As Horwitz, White serves up a traditional, muted portrayal of a man so devoted to his job that he’s severely fun-deprived. Oddly sufficient, it takes a sensible, ultra-serious tech engineer to loosen him up, and his scenes with Madison, during which their characters banter and spar, are the film’s finest. At one level he refers to Frances as a Cassandra, citing the story of the cursed Trojan princess who has the reward of predicting the longer term, although nobody believes her. Solely he’s mangled and misapplied the parable; Frances units him straight, and fills him in on the right metaphorical that means of Rooster Little and the Boy Who Cried Wolf as effectively. It’s Madison who anchors the film. Frances wears studious-schoolgirl glasses, and he or she suffers from neuropathy: In chilly San Francisco, she must bundle up in chunky leg heaters and wristlets to maintain numbness at bay—this garb provides her a waifish air. At one level she describes herself as “the lady in school together with her hand raised that no person needs the trainer to name on.” That’s a mouthful of traditional Sorkinese if ever there have been one, however as she spins the phrases out, Madison is so plaintive that she makes you see that lady. Frances Haugen is the conscience and the true hero of The Social Reckoning, and Sorkin is aware of it. He virtually palms the film over to Madison, and even in a film crammed with speaking—and infrequently with guys speaking—it’s her stalwart but unassuming presence that makes it sing.
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