A long time ago, my screenwriting teacher said something about storytelling that I'd never forget. We were discussing how to start a movie, a surprisingly tough task given the numerous ways you can grab the audience's attention. A great film can do this with a catchy song, a sudden shootout, or a slow burn sequence, just any way that keeps the audience hooked.
However, my professor had a different approach. Instead, he said that in order to write the beginning we must know how the story ends first. Everything in the middle can shift one way or another, but we have to know where the road leads before we start building it.
At first, this baffled me. After drafting characters and story ideas, it seemed like they could go in any direction at any time. I never wanted to sweep them into a cell and lock them in by the time I finished my first page.
Several years later though, I now understand the beauty this sentiment holds. I don't believe that every film must be written this way, but when a story's beginning and ending are woven together, the story feels complete in a way that emphasizes its tone and themes.
As such, I thought it would be interesting to look at ten of the best films that connect their beginnings to their endings. There's no mistaking the carefully laid pieces amongst these films, as the themes, characters, and motifs set up in the opening are clearly echoed in the film's final scene. While a good film wraps things up on some thematic level, these films directly acknowledge the opening scene's importance as more than a jumping off point.
Of course, I'm also going to be ranking them. However, this isn't necessarily a ranking of the films that have the best openings and closings. Rather, my rankings are determined by how well the first and final scene tie into each other, as well as how that changes the overall story.
Also, I will mostly be focusing on the beginning and endings of each film for my rankings. While I have to touch on the middle scenes and storylines a little bit, this list is really about how well the openings and endings work together.
Ultimately, this list focuses on ten great opening scenes and ten great closing scenes that tie themselves together for emotional punches, complex character arcs, and stories that start where they end. Without further ado, these are the ten best films with the best opening and closing scenes.
10. The Lion King (1994)
Sometimes, a movie ties its opening and closing scene together with a simple thread, such as an important location or moment in time. For Disney's 1994 smash hit, The Lion King, that thread forms via music, primarily through the film's opening song, "Circle of Life." Courtesy of Elton John and Tim Rice, "Circle of Life" acts as a sweeping bookends to Simba's (Matthew Broderick) coming of age journey.
In the opening scene, "Circle of Life" works as the film's stunning introduction to the savannah. While Carmen Twillie and Lebo M sing, the film shows a vibrant sunrise, followed by the movement of numerous animals. From elephants to mice, the African creatures travel to Pride Rock for the presentation of the new prince. As the song hits its chorus, Simba is hoisted into the air above a sea of rejoicing animals.
While the scene might be straightforward, it remains a stunning introduction to Simba's role in the world. Although he's only a small cub, he will eventually have the onus of protecting every animal throughout the savannah. Like his father, Mufasa (James Earl Jones), there's glory and power awaiting young Simba.
However, by the film's ending, Simba has learned about the responsibilities and costs of such an important role. He loses Mufasa early in the story and soon struggles to live up to his destiny. He even runs away, as he'd rather shrug off his royal duties than face his problems.
Of course, he eventually returns to become king, and undoes the harm that his uncle Scar (Jeremy Irons) has wrought. By the time that "Circle of Life" plays again, Simba has fully stepped up to the role of king. While he's not quite Mufasa, Simba has made his own mistakes, lived up to them, and is ready to raise his own child to someday take over the throne.
"Circle of Life" then truly encapsulates this story, as Simba's story has come full circle. In the opening scene, the song attests to the natural flow of life that the animals must abide by, hence why they visit the king.
However, as the film ends, the song has a second connotation. As Simba emerges from Pride Rock with his own family, the song now implies that there's a cycle to our own personal lives that we can't ignore either. We are young and make mistakes, but eventually we must learn from them and take on the roles we were meant to have. Simba does exactly this, which is why "Circle of Life" is the perfect way to start and end his journey.
9. The Graduate (1967)
In addition to Disney's musical aptness, many other films have tied distinct threads with great songs and scores. Among the best of them sit Mike Nichols' iconic coming of age film, The Graduate. Featuring great contributions from Simon and Garfunkel, The Graduate combines modern folk music with themes of identity loss and purpose. However, tis elongated identity crisis is sandwiched together by Simon and Garfunkel's "The Sound of Silence."
