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The extent to which Mountainhead, HBO’s latest dark comedy-drama from Succession creator Jesse Armstrong, elicits laughter largely hinges on your familiarity with tech billionaires who view themselves as extraordinary figures destined to influence history. If you’ve spent a lot of time hearing Silicon Valley leaders expound on topics like reality as a simulation, "universal basic compute," and humanity as a mere "biological bootloader" for AI, the characters in Mountainhead may not seem like ridiculous caricatures. Conversely, if you haven’t engaged with billionaires proclaiming their ambitions for immortality or colonization of Mars, Mountainhead might resonate with you as a sharp critique of the ultra-wealthy oligarchs.
In the current climate, where we’ve seen some of the wealthiest tech moguls pledge allegiance to Donald Trump for more power, the film’s portrayal of tech entrepreneurs considering a global takeover feels strikingly believable, bordering on realism rather than satire. However, each lead performance in Mountainhead is charged with an intense, frenetic energy that underscores the notion that, beneath all their self-serving myths, billionaire founders are simply individuals with enough wealth to project their anxieties onto others.
Although Armstrong delves into familiar themes, Mountainhead diverges significantly from Succession. This film boasts a frantic pacing that mirrors its swift writing and shooting process, but it still effectively highlights how detached today’s industrial titans can be from reality when left unchecked.
Set mainly in an opulent lodge high in the Utah mountains, Mountainhead features a quartet of ridiculously wealthy friends who gather for a weekend of leisure and rivalry while the world spirals toward disaster.
One character, social media mogul Venis (Cory Michael Smith), is aware that the generative AI tools on his Twitter-like platform, Traam, could spark chaos by bombarding users with deepfakes meant to incite anger and endless scrolling. Despite being aware of the association between his creation and societal unrest, including rising violence against immigrants and minorities, Venis, enjoying his peak net worth, brushes aside the bad press and the troubling content saturating Traam.
Much like Mission: Impossible — The Final Reckoning, Mountainhead tackles AI’s potential to distort truth and reshape public perception as a threat that warrants concern. However, rather than a story about humanity racing to avert a tech-driven apocalypse, Armstrong focuses more on how the harmful potentials of AI directly stem from the mindsets of its creators.
Venis isn’t the only tech giant rolling his eyes as Traam’s AI contributes to global unrest and violence. His associates, who call themselves the Brewsters, share similar sentiments. James (Steve Carell), a steely, Steve Jobs-esque figure who cannot accept his terminal cancer diagnosis, views Traam’s success as evidence that Venis is paving the way to monopolize digital consciousness.
Even Jeff (Ramy Youssef), creator of a rival AI that effectively identifies deepfakes and who frequently criticizes Venis on podcasts, can’t ignore that Traam’s harmful content has paradoxically augmented his own valuation. As the "poorest" of the Brewsters, multimillionaire health enthusiast Hugo / "Soup Kitchen" (Jason Schwartzman) willingly endorses his friends’ activities, seeking financial backing for his latest wellness app venture. Yet, the deeper truth highlighted by Armstrong is that gatherings like that of the Brewsters often require someone willing to engage in absurd games to maintain a facade of camaraderie.
Soup’s invitation for the Brewsters to enjoy a weekend at Mountainhead—a drab, ostentatious vacation home steeped in newfound wealth and an absurd fascination with Ayn Rand—seems rooted in the desire to have fun. However, once the group is assembled and their assistants—largely the film’s few female characters—are dismissed, underlying resentments emerge. When a call comes in from the unnamed US president regarding the escalating deepfake situation on Traam, the Brewsters see a chance to turn the crisis into an opportunity for a real-life game of Risk.
Despite its limited settings, Mountainhead avoids feeling like a constricted stage play about delusional billionaires arguing atop a mountain. While few of the Brewsters’ conflicts elicit genuine laughter, the characters each personify the culture that birthed today’s celebrity tech founder archetype. Armstrong aims for us to perceive them as morally bankrupt individuals who are high on their own hype but also as deeply flawed men whose obsessions with metrics and status reflect profound insecurity.
Elements like James’ fraught relationship with his doctor and the oddly homoerotic rivalry between Venis and Jeff in the film’s third act are intriguing, yet they may suggest that Mountainhead would benefit from being developed into a miniseries. This would allow for more exploration of how the Brewsters navigate their world and what draws them together beyond their wealth.
Just as Mountainhead begins to escalate and reveal its chaotic elements, it rushes to a conclusion that feels both justified
