Steve Jobs

Over the course of Danny Boyle’s Steve Jobs, Micheal Fassbender’s Jobs compares himself to Julius Caesar and God. Thankfully, Boyle and screenwriter Aaron Sorkin are much more ambivalent in their view of Apple’s infamous CEO. Charting three pivotal moments in his career, the film delves into the complexity of Jobs’ narcissism, and the childhood traumas that helped create a man who prized the predictability of machines above any human relationship.
Boyle and Sorkin’s film is not a documentary nor a biopic, more an attempt to capture the essence of Jobs; an essence with undertones of tortured genius, and heavy top-notes of sheer asshole.
Fassbender is perfect in the lead – chilly, relentlessly rational and impervious to emotional pleas from erstwhile partner Steve Wozniak (Seth Rogen) and ex-girlfriend Chrisann Brennan (Katherine Watson). His daughter Lisa, who Jobs denied for years, becomes the one cheaply-played note in the film. Though portrayed as a humanising force, his feelings for her remain unclear, subsumed under self-concern above all else.
Boyle summons up some engaging visual flourishes, intercutting past and present, and using flashes of visuals to evoke both memory and imagination. Though inconsistent, his whimsical use of lighting, angles and projections makes Steve Jobs feel more layered than the typical Sorkin- scribed boardroom conflict drama – though Daniel Pemberton’s relentless, digital-inspired score evokes melodrama where human drama is enough.
The supporting characters act as a humane foil to Jobs. Seth Rogen in particular is deeply empathetic as Jobs’ erstwhile partner Steve Wozniak, whose belief in decency as well as hard work is belied by the ruthless capitalism the film highlights, and that Jobs comes to embody. It’s he who calls into question our perception and worship of genius – Jobs doesn’t care about consumers, but he can play the game. Boyle leaves us mulling over one question: why do we allow certain people to become winners?