Yet what’s real for this quartet of digital oligarchs — none of whom has a seemingly direct real-life corollary, all of whom are immediately recognizable — is more to the point of Mountainhead, a frightfully credible comedy about the delusions of tech utopianism. Each of the four, with the exception of some hesitancy on the part of Jeff, are zealous futurists. On the way to Mountainhead, a doctor gives Randall a fatal diagnosis that he outright refuses. “All the things we can do and we can’t fix one tiny little piece of gristle in me?”
But together, in Armstrong’s dense, highly quotable dialogue, their arrogance reaches hysterical proportions. While the cast is altogether excellent, this is most true with Smith’s Venis, a tech bro to end all tech bros. As the news around the world gets worse and worse, his certainty doesn’t waver. Earth, itself, no longer hold much interest for him. “I just want to get us transhuman!” he shouts.
Progress (along with net worth) is their cause, and much of the farce of Mountainhead derives from just how much any semblance of compassion for humanity has left the building. It’s in the way Venis blanches at the mention of his baby son. It’s in the way, as death counts escalate in the news on their phones, they toy with world politics like kids at a Risk board. In one perfectly concise moment, Venis asks, sincerely, “Do you believe in other people?”