The trials of Jobs
Fassbender takes on Apple co-founder’s genius, pathology
Impossible not to recognize, the F sharp major chord is the noise a Macintosh computer makes when it lifts itself up by its bootstraps. It is the sound of creation. And echoes of its hum infuse the soundtrack of Steve Jobs, an astonishing creation in its own right.
Where to begin to give credit? Aaron Sorkin’s screenplay is truly Sorkinian (it would have to be; I know), a rattle-and-bang affair with lines that fly by so quickly, you’re left 10 minutes later wondering if they actually made any sense.
“Coach lands on the runway at exactly the same time as first class,” Jobs barks at one point to his head of marketing, who responds that she has no idea what he’s on about. Later she tells him she’s been feeding him erroneous data: “We’ve been managing expectations so that you don’t not.” Come again?
Then there’s director Danny Boyle (Slumdog Millionaire, 127 Hours), given the thankless task of somehow making all this talk-talk look as interesting as it sounds. And he does: one key scene takes place with a deluge outside a wall of windows, as though it were filmed beneath Niagara Falls. Another frames Jobs beneath translucent lighting panels, making him appear trapped in one of his Bondi Blue first-generation iMacs.
The film’s structure is the antithesis of a biopic. In three acts of 40 minutes each we watch Jobs prepare for the launch of three iconic products: the original Macintosh in 1984; the NeXT Computer, developed during Jobs’ time away from the company and unveiled in 1988; and the first iMac from 1998, the descendent of which, may sit on your desk today. Each time, the scene ends with Jobs taking the stage.
As such, we are given a window into just two hours of his life, with a few flashbacks thrown in. (The famed garage makes an appearance, albeit a brief one.) The full Sorkin biopic treatment would presumably take as long as Jobs’ existence. Viewers should keep in mind that this is an impressionistic snapshot, not a video recording.
It remains an instructive portrait, however. In the first scene — shot in 16mm; the film then moves to 35mm and then high-def digital — Jobs is visited by his ex-girlfriend, played with an endearing fragility by Katherine Waterston. She is seeking more than the paltry court-mandated support payments for her and their daughter, whom the multimillionaire was a long time in admitting was even his.
He alternately bullies her and ignores her pleas, but then caves just as quickly, apparently with as little thought as he had previously withstood her. His offer of more money and a house seems like kindness, though showing gratitude for it would be like thanking a hailstorm for putting ice in your drink.
The three acts feature a rotating cast of returning players. Kate Winslet is the above-mentioned marketing executive and the only person remotely capable of steering the ocean liner that was Jobs. Jeff Daniels is John Sculley, Apple’s CEO in the Macintosh days. Michael Stuhlbarg is Andy Hertzfeld, a put-upon computer scientist. And Seth Rogen goes full-beard to play Apple cofounder Steve Wozniak.
Each functions as a different facet of Jobs’ conscience, a psychological subroutine whose constant looping and crashing may have been the biggest flaw in the man’s operating system. Delivering warnings, offering unheeded advice, or in Woz’s case just asking for a bit of recognition for the team that created the Apple II, they get treated by Jobs as the pests they’re not.
If that structure seems too easy, Sorkin beats critics to the punch with a line of dialogue that undercuts his own artifice. Says Jobs: “It’s like five minutes before every launch, everyone goes to a bar and gets drunk and tells me what they really think.”
You know what? It IS like that. There’s another issue to be had with the film’s rosyglow final note, but that’s just Hollywood, a straight shot down the I-5 from Apple in Cupertino.
I haven’t yet named the actor who breathes life into this character. It is future Oscar nominee Michael Fassbender, who, for the record, looks almost nothing like the man he plays. In fact, first prize in the Steve Jobs look-alike contest goes to Ashton Kutcher in the widely panned 2013 movie Jobs. Second prize goes to Steve Jobs.
Fassbender’s performance transcends appearance to embody the code of Jobs, if you will. From his insistence that the exit lights be turned off in an auditorium — against the fire code, but leading to a much more dramatic reveal — to his obsession over making the NeXT a perfect cube, never mind what’s inside, to the bizarre practice of washing his feet in the toilet, here is an embodiment that encapsulates genius, moving beyond eccentricity and into something approaching pathology.
Jobs would give you the shirt off his back — though not, as the film demonstrates, in a good way. We quickly see how someone can be both attractive and repulsive in the same breath. And if we don’t, he helpfully spells it out, messianically: “God sent his only son on a suicide mission, but we like him anyway because he made trees.”
Think of that the next time you pull out your iPhone, and give thanks. Or you can treat it as if it just fell from the sky. Sometimes it amounts to the same thing.