For its opening scene, The Graduate takes a simple approach. As "The Sound of Silence" plays, Benjamin Braddock (Dustin Hoffman) makes his way through the Los Angeles airport. He has just graduated and is returning home to start the next chapter of his life. There's no hints of happiness or excitement though, as the somber song implies a state of confusion for Benjamin. His blank expression could mean many things, but the sullen lyrics that supersede him imply he is a man searching for answers.
From then on, the film confirms Benjamin's confusion, showing how directionless he really is. He shows no inclinations of aspiration and eventually stumbles into a love triangle with his married neighbor, Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft), and her daughter, Elaine (Katharine Ross). Of course, things get messy fast, and both grow to hate him, with the latter deciding to marry someone at her college.
In the film's final act though, Benjamin impetuously crashes the wedding, screaming for Elaine to take him back. Shockingly, she reciprocates and the two run off together, dismaying much of the wedding party.
In the decades prior, this would have been a triumphant finish to a classic Hollywood romance. However, the final scene infers a vastly different reading than what the events outright imply. As Benjamin and Elaine board a bus to begin their lives, the camera lingers on their faces, which gradually change from ecstatically joyful to subtly indifferent.
Although the film's ending was considered ambiguous at the time, it's become clear that this is no happy ending. The characters' choices are ultimately rash, just like the ones that created this complex triangle in the first place. Despite everything, Benjamin is just as lost as he was in the beginning of the film.
If there's any doubt about the outcome, "The Sound of Silence" returns to confirm that Benjamin hasn't really grown at all. The hopelessness and loss of self that the song imply are rampant problems for Ben, ones that he can't dissolve in the confines of anyone but himself.
8. Trainspotting (1996)
Stepping away from the musical threads, we're now getting into the openings and closings that are tied by clear thematic markers. For Danny Boyle's dark comedy, Trainspotting, the parallels between the first and final scene are as unmistakable as they are brilliantly intertwined.
Of course, a movie about heroin addicts needs a memorable opening scene and Boyle certainly delivers. Jumping straight into action, we meet Mark Renton (Ewan McGregor) as he's on the run from authorities. He explains through repetitive dialogue how there's a wide world that he's willfully missing. To the tune of Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life," Mark names everything that he opted out of from a respectable career to a loving family, all to become a heroin addict.
From then on, Mark's life continues down an incredible spiral. Surrounded by addicts, Mark struggles to get sober, relapsing time and time again. He also makes many poor choices resulting in him getting blackmailed by a teenager, some gut wrenching deaths, and his own overdose.
At the end of the film though, Mark is presented with an opportunity. His friends set up a drug deal that will earn the group 16,000 pounds, which they get and plan to split evenly. However, in the middle of the night, Mark takes the money for himself reasoning that his friends deserve this betrayal and he can salvage his life this way.
Now, there are multiple ways to read this ending. A hopeful reading would posit that Mark has finally learned the error of his ways and indeed intends to alter his life. After experiencing a number of disturbing horrors, Mark has no choice but to flee his old life.
However, there's also a pessimistic reading that's equally valid. While Mark acknowledges the moral collapse of his friends, it can be argued that he's no better, as he stood by while atrocities occurred around him. His final decision is just another selfish one and Mark will never actually change his ways.
Either way, the ending clearly shows that Mark is on the run from what has consumed a great chunk of his life. While at the beginning he's on the run from the police, he's still within the confines of his heroin using friends, which has provided him a safety net of indulgence.
In the ending, Mark has shrugged them off for good in a way that ensures he'll never be welcomed back. Whether Mark saves himself or not, he is on the run in a metaphorical sense that's imminently more frightening than the cop chase in the beginning. By beginning and ending with Mark on the run, Trainspotting shows a character scrambling for his life, navigating an array of self made obstacles before making his final choice to leave for good.
7. Toy Story 3 (2010)
If there's one studio capable of consistently producing masterful opening and closing scenes, it's Pixar. From the somber opening of Up to the dramatic finish in Cars, Pixar understands the importance of the first and final scene. Still, there's no franchise that did this quite as well as the Toy Story films, especially the third installment.
Wisely, Toy Story 3 thrives off of the nostalgia fans have for the franchise. By the time the third installment had come out, fans of the original had nearly grown up themselves, offering Pixar a unique chance to capitalize on their audiences' feelings.
