Ambition is a tricky thing. It can push you to greatness, but it often comes with a price—and not just in the “be careful what you wish for” kind of way. Citizen Kane (1941) and The Social Network (2010) are two films that dive headfirst into this idea, showing us how chasing success can leave you with everything you wanted but no one to share it with. Charles Foster Kane and Mark Zuckerberg might live in completely different worlds, but their stories are like two sides of the same coin: both men climb to the top, only to realize that their empires feel pretty empty without real connection.

Let’s start with ambition. Kane is fueled by ego—he wants to be seen as this larger-than-life figure, someone who’s not just rich but important. His newspaper empire isn’t just a business; it’s his way of shaping the world to reflect his values (or, let’s be real, his vanity). Zuckerberg? His motivation is a little messier. Sure, he’s brilliant, but a lot of his drive comes from being dismissed and underestimated. Creating Facebook isn’t just about changing the way we connect, it’s his way of forcing the world to notice him. What’s interesting is how both films show these characters becoming prisoners of their own success. Kane becomes obsessed with control, whether it’s over his business, his politics, or his relationships. Zuckerberg, meanwhile, loses sight of his humanity as he zeros in on making Facebook a global phenomenon. Both guys might be geniuses, but their emotional intelligence? Practically nonexistent.

The real gut-punch in both films is how their personal relationships go up in flames. Kane’s downfall is practically spelled out in his relationships with his wives and his best friend, Jedediah. His second wife, Susan, literally crumbles under the weight of his expectations. Meanwhile, Jedediah, the one person who really knows him, gets tossed aside when he dares to call Kane out.

Zuckerberg’s arc is a little more subtle but no less heartbreaking. His betrayal of Eduardo Saverin, his co-founder and closest friend, is brutal. Watching Jesse Eisenberg’s Zuckerberg lawyer up and ice out Eduardo in that pivotal confrontation scene hits hard because you see just how far he’s willing to go to protect his empire. By the end of the film, Zuckerberg’s left refreshing his own creation—Facebook—alone in the glow of his laptop. It’s tragic, really.

Both Orson Welles and David Fincher use style to hammer home their themes. In Citizen Kane, Welles leans into deep focus shots that make Kane’s world look big but isolating. There’s this amazing shot of Kane standing in the cavernous halls of Xanadu, his mansion, that perfectly sums up his loneliness. The lighting is stark and dramatic, mirroring Kane’s gradual descent into darkness, both literally and figuratively.

Fincher’s approach in The Social Network is just as deliberate. The digital cinematography gives the film this cold, sleek look, like Zuckerberg’s world is as emotionally distant as he is. The editing, especially in the deposition scenes, is razor-sharp, cutting back and forth between the past and present to show how Zuckerberg’s decisions keep catching up with him. Both films use their visual language to underline how disconnected these men are, even when they’re at the height of their power.

Both Kane and Zuckerberg are obsessed with controlling how the world sees them. Kane literally runs a media empire to craft his image, but that infamous final word—“Rosebud”—reveals that deep down, he’s haunted by what he lost along the way. Zuckerberg, on the other hand, builds a platform designed to connect people but ends up the loneliest guy in the room. The irony is almost too perfect: both men get everything they want, only to realize it’s not enough.

Citizen Kane and The Social Network might be separated by 70 years, but they’re telling the same story in different ways. Ambition can drive you to the top, but it’s a lonely view if you burn every bridge along the way. Kane and Zuckerberg are reminders that success without connection isn’t really success—it’s just a gilded cage.