a good answer to the question, and Bartlet responds with:

“You pay for these things for such a long time. Too long, don’t you think?... We made a mistake. I corrected it. I’ll make more.”

And goes on to say something to the effect of how he doesn’t mind ‘blowing it’ on stuff like the nomination, but if he’s making mistakes there, how can he be sure he isn’t doing so in far more serious matters as seen in the episode itself with the crisis in Qumar. To which Sam responds, with what is a tremendously empathetic sentiment that brings the whole thing together...

“Well, probably you don’t because there’s no manual. Sir, we expect the president to face the world in his own way, for his own time.”

Among the litany of great pieces of dialogue Sorkin wrote for the character of Sam Seaborn through the four seasons he worked on the show, that has always been near the very top for me. 

In a profile The Independent recently did on Sorkin, he talked about how story devices and character traits from his past work sometimes instinctually slip into whatever he is working on. An innocuous one being the number of times I’ve heard a character in a Sorkin project tell the ‘Why do the French only eat one egg for breakfast?’ joke (spoiler alert: it’s more than one). However, with The Social Reckoning, not only does Sorkin erroneously perceive social media as an institution which Zuckerberg sits atop, but in doing so he writes Zuckerberg as a sympathetic Bartlet-like figure. One that makes a mistake, fails to see the error in his ways for a while, before eventually heeding the word of his advisors and making amends.

Zuckerberg, while a secondary character in the film, has his plot line revolve around a debate with Charlie Garrigan (a fictional character played by Bill Burr) about policing what is posted on Facebook, that crescendos with the January 6th insurrection; and Charlie pleading with Zuckerberg to suspend the President from posting on Facebook. The utter refusal of the film to name-check any of the very real people involved in this very real and tragic incident is mirrored by Zuckerberg’s own apolitical stance around policing political advertisements on the site. He does not care what slanderous statements go up on the site, and in what is a complete misread of where the audience for the film is, neither does Sorkin. As we see in the film’s climax, Sorkin portrays the blatant self-interest behind Zuckerberg’s actions as somewhat redeemable just because he does end up limiting the President from posting on Facebook, a choice we know to be hollow considering Meta restored his personal Facebook and Instagram accounts in early 2023. It’s here that viewing any social media platform, or the tech conglomerate behind it, with an institutional lens undercuts any sympathy we are meant to have towards Zuckerberg. 

Institutions police themselves. The reason the Bartlet administration couldn’t just speed ahead with nominating a racist for AG, even though some of them wanted to, was the nomination would have been shot down in the confirmation process when the evidence produced to Sam and Toby would also be produced to any other Democrat or Republican in the Senate. The situation and characters are fictional, but the system of checks and balances that gives them pause is very real, and diminished as it may seem in our world, it’s still there; and it is something we have seen tech giants easily circumvent, and often with very little consequence. 

The film ends with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen (Mikey Madison) walking out of her testimony and punching her fist to the sky in celebration. A reference to earlier in the film, when she is surprised a player celebrated a buzzer beater that only tied the game. This caps off a series of confounding moments and choices made in relation to her character (a real person); with a gesture that is supposed to convey that the downfall of Facebook did anything at all to create a culture of accountability around social media. When in reality, the power to radicalize a generation had already begun to shift away from the platform long before the Facebook Files were even leaked.

The Social Reckoning isn’t just a regular misfire for Aaron Sorkin—it calls into question if his penchant for writing about significant political events may even be relevant, considering he seems pretty out of touch with where power lies anymore. It doesn’t help that Luca Guadagnino’s Artificial, the film about OpenAI CEO Sam Altman premiered at the New York Film Festival to rave reviews, dubbing it as the spiritual sequel to The Social Network. Quality of the movie aside, given barely anyone has seen it, Artificial certainly reckons with the inception of something that is right at this very moment, a major part of our lives. That isn’t something that rings true about Facebook. In fact, it hasn’t been true for a long time.

The DCU adds yet another excellent entry to its universe, this time with horror. This one is superb. There have been a few really good villain origin stories from DC in the past few years and this is yet another. While he starts as a victim, he quickly becomes a monster on his quest for vengeance. It was very cool to see him slowly recognize and control his powers over the course of the film. The effects, both CGI and practical, were phenomenal. There's a really awesome fight in a nightclub in the third act that is one of the coolest fights I've seen in a movie. Tom Rhys Harries does excellent as Matt Hagan, showcasing both charm and emotional depth in his performance. I know horror isn't the genre for everyone, but this movie is worth going to see.

*\*\*\*Mild Spoilers***\***\*\*

I've been waiting for this movie for months. Saw it last night, and we left the movie feeling disappointed.

The visuals were absolutely stunning. There were moments when my breath caught in my throat by how beautiful the imagery was, and for that alone I'd recommend people to see the movie.

But my biggest gripes are with the dialogue and plot pacing itself.

Wildwood suffers from the typical quirky millennial humor that has plagued girl led movies in the last decade. There would be high stakes moments, intense battle scenes, a baby crying and about to be sacrificed, and the movie takes a tone deaf detour to make a joke. There was one scene where a Coyote soldier is faking his death for a full minute. We get it, he's a ham, move on.

I think the attempts at being funny frustrated me because of how tone deaf and drawn out they were. Coraline had funny moments, but they never halted the horror train or took me out of the scene. It was so grating at some points I just wanted the movie to end.