The nostalgia oozes from the beginning, as Pixar gives us a high octane action scene involving Woody (Tom Hanks), Buzz (Tim Allen), and Jessie (Joan Cusack). However, it's no random scene, but a direct callback to the opening scene of the first film. The lighthearted playtime story of a sheriff protecting his town from the evil Dr Porkchop transforms into a thrilling scene full of familiar characters. Pixar not only shows off how advanced their animation has become since their inaugural film, but they make the audience experience the exact same wonder that they did in 1995.
From then, we meet a college bound Andy (John Harris) who hasn't played with his toys in years. Both Andy and his toys' struggles to accept this transition results in a series of mishaps that ultimately send the toys to a toddler prison and threatens their lives.
By the end of the film though, Woody and Buzz have led the toys back to Andy's house. Andy intends to keep the toys this time, right up until he meets Bonnie (Emily Hahn), a neighborhood kid who found Woody for a few days. He introduces her to all of his toys and the deep lore they carry before playing with them together. At long last, Andy bids goodbye to his two favorite toys, Woody and Buzz, before finally letting go.
Of course, watching Andy relinquish his childhood is a heartbreaking scene, especially since the toys have been through so much to get back to him. However, the scene also works on a nostalgic level. Just as the opening draws on the nostalgia of the first film, the final scene acts as a goodbye to the franchise that defined our childhood.
Even more, the kids who grew up with Woody and Buzz are at the age where they're saying goodbye to their own childhoods, much like Andy. The ending then is not just a goodbye to an iconic trilogy, but a self aware catharsis for the audience experiencing the same growth. But as sad as this goodbye is, the memories we made, such as the opening play sequence, stay with us forever.
6. The Godfather (1972)
Perhaps more than any other film, The Godfather needs no introduction for its respective greatness. Nearly every element of this film is a masterful stroke that has built the film's iconic status.
Of course, the opening scene is just as iconic as the rest of the film. While his daughter gets married, Don Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando) takes care of business inside his office. According to mafia tradition, Vito cannot decline any favors on this day, resulting in a weepy Bonasera (Salvatore Corsitto) asking him to avenge his daughter. Still, Vito commands the situation, demanding respect and friendship before conceding this favor.
From the dark lighting to the dialogue, this opening scene tells us everything we need to know about Vito. He's certainly a crime boss, as he agrees to murder, but that's not how he sees himself. Instead, Vito sees his position as one of honor, as he crusades to protect his family and business, the two things he derives pride from the most.
Moreover, this scene builds Michael's (Al Pacino) character by omitting him from it entirely. While Sonny (James Caan) is there with his father, learning the trades of the family, Michael enjoys the festivities outside along with his girlfriend Kay (Diane Keaton). The rest of the film would expound on Sonny's role as the heir to the Corleone business, as well as Michael's intentions to go nowhere near it, but the opening scene subtly establishes this dynamic.
Of course, two and a half hours later, the situation has completely changed. Vito and Sonny have passed away and Michael has stepped up to the Godfather mantle. By the film's end, Michael has eliminated many enemies, including his sister's traitorous husband.
In the film's final moments, his sister, Connie (Talia Shire), confronts him about the murder, which he denies doing. Kay watches horrified at Connie's breakdown, before asking Michael herself. He responds with ire at her intrusion, but eventually tells her that he didn't do it. She leaves relieved, but turns with a lingering doubt, as Michael shuts her outside of the office.
It might seem like a loose connection, but this business room that connects the first and final scenes means everything for Michael's arch. At the beginning, he's left completely out of the room while his dad and brother handle the family dealings. He's happy though, as he spends time with his girlfriend unafflicted by his family's shady business.
By the end though, Michael ends up running things himself from the same room. While earlier events forced him to step up for his family, Michael willingly locks himself in the room, shutting Kay out of his life. Although he was in a crossroads before, Michael chooses to be a crime lord first, pushing everything else away.
These two scenes not only show how Michael has stepped up to the role of Don, but how he proves to be a much crueler head than Vito. While Vito insists he's a respected leader who protects the family, Michael brutally seizes control, even killing members of his own family. Of course, this trend continues in the sequel, but it's the direct comparison to who he was in the first scene that makes it a tragic rise to power.
5. Big Fish (2003)
From one father son film to another, Big Fish remains an underrated classic over two decades after its release. Directed by Tim Burton, this film depicts a father, Edward Bloom (Albert Finney/Ewan McGregor), who charms the world by telling fantastical tall tales. Throughout the film, Edward's magical tales come to life, including encounters with giants, werewolves, and witches. His son, William (Billy Crudup), grows a disdain for them though, as he sees them as lies that prevented him from ever getting to know his father.
