& she fights with the dialogue when she can’t quite capture it. I rewind 5, 10, 30 seconds & she says, “What?” & “Can you go back?” & “Whatever.” She clenches the remote. I mouth Jesse Eisenberg’s lines for him. She calls Eduardo Saverin “Ecuador.” The screen buffers momentarily. She rolls her eyes & I look directly into the glow of the lamp next to the television.
 

 
The Social Network (2010) is, at its core, about men. It fails the Bechdel test. The women present are either terrible or invisible. The founders of Facebook, whoever you credit them to be, were arrogant, entitled, misogynistic college students. The men are all children: Eduardo, Mark’s best friend(?) and co-founder; Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss, twins whose idea Mark may or may not have taken inspiration from; and, of course, Mark, our beloved and thoroughly hated anti-hero.

I like the snappy dialogue more than anything else; I am only a few good screenplays away from worshipping at the altar of Aaron Sorkin. There is no scene in cinema I love more than the opening shot, where Mark Zuckerberg’s fictional girlfriend breaks up with him after a conversation I could mistake for a brief war. My mother hates it. “It’s meant to be confusing,” I tell her. “It’s supposed to be fast. You’re not supposed to understand everything.” She frowns anyway.

My mother thinks that The Social Network is about truth. Who really founded Facebook. Who’s really right in the dual lawsuits Mark faces in fast-forward sequences throughout the film. Who really has power. Who’s really telling the story.
 

 
MOTHER: You know, the first time I watched this, I think my English was not as good.

DAUGHTER: You’ve watched this already? [BEAT]. If you’ve already seen it, we can watch something else, if you want.

MOTHER doesn’t answer. On screen, JESSE EISENBERG AS MARK ZUCKERBURG rushes towards his computer with his head bowed, struck by inspiration. DAUGHTER focuses instead on ANDREW GARFIELD AS EDUARDO SAVERIN, who’s hovering over the keyboard.

[TWO BEATS]. MOTHER and DAUGHTER watch the Facebook site appear on the Internet for the first time.

CUT TO: 2003. Mark Zuckerberg launches Facebook. DAUGHTER is born red-faced and chubby- cheeked. MOTHER sings in Mandarin to her, short tunes about birds and tomatoes, and DAUGHTER grows up knowing the words without knowing why.

CUT TO: 2010. DAUGHTER is gap-toothed and happy and then asleep and still happy. MOTHER curls her body on a soft brown couch she will replace in six years and watches ANDREW GARFIELD AS EDUARDO SAVERIN make out with a Chinese-American actress on the television in the living room. MOTHER watches this woman who looks a little like one of her cousins back in Shanghai breathe hungrily in the green light of a seedy bathroom and thanks God that DAUGHTER is upstairs and in bed. MOTHER confuses one lawsuit scene with another and forgets what this movie is about.

CUT TO: 2021. DAUGHTER and MOTHER are scared of the future but only MOTHER says it. DAUGHTER and MOTHER are watching a movie.
 

 
Storytelling is about power. When the men of The Social Network collide, we watch the truth dissipate. Critics sometimes point out the inaccuracies of the movie: Mark Zuckerburg was already dating his future wife as a college student! Eduardo Saverin is not that sympathetic of a person in real life! It was filmed on Johns Hopkins’ campus, not Harvard’s! But these facts always pale when I think about Facebook itself, this monster of a thing. The gargantuan concept-turned-corporation that tore a handful of men apart and brought them to each others’ throats in an effort to bring people together. At the end of the film, Mark Zuckerburg is alone, silent in front of a screen, and I am with my mother, both of us thinking about men, how powerful they turn when presented with the absence of truth and a little bit of ambiguity. I wonder if my mother thinks in Mandarin or in English. If the truth changes when it’s translated.
 

 
CUT TO: 2003. MOTHER gives birth to a writer. DAUGHTER cries in two different languages in dim bedrooms.

CUT TO: 2021. DAUGHTER translates. DAUGHTER mixes up her words. DAUGHTER says MOTHER doesn’t need to know every line to get the plot right. DAUGHTER tells the wrong story.
 

 
My mother and I don’t have a real script in Mandarin because I keep forgetting phrases and she keeps adding them. We communicate in half- sentences, half-ideas, half-truths. A list of what I’ve confused, muddled, or otherwise corrupted with an Americanized tongue: the names of minor characters & the difference between a lawsuit and a deposition in English & the difference between a lawsuit and a deposition in Mandarin & the past perfect tense & timelines & how to say “corporation” in Manadarin & how to say “bank” in Mandarin & the difference between a debit and a credit card & the name of this movie in Mandarin & how to say “Facebook” in Mandarin (it’s 脸书, a literal translation) & the difference between direct translation and explaining context (I keep doing the former when I should be doing the latter) & when to say “Mandarin” and when to say “Chinese” (I never know, really) & what this story is about. Who is telling the story correctly.
 

 
MOTHER: 你这篇电影挑得不错.¹

DAUGHTER: I agree, it’s a pretty good movie.

MOTHER opens her mouth as if to speak and then closes it. DAUGHTER does the same.

MOTHER and DAUGHTER watch the credits roll.

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