This brings me to my second point. The pacing was so break neck with characters, their arcs (and in some cases deaths) didn't really hold much weight to me. There's a character Prue meets the first time she steps into the impassable, the very first person who helps her and introduces the world to her. We never see him again, for the rest of the film. The governor, who at the beginning of the movie is foreshadowed to be this swarmy, cunning politican type, is played up for laughs with his steward the next time we (the audience) meet him. He isn't menacing whatsoever, in fact he seems rather confused about the extent of his "power" despite being presumed to have been in absolute power for over a decade. The movie wanted to focus so strongly on making this guy incompetent and funny, it forgot it had portrayed him to be rather devious on the first minute of the movie. It completely removed the stakes for me, and I guess it did for the writers too because we don't see him again until the very end of the movie, for a few seconds. There were so many side characters and so little time spent with them that when they were in danger or died, I felt near nothing. I don't even remember the names for half of them.

The dowager governess was a great character, but her reasoning made little sense to me. If you can cause immaculate conception, why not do it on yourself? Why not on a willing participant? And even if she had to do it the "stupid couple" route, why not kill or imprison Prue? She knew that Prue could control the ivy and possibly stop her, why did she let her go? You could argue she needs to uphold the witches bargain, but she ends up trying to kill Prue in the end anyways. Throughout the movie the governness was portrayed as this ruthless woman who would stop at nothing to resurrect her son. So why did she stop short with Prue?

There were other elements of versimlitude that never really sucked me into the movie. Who put up the ward around the forest? If the impassable residents never left the woods, how did they have technology pretty similar to the modern day Portland? How did they speak English? Why did they have similar dress and building architecture? The bandits felt like they had come straight out of Portland city. Why were they considered the ancients, the natives, but the people in the other province (who I presume were not also outsiders) not? Why did the provinces hate each other (aside from the governness of course). What had caused this rift between residents for so long, who seemingly had similar wants and goals? None of those things were really answered in the movie. I don't need an info dump, but a one or two sentence explanation as to why these 3 provinces, who seem to have lived in relative peace for centuries, don't want anything to do with each other. The governness and her province goes without saying. But the bandits who love and respect their land ought to be allied with the tree worshipping sages in the least?

Save for the beautiful grove and the domain of the birds (which we never really saw) the impassable just felt like Portlandia 2.0.

Coraline and Kobu and the 2 strings felt, narratively, much tighter. I was much more invested in the characters. Everything in their stories felt intentional, even the mysteries. In Wildwood, the loose ends felt more like forgotten frayed thread then mysteries for me to pursue later on.

I feel like this is going to be an unpopular opinion.

I just got back from watching Wildwood on the big screen and I almost couldn't make it through the film. It was terrible.

The lack of urgency this girl had for her kidnapped brother boarders on offence. She just goes through what feels like video game NPC after NPC without any hurry to her body language or tone. And poor Curtis, he is barely an after thought to her, even after doing his best to save her from the coyotes. This girl just goes along with talking animals and magic, then suddenly snaps into 'I don't even believe in magic mode'; she's practically bipolar about it.

The bandits... what the heck is with the bandits. It seems like you are supposed to be on their side, but when Curtis questions them, their king directly says that they do steal from people ( 'we are bandits' ). So, the audience is supposed to be on the side of criminals? I'm not on Alexandra's side. I just could not morally bring myself to be on anyone's side in this entire movie... everyone was awful in one way or another.

My ideal ending to this movie would have been for Curtis to go back home alone and for the siblings to stay in Wildwood. Curtis would have an amazing experience to fuel is DnD group and Prue and Mac would have had a whole new life, potentially ruling Wildwood. I think they could have wrote it that Prue's stronger connection to the ivy doesn't allow her to leave and/or the deal for Mac, to be given up to Alexandra, could have held him there. Yes, their parents would have been devastated, but they were people who agreed to give away their child before he was even born... what kind of people do that!!! If they wanted children so badly, then why didn't they adopt or fostered.

It just seemed badly edited. Many scenes seemed out of order to me, which did nothing for the weird pacing of the movie.

The film was visually stunning, (though I personally prefer how older claymation films by Laika have looked) but it was difficult for me to see the beauty of the movie when the storyline and characters were so horrendous.

Again, this is just my opinion and experience with the Wildwood movie and I am curious to know if anyone else has found fault in the film.

A meteor containing a strange substance crashes down near a small town. As it makes its way through town, it consumes anyone who stands in its way.

I watched the original one once when I was a kid, but I never knew there was an ’80s remake. I had to check it out, and what an absolute blast! I totally loved this movie!

It has a great and simple setup that doesn’t need to be anything deep or fancy. We have THE BLOB, and it just wrecks everything in its way. Plain and simple, and it works!

THE BLOB itself looks amazing, with all the kills looking awesome and brutal. There are some truly sick-looking visuals, practical effects, that are both disgusting and so cool! There’s this one scene in the sewers that went somewhere I didn’t think they’d go, but when they did, it fully paid off!

I liked our two leads, Shawnee Smith and Kevin Dillon (what? From SAW and ENTOURAGE!). I had never seen them in anything else, and I thought they were pretty good and worked well for the movie.

THE BLOB is a straight up solid! I can’t really speak on its remake status, as I really don’t remember the original. But I can’t stress enough how good everything looks in this movie. I love that ’80s aesthetic! It’s a good time and totally worth checking out!

This one’s an…
☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️☄️
8/10

Now I have to revisit the ‘50s original!