In the film's opening scene, we see the story that defines Edward the most, his encounter with the titular big fish. On the day that William was born, Edward decided to go fishing, as he aimed to reel in a prehistoric catfish of legendary reputation. Ultimately, he reels in the fish, but only after using his wedding ring as bait.
Throughout William's life, Edward tells this story nearly every chance he gets to William's chagrin. At his son's wedding, Edward retells the story, leading to a big blowout between the two that severs communication for years.
By the film's end though, William has learned a lot of the truth behind Edward's stories. Against all odds, their strained relationship has recovered a bit, and William agrees to stay with his father in the hospital after he suffers a stroke.
In the film's climax, Edward wakes up frantically and asks William for help. William senses that this is the end of Edward Bloom's story, but he needs William to tell the final chapter.
Taking the reigns from his father, William spins a magical escape out of this sad goodbye. Edward suddenly craves water, so he and his son break out of the hospital like a jail, driving Edward's red Ferrari that he had when he was younger. They head for the river, receiving an assist from both of their wives, as well as the magical creatures from Edward's stories.
As they reach the river, Edward's friends from throughout his life ecstatically greet him. He greets his wife again in the river, before laying and down and becoming the same fish he swore he caught decades ago. Edward smiles at his son's story, before happily dying.
As cyclical as they come, this final story tells us who Edward was all along. He's a proverbial big fish in that his ambitions and accomplishments far exceeded the expectations of his small pond. However, his favorite story remains that catching the fish on the day his son was born because it entails his biggest achievement, his own son.
With William's final story, he not only undertakes his father's storytelling skills, but he connects with who his father is. These tall tales are not lies, but bombastic extensions of a legendary man. By accepting his father's stories and telling a satisfying end to Edward's life, William connects with his father in a way he had never done before. By tying everything back to that first story, Big Fish encapsulates the simple legend of Edward Bloom, as well as how storytelling fosters our relationships.
4. Vertigo (1954)
Oftentimes, the opening and closing scenes of a film bookend distinct character arcs. I find this to especially be true for character studies, where the opening scene acts as an inciting spark for a character that is not fully resolved until the film's final moments. There are really numerous character driven films that accomplish this, but it's hard to top the dizzying nature of Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo.
One of Hitchcock's most psychologically driven films, Vertigo tells the story of John "Scottie" Ferguson (Jimmy Stewart), a private detective who suffers from a fear of heights. Despite his affliction, he becomes entranced in a complex case that involves his friend's wife, Madeleine (Kim Novak), a terrifyingly tall church, and some unignorable suspicions.
In the opening scene, we learn exactly who Scottie once was. Originally a police detective, Scottie was involved in a rooftop chase that resulted in the death of a cop and left him permanently scarred. Using his groundbreaking dolly zoom, Hitchcock visualizes the crippling fear that Scottie suddenly experiences and will continue to feel whenever he's high off the ground.
Afterwards, Scottie's life has devolved. He's no longer with the police and his ex fiancé still works with him though the relationship is fractured. Eventually, Scottie gets the opportunity to work a strange case involving a woman who might be possessed. It takes a turn though when Scottie falls for her, right before she dies. Of course, the story doesn't end there as Scottie sees a woman who looks exactly like Madeleine and eventually deduces that he has been duped.
In the film's final scene, Scottie, who has now become obsessed with the lookalike woman, forces her to return to the tall church where Madeleine "died." There, she confesses to a scheme that involved her posing as his friend's wife, so he could kill her and marry his mistress. Judy Barton, the real woman, confesses that she fell in love with Scottie though she begs for his forgiveness. However, a startling nun scares Judy off the church tower, as a stunned Scottie watches her plummet to her death.
Above all else, Scottie's story starts and ends with his battle with vertigo. His initial experience tears his life apart before rearing its head again when Madeleine fakes her death.
However, in the final scene, Scottie never oddly never struggles with vertigo. The extreme scorn and madness from his obsession with Madeleine has displaced his long running fear.
Whether it's the effect of his true adoration for Madeleine or the complete hopelessness with how this case ends, Scottie has now been cured of his vertigo. It's hard to truly discern where Scottie goes from here, as he is indeed cured, but will most likely carry this heartache with him forever.
