Aaron Sorkin Still Believes in American Institutions, Even If No One Else Does

I write idealistically and romantically, but before a movie can be anything else, it has to be good and work as a movie.

Sorkin writes heroes without capes to make greatness feel achievable.

This is another movie about Facebook written by the same writer, not a sequel, similar to how Henry Hill appears in Casino. I didn't want to be the writer of Jaws 2 and couldn't find the story until learning about Frances Haugen.

The Social Network was about an antisocial guy inventing a social structure he couldn't be shut out of, not necessarily skepticism of the technology. Social Reckoning is about what Facebook has become and its role in the rise of extremism and divisiveness.

When writing nonfiction, real people become fictional characters I create, though I would never defame someone. An antihero has good intentions and thinks they're doing good, unlike a villain who just wants to rule. The Mark in The Social Reckoning is an antihero, not a villain, and I write him making his case to God.

Jeremy Strong was constantly defending Mark to me and was completely immersed in the role. I had no idea Jeremy reached out to Zuckerberg via email until I read it yesterday.

Jesse Eisenberg turned down the role because he doesn't like being conflated with Zuckerberg and dislikes kids asking for signatures. Replacing Jesse with Jeremy was like replacing Joe DiMaggio with Mickey Mantle.

It was not hard to get the movie made because of Tom Rothman at Sony. Sony hired an outside law firm to ensure every fact presented is a fact, which is ironic given Facebook's unwillingness to fact-check.

The film is a continuation of my argument with Zuckerberg about Facebook not fact-checking political ads. Mark Zuckerberg knows the difference between an unpopular opinion and a lie, and the First Amendment doesn't protect lies.

Frances Haugen wanted to help Facebook and believed in its mission, but the civic integrity team was dissolved.

Haugen says we are worse off today, Congress hasn't regulated online safety, and reporter Jeff Horowitz was downsized.

The movie ends on an optimistic note because David threw a rock at Goliath and connected.

My grandparents fled Russia, and my father used the GI Bill, showing what government assistance can do. My parents felt pride during Watergate that the most powerful person gave up power without tanks in the street. I believe in this country and its institutions, which are user-sensitive depending on who's in charge.

I'm very physical when writing, and I once broke my nose by lunging into a mirror while acting out a scene.

I'm optimistic about AI because I don't think it's going to work; audiences will still want human-created movies.

If AI could write an opening scene, I'd never try to have an idea again, which is the danger.

I lost a decade to drugs and thought I needed coke to write A Few Good Men. Carrie Fisher told me I would write better sober, so I went to rehab. My big fear was getting frustrated trying to have an idea and relapsing because I knew the secret.

I don't write about my darkness because I'm worried people won't like the character, and I want them to like me. My writing style might not suit dark material, and I don't have many ideas to begin with.

The settlement is great news and a step in the right direction, though it only addresses addiction, not divisiveness. I didn't add a postscript about the settlement because I want the movie to be timeless, not feel like it was made yesterday.

I passed on past revivals because it was my starter play, but now I want to polish it and treat it as new. The story is suddenly relevant again due to PSAs about service members not being obligated to follow illegal orders.

My reverence for institutions may be misguided, but the alternative is unclear; all we have are elections.

People are angry at institutions and feel the system is rigged, so Sorkin's reverence might be misguided.