David Bridges
Transitioning from the critically acclaimed series “Succession” presents a daunting challenge, making the HBO film “Mountainhead” serve more as a refreshing palate-cleanser than a direct follow-up. Crafted by the brilliant mind of “Succession” creator Jesse Armstrong, “Mountainhead” explores a similar realm of the ultra-wealthy and employs a rapid-fire, comic rhythm that is rich in wit and profanity, yet it intentionally scales back its ambition. Armstrong penned this script in just a few weeks, confining much of the action to the alpine retreat that bears its name. Sending a clear signal to viewers, “Mountainhead” embraces the less prestigious format of a made-for-TV movie, strategically airing on the final day of this year’s Emmy eligibility window—akin to a student submitting their homework just before the deadline.
For viewers who grasp this message and adjust their expectations, “Mountainhead” reveals a wealth of insights. While its runtime of 109 minutes may serve as Armstrong’s means of shedding the last remnants of “Succession,” the film deftly hones in on its own themes. It examines the perilous impact of technology and the man-children who wield it, presenting a narrative where the Roys of “Succession” are replaced by a group of tech moguls reminiscent of Lukas Matsson. In this film, Alexander Skarsgård’s character, a self-made entrepreneur, stands in stark contrast to the adult Roy siblings, whose wealth is largely inherited and unearned. Here, the focus shifts to the work itself, even when the consequences of that work remain distant and overlooked by the characters involved.
“Mountainhead” introduces viewers to an elite billionaire fraternity known as the Brewsters, who gather in Utah for their semi-regular poker night. Just before this gathering, Venis (Cory Michael Smith, celebrated for his roles in “Saturday Night Live” and “May December”), the CEO of the social media platform Traam, unveils a controversial new feature that enables deepfakes, igniting a global controversy over misinformation. Venis jokingly suggests he should respond by posting “fuuck,” emphasizing his indifference while his sycophantic entourage laughs along, despite the fact that this new capability is fueling sectarian violence and blurring the line between reality and falsehood for users worldwide.
Among the Brewsters is Jeff (Ramy Youssef), the inventor behind an AI technology he claims is “the cure for information cancer,” a stark contrast to Traam’s “4chan on fucking acid.” (The specifics here remain vague, yet the symbolism carries weight.) Although Jeff is the Brewster burdened with a sense of conscience, he is still more concerned with his image and the critiques of his “founder power” on a high-profile podcast than with Venis’ ethical breaches. Closer to home, Jeff’s immense wealth fails to secure the loyalty of his girlfriend Hester (Hadley Robinson), who has left for a gathering in Mexico that hints at promiscuity. She reassures him, “Just because people have sex at a party doesn’t mean it’s a sex party.” The group is rounded out by financier Randall (Steve Carell), who struggles with the denial of his terminal cancer diagnosis, and host Hugo (Jason Schwartzman), pejoratively dubbed Souper—reflecting his relatively modest fortune, which makes him “the poorest billionaire in the game.”
The resonances with previous narratives may already be apparent in the preceding paragraphs. Souper’s self-pity mirrors Tom Wambsgans’ lament about being the “poorest rich person in America” and “the world’s tallest dwarf.” Likewise, Jeff’s envy of Hester echoes Connor Roy’s attempts to secure the loyalty of his escort-turned-wife Willa with financial means. Although the inevitable comparisons to “Succession” are understandable so soon after its finale, “Mountainhead” proves itself worthy of such scrutiny and parallels.
However, “Mountainhead” not only reflects on its predecessor but also engages with contemporary issues. I confess to having viewed the film shortly after finishing “Careless People,” a tell-all by former Facebook executive Sarah Wynn-Williams concerning the internal dynamics of the company during the 2010s. Venis’ blatant disregard for the chaos he instigates, along with his denial of responsibility, aligns seamlessly with how Mark Zuckerberg, Sheryl Sandberg, and their colleagues reacted to critical moments such as the 2016 election and the Rohingya genocide in Myanmar. Furthermore, Randall’s fixation on becoming “post-human” to achieve immortality in cyberspace echoes the same denial of mortality that leads figures like Peter Thiel and Bryan Johnson to pursue extreme and often macabre methods of extending their lives. If wealth can buy so much, why not eternity?
In essence, I find Armstrong’s critique of the fractured psychology of the wealthy, especially those whose fortunes stem from “disruption” and “innovation,” to be compelling. However, I am less convinced by the notion that these individuals are capable of forming genuine friendships, let alone that they would foster camaraderie among themselves. Observing these men partake in homosocial rituals, such as etching their net worths onto their bare chests, is amusing, yet their claims of mutual concern feel unconvincing. Armstrong needed a rationale for uniting these characters in one space, but authentic affection is not a believable motivator among them.
As a film, “Mountainhead” lacks the luxury of time to develop the psychological intricacies or interpersonal dynamics that made the Roy family unforgettable. This constraint partly explains the more established cast, who bring gravitas instead of gradually evolving their characters into iconic figures. Instead, “Mountainhead” fully embraces farce, driving Venis’ callousness, Jeff’s moral objections, Hugo’s insecurities, and Randall’s desperation toward an explosive conclusion. Among the four, Randall comes closest to evoking sympathy with his frantic denial of the inevitable, but when he nonchalantly refers to Earth as a “solid starter planet,” it is the Muskian grandiosity that carries the comedic weight.
Armstrong seems to instinctively understand the inherent strengths (speed, focus) and weaknesses (emotion, depth) of the cinematic medium he employs. The ambition of “Mountainhead” is notably less grand than diagnosing the fundamental dysfunction of the privileged elite who govern our world, opting instead to showcase their dysfunction in a hilariously caustic manner. With sharp references to ethical philosophy, the term “Ayn Bland,” and a particularly grim mention of Jamal Khashoggi, “Mountainhead” possesses the wit and intellect to strike at its intended target.
Currently, “Mountainhead” is streaming on Max and will air on HBO on May 31st at 8 p.m. ET.
Maya Kensington
Tessa Everly