What's for certain though is that Hitchcock marks Scottie's struggles as something that cannot be finished until the end of the film. With an ending that practically winks back at its first scene, Vertigo reveals a psychologically scarred individual driven to the brink my human fear.
3. Pulp Fiction (1994)
Many of the films on this list have found incredible ways to tie their beginnings and endings together, including everything from music to settings. However, Quentin Tarantino's out of order masterpiece, Pulp Fiction, forgoes this by simply ending exactly where it begins.
As most probably know, Pulp Fiction is a nonlinear crime story that follows an array of exciting, yet strange characters. Some of these include hitmen Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) and Vincent (John Travolta), drug addict Mia (Uma Thurman), crime boss Marsellus (Ving Rhames), and boxer Butch (Bruce Willis). However, the film actually starts with none of these characters though, opting to begin with humble bank robbers Pumpkin (Tim Roth) and Honey Bunny (Amanda Plummer).
In the opening scene, Pumpkin and Honey Bunny have breakfast at a classic diner. A couple, the two quickly verge into an argument about robberies. Pumpkin isn't interested in robbing anything, but Honey Bunny keeps egging him on. He lists all the issues with various robberies, resulting in a darkly comedic back and forth between the two. Eventually, Honey and Pumpkin share a kiss, before they stand up, and profanely announce that they're robbing the diner.
In typical Tarantino fashion, the scene cuts to black before the robbery can begin. Even more surprisingly, we don't revisit Honey and Pumpkin until the very end of the movie. In the meantime, we meet the film's iconic pair, Jules and Vincent. Due to the film's nonlinear approach, we learn a lot about each man, such as that Jules is ready to retire, Vincent is a drug addict, and Vincent eventually dies on the job.
However, at the film's end, the pair end up stumbling into the same diner from the beginning of the film. They sit down after a day of bloody excitement expecting a nice meal, but are interrupted by the criminal couple from the beginning of the film.
Honey and Pumpkin begin their robbery, but eventually end up in a standoff with Jules and Vincent. With Honey growing hysterical, things seem like they might go sour, leading to one last shootout. However, Jules, inspired by miraculous events from throughout the film, talks Pumpkin into taking his money and leaving. It works, and the pair head off to events that we had seen earlier in the film.
Unlike other films on this list, there's no great thematic tie between the first and final scene of this film. Instead, the story starts and ends at the same scene in almost arbitrary fashion. The final standoff is exciting and perhaps subversive, but it sandwiches a wide world of events that are far pulpier.
These two scenes then act as anchors for the rest of the story, a spot where you can jump off into the sea of crime and comedy and easily find your way back to. Although the rest of the story is brilliant, ending with the beginning is a clever way to confirm the cyclical nature of storytelling in general, as well as show how some arcs need a little nonlinear development.
2. Citizen Kane (1941)
When I first started this list, there were two movies that so clearly tied their opening and closing scenes together that I knew they'd be one and two on this list. While other films have used music, character dynamics, and chronological tampering, these final two films laid a clear thematic path from beginning to end in a way that dramatically altered the film's overall meaning. The first of those two is Orson Welles' Citizen Kane.
A severely lauded film, Citizen Kane is iconic for a number of reasons, starting with its legendary opening scene. Nearing the end of his life, famed businessman Charles Foster Kane (Orson Welles) reminisces over a memento, a snow globe. He suddenly dies, uttering only the phrase "Rosebud" before letting the snow globe slip from his fingers and shatter on the ground.
Throughout the rest of the film, the media works rampantly to discover the meaning of Kane's final word, unearthing Kane's life in the process. As a child, Kane was given away by his parents to a wealthy family, where he eventually became an apt business man. His following ventures include running for office, building a concert hall for his second wife, and starting an incredibly successful paper. Despite his ambitions though, Kane drives away all his friends and family, hence why he dies alone.
After a thorough search, none of the reporters can figure out what Rosebud means, deducing it's perhaps a meaningless phrase. Finally, we see workers go through Kane's enormous mansion, sorting through piles of decorative objects. A worker grabs Kane's childhood sled and throws it in the fire, which is revealed to have Rosebud painted on the front.
Though both are simply conceived, the first and final scenes are inextricably tied together. The first scene asks a question that shakes the world, but Welles waits until the final moment to answer it.
