Imagine being trapped in a geometric monstrosity on a mountain with four of the worst people you have ever known. Now imagine they are richer than anyone you’ve ever met. And yet, they’re just witty enough that their trash talk is a bit more complex than typical. That gets you, broadly, to the experience of Mountainhead, the first feature film from writer/director Jesse Armstrong.

At Hugo Van Yalk’s (Jason Schwartzman) new ski lodge/ostentatious act of overcompensation, Hugo—and his staff—diligently prepare for the arrival of his friends, the “Broosters”. They’re a trio of tech billionaires and Hugo, whose worth isn’t quite a “b-nut,” as he insists on calling it. Besides Hugo, there’s Venis (Cory Michael Smith), an Elon type whose social media app is platforming fake images so real they’re stoking violence worldwide. The only way to curtail it seems to be Jeff’s (Ramy Youssef) AI, which can discern real from fake even when humans can’t. The three of them all came up under Randall (Steve Carell), a venture capitalist terrified of his own mortality who couches all his choices in philosophy and historical events he clearly doesn’t understand.

While Randall was their mentor, Venis has long outstripped him as the wealthiest member of the group. Now, Jeff is closing quickly as his coffers fill thanks to the horrors Venis’s platform creates. As the world outside descends into chaos, this quartet plays at being the philosopher kings the planet needs while cutting at each other with barely passive-aggressive digs. And then someone starts thinking like Raskolnikov, and the world’s savagery no longer seems as removed.

Despite the scale of things, Mountainhead evokes nothing for this writer as much as the 1998 film Hurlyburly. Both feature a quartet of frenemies who are some of the most unpleasant individuals you can imagine. Over several hours, both groups unravel in the face of longstanding grudges, their delusional self-images, and addictions. The only difference is their poisons of choice. The “men” of Hurlyburly favor the usual: pills, booze, cocaine. Our Mountainhead billionaires, on the other hand, can’t stop mainlining utopic tech visions and worshipping their bank account numbers.

While they’re all reprehensible people, the scripting and the actors’ performances nicely find a unique lane for each. Carell is badly trying to intellectualize away his existential terror as his cancer turns his body against him and his proteges surpass him. He’s excellent at evoking the brittleness of a man who’s come to assume his superiority realizing he’s not. The moments his nastiness turns from tech frat insults to straight-up rage are smartly played not as intimidating but as tantrums.

Schwartzman is obsequious. A desperate hope that the others will let him know he’s good enough, as he clearly doesn’t think so, tinges his every interaction. The revelation of his nickname, pronounced “Super,” is the cherry on top of braying insecurity.

Smith is the alpha and, thus, the most pathetic. His every line is either a play at affirming his masculinity or an attempt to burrow further into self-denial. He’s a monster who behaves as if he can talk himself into believing his craven business practices will birth a new world order. Once he does so, surely the rest of reality will fall into line. Watching his furtively trying to connect with his infant son in Mountainhead’s driveway for a few minutes is probably the hardest burn on a certain real-life social media mogul this year.

Finally, there’s Youssef, the only Brooster unconvinced that the quarter aren’t rightful rulers of the planet. In a sea of amorality and egotism, it can be easy to attach to him as the “good one.” Youssef smartly plays into that while giving glimpses of the truth. He’s just as nasty as they, just as willing to let the world burn to prove a point. The fact that his miracle software is an AI moderator is a big giveaway. He’s just another paper king who’d rather cede control to a machine than fix things himself. The final nail in the coffin is his “concerns” about his girlfriend Hester (Hadley Robinson). Like all obsessives, he hides his controlling behaviors and insecurities under a veil of “watching out for her” and does so poorly. Even Schwartzman’s Hugo has more dignity in those moments.

Mountainhead is at its best in the middle third when the four monitor the falling of governments, assassinations, and looting as if they’re getting the scores on a basketball game they’re too anxious just to sit down and watch. As they justify and self-aggrandize, they prefer to lay claim to South American companies and cause brownouts in Europe than do anything to help. For all their Masters of the Universe posturing, they’re just children playing imaginary games. Combined, they have more money than many countries. Despite that, the Broosters are just as helpless to clean up their own messes as they are to figure out why the kitchen sink won’t work.

After the middle, the movie deflates a bit. It seems to stumble a bit even as it escalates the group’s inner turmoil. However, it is only in the last ten minutes that the wheels truly come off. One can feel what Armstrong is reaching for, a final reminder that they’re so removed from humanity that everything we’ve witnessed is as much chest thumping as their “witty” jokes about each other. Coming after the 80 minutes, the audience has already endured, it feels both unconvincing and redundant. It is a strange moment of flinching after a mostly unblinking look at capitalism and humanity’s darkest—and most foolish—heart. What should be a fatal blow feels more like a gentle shove.

Mountainhead has reached the peak of HBO Max and HBO and is waiting for viewers there.

Mountainhead Trailer: