Danny Boyle’s film looks at important aspects of the late Apple CEO's life and how he was a man known primarily by way of his career and highly-crafted public image – and in this, writer Aaron Sorkin (adapting the book by Walter Isaacson) gives the viewer a quite literal behind-the-scenes story. From what we do know of Jobs, he was a man who valued design and structure above all else. In this, we see him obsessing over the measurements of an all-in-one computer, which is supposed to be a perfect cube, and being quite irritated by the notion that at least two of the sides are off by a matter of millimeters. Sorkin reflects that aspect of the man, by giving us a straightforward three-act structure, with the preparation for the launch events of three separate computers at three different points in Jobs' life, serving as those acts – with a notable visual contribution from director Danny Boyle using different film/video stock for each act to reflect the respective era. The film is, to all intents and purposes, boldly theatrical in presentation, which serves to make its narrative decisions all the more refreshing.

The film's scope—three specific points in time, set within two relatively fixed locations—is too limited for the broad strokes of standard biography – however there, though, is the film's central strength. It isn't broad, except, perhaps, in its psychological scrutiny of Jobs as this leads to the film's most obvious moments of biographical cramming, which Sorkin attempts to downplay by the main character's confounded response to the apparent non sequiturs. The film's specific strength is in its repeated scenario, in which Jobs, convincingly played by Michael Fassbender, finds himself preparing for the biggest moment of his life to date while having to contend with repeated onslaughts of his personal failings. He's distracted by the forthcoming presentations, of course, but the film gives us the impression of a man who would be distracted without the pressure. For a man who wants to change the world, everything unrelated to his work is a irritating distraction, and anyone who even hints that he might have emotional deficiencies is perceived as an obstacle. This interpretation of Jobs paints him as the loneliest, most insecure man in a room filled with people who believe he's a genius. This Jobs wants everyone in the world to know not only that he's a genius, but also that he's a certain kind of genius. He'd much prefer it if everyone failed to accept that the company's co-founder Steve Wozniak (Seth Rogen) actually did all the building and coding of the first computer they made in a garage. It pisses him off that John Sculley (Jeff Daniels in a superb performance here too), the man whom Jobs courted to become the company's CEO, seems to have a better business sense than him. It drives him into a controlled rage that Time magazine chose the computer over him for the title of "Man of the Year" and that, to add insult to injury, the computer on the cover isn't even from his company.  Joanna Hoffman (Kate Winslet), the head of Jobs' marketing team and his semi-confidant, tries to keep Jobs' fragile ego in check, while also attempting to make him face his personal responsibilities. The main one of those is Chrisann Brennan (Katherine Waterston), who is the mother of Jobs' daughter Lisa (Makenzie Moss, Ripley Sobo, and Perla Haney-Jardine at the character's various ages). Jobs denies that he's the girl's father, despite a paternity test all but confirming it. All of this is in 1984, as Jobs readies himself for the announcement of the Macintosh personal computer. A lot of that bleeds into 1988 after Jobs left or, depending on whom one asks, was fired from the company and ventured out on his own. He's a man of grand vision who either obsesses over little details (the Macintosh's "voice" saying ‘hello’) or dismisses vital ones (his alleged "perfect cube" doesn't actually have an operating system) depending on the potential outcome.

In the third act in 1998, Jobs has transformed into the jeans-and-black-poloneck-wearing bespectacled guy in white trainers whom everyone loves. He seems to have become more laid back, but it could well be just an act. So what does all of this tell us? It fails to illuminate too much about the man or his career that a person with even a passing interest in Jobs wouldn't already know. However, it fails to acknowledge peerless design genius Sir Jonathan Ives (his surname’s initial, heralding the prefix on the world’s best selling technological communications apparatus). Therefore it might seem odd to praise and actually make a film about a real-life subject that doesn't offer a great deal of enlightenment on the actual protagonist, but Steve Jobs is highly effective as an exercise in classical form, highlighted by Sorkin's biting brand of hyper-aware dialogue and a breathtakingly outstanding performance from Fassbender. In essence the film is a highly efficient dramatic device.