Perhaps surprisingly, most of Citizen Kane focuses on who Kane was as a person, practically becoming a pseudo-biopic. Still, "Rosebud" lingers throughout the film, even when Kane embarks on grand conquests that are seemingly unrelated. That's ultimately because "Rosebud," as defined in the first and final scenes, reconstructs the film's entire meaning.
On face level, Kane is a business tycoon of incomparable proportions. He does whatever he pleases, not for money or fame, but to build up the imperial facade of Charles Kane. His ambitions are limitless and he never backs down, resulting in the alienation of multiple wives and friends. By the time he dies, Kane is clearly an egotistical man who wanted the world and nearly got it.
However, in his dying moments, Kane calls on a simple sled from his childhood. The film indeed shows Rosebud earlier, as it's what Kane plays with outside in the snow as his parents decide to give him away. This act seems cruel, but his parents reason it's the only way he'll ever be taken care of. Still, Kane resists.
After watching Kane's dramatic rise and fall, it's clear that his afternoon in the snow was the last time he was truly happy. He had loving parents and the innocence of youth, but that was quickly taken away, replaced by a mad drive for power that eventually consumed him.
Everything that comes after, including a successful paper, a grandiose mansion, and immeasurable wealth, are all trumped by those moments spent sledding. Although Kane seems like a bad guy, the ending confirms he was just a child, clinging to a youth before all went wrong.
1. The Social Network (2010)
Alas, we end our beginning and endings list with a film that has mastered both. Like the earlier films on this list, the ties from start to finish are impossible to ignore, and like Citizen Kane, they recontextualize a vicious rise to power of one of cinema's most ambitious protagonists. Of course, I'm talking about the perennial cinephile favorite, The Social Network.
Directed by David Fincher, The Social Network remains a riveting story sixteen years after its release. The film chronicles how Mark Zuckerburg (Jesse Eisenberg) created Facebook (at least according to Ben Mezrich), including the many people he angers along the way. Ultimately, Zuckerburg is a complex figure defined by his relationships, including his friendship with Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield), partnership with Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), and the one that kicks off the film.
The story of Facebook begins in a university bar, as Zuckerburg enjoys a date with Erica Albright (Rooney Mara). Unfortunately, the date quickly runs afoul, as Zuckerburg talks incessantly and arrogantly, exhausting his girlfriend. Erica, who shows genuine affection to Zuckerburg, eventually breaks up with him, telling him in no uncertain terms that he's an asshole.
Immediately after, Zuckerburg has a drunken breakthrough that eventually becomes Facebook. His relationship with Erica soon becomes a distant memory, as he deals with litigation and broken friendships. Still, Erica appears again briefly, and Mark thinks abot her long after their relationship has ended.
At the end of the film, a lonely Mark nears the end of his litigation. Without Sean and former best friend Eduardo, he ponders the events that led him there, including his drunken blog. Eventually, he searches for Erica on Facebook, and sends her a friend request as The Beatles' "Baby, You're A Rich Man" plays the film out.
Like Charles Kane, Zuckerburg is an ambitious genius who drives everyone away in his pursuit of glory. He's also more complex than an arrogant bad guy who wants to get rich. Rather, Zuckerburg struggles to reconcile his intellectual superiority with his innate desire to be liked. He understands the social paradigms of college and greatly desires to be liked for his intellect, especially by Erica.
Obviously, Mark is terrible to her, hence her justifiable actions. Still, Mark's entire journey of technological achievement, wealth, and betrayal is all spurned from one bad breakup. You'd expect Zuckerburg to move on, especially after becoming the world's youngest billionaire, but he's still thinking about her as the movie ends.
Like other films on this list, The Social Network features a main character who ends up in a similar spot as when the movie began. Zuckerburg begins the film heartbroken and continues to pine for Erica even as the film ends.
However, what differentiates Zuckerburg from the others is that he actually shows remorse, not just for his failures with Erica, but with his friends as well. In a lonely room, Mark regrets his actions, offering an olive branch to Erica that might never be received.
Unlike Kane, Zuckerburg still has a chance to salvage what matters in his life and become a man who deserves respect. Despite his immense intellect and endless wealth, it's Zuckerburg's ability to grow and reflect on the wild events that make him a rich man. The rest of the film features a captivating rise to power, but the first and final scenes confirm that there's a vulnerable human inside of Zuckerburg's sarcastic exterior, one that just might earn his redemption.
