I watched You Can See Everything in theaters, not knowing quite what to expect. I’d watched the trailer at least 20 times beforehand, read the movie’s wiki (I know, I know, I shouldn’t have), and watched countless clips of The Dropout to glean as much information as possible in preparation. I’d heard people call the movie a work of art. It has a 99% score on Rotten Tomatoes, and I recall one critic saying they’d be thinking about it for a long time. Needless to say, I walked in with a lot of anticipation.
I must say, the movie did not disappoint.
To give a brief overview, You Can See Everything is ostensibly a documentary about Nathan Fielder (a deadpan comedian) and Lance Oppenheim (a filmmaker) staying with Elizabeth Holmes (the disgraced former CEO of Theranos) and her husband, Billy Evans, to chronicle their family life in the 30 days leading up to her 11-year prison sentence. But the movie is much more than that... and the second half is wildly different from the first.
One detail worth pointing out: Holmes herself asked for this documentary to be made.
SPOILERS AHEAD
Billy, as Holmes’ husband, plays a huge role in the film. Initially, he comes across as a supportive partner who adores her personality quirks. But as the film progresses, we begin to question whether his affection is intertwined with the control he exercises over their finances and her public image.
He's been managing her Twitter accounts, publishing an AI-generated version of her online, and supporting a media personality who's been putting up billboards featuring Holmes all over the place... billboards with images she openly disapproves of on camera. When Fielder confronts Billy about this, Billy insists that Holmes approves of everything he does and would wholeheartedly agree with his decisions. Her life's goal, he claims, is to build monuments of love for him. And, rather surprisingly, she verbally agrees.
To complicate matters further, Billy attempts to strike a deal with A24 to profit financially from their participation in the film. Whether Holmes knows about this becomes something of a mystery, one that Fielder investigates in a revealing climax.
So, do Billy and Holmes actually love each other?
At one point, Holmes' father reveals that she was raped at Stanford. He goes on to suggest that Sunny Balwani, the former COO of Theranos, was largely responsible for her downfall. Yet when Fielder asks him about Billy, he simply says, "I trust Billy." Does he genuinely believe that? Or is there something else going on? We can't really know. But by this point, it's difficult not to view Billy's behavior as controlling, perhaps even narcissistic.
As for Holmes herself, the film complicates our perception of her guilt by presenting someone who appears remarkably sincere. She cries frequently on camera, speaks passionately about her good intentions for Theranos and the world, and seems genuinely affectionate toward Billy and their children.
There are also sequences that suggest her mind works differently from other people's. For example, she struggles to understand the classic joke "Who's on First?" and, in a rather stunning sequence, can't seem to grasp the distinction between the phrases "this machine can run multiple tests" and "this machine is capable of running multiple tests." She also describes herself as overly trusting.
All of this raises an interesting question: what really explains Holmes' downfall? Is she a victim of sexual assault and toxic relationships? Is she a calculating genius who knows exactly how to manipulate people's perceptions? Could both things be true?
The film doesn't offer easy answers. In fact, contradictions in Holmes' narrative continue to emerge. She claims she never felt comfortable in the spotlight and doesn't particularly care about being rich. Yet she agrees to have a documentary made about her, and her husband seems deeply invested in controlling and commercializing her public image.
Perhaps the most interesting relationship in the film, though, isn't between Holmes and Billy. It's between Holmes and Fielder.
Throughout the documentary, Holmes appears unfailingly kind to Fielder, allowing him to "see everything." She maintains unwavering eye contact when he questions her, embraces him warmly, and continues to show him affection even from prison. Somewhere along the way, Fielder seems to develop a soft spot for her.
In the second half of the film, he brings in Amanda Seyfried (who played Holmes in The Dropout) to reenact moments from Holmes' life that he didn't get a chance to film. As they work through the script, Seyfried raises a fascinating meta-dilemma: what if Fielder is selectively remembering Holmes' words in ways that make her appear more genuine?
"Why?" he asks.
"Because you care about her," Seyfried replies.
Fielder defends the accuracy of his recollections, but there's a certain twinkle in his eyes as he reminisces about his time with Holmes. It's a subtle moment, but one that makes us question his objectivity.
By the end, I almost wondered whether the joke was on us, the audience, for trusting Fielder to tell us the truth. A classic Nathan for You move.
And this brings me to what I found perhaps the most fascinating idea in the film.
At one point, Fielder talks about the magician David Blaine, who performs a magic trick by actually sticking an ice pick through his hand, while the audience assumes it's an illusion. The trick works precisely because the audience can't imagine that what they're seeing is real.
I think this analogy translates remarkably well to Holmes' performance in the documentary.
What if Holmes' greatest trick is that she doesn't have to pretend to be a victim? What if her suffering in a controlling relationship is entirely genuine, but witnessing that suffering leads us to believe she's innocent of wrongdoing elsewhere?
After all, being a victim in one part of your life doesn't necessarily make you innocent in another.
Perhaps that's the real trick. Just as Fielder seems increasingly swayed by Holmes' apparent sincerity, we find ourselves sympathizing with her without ever really knowing her intentions. And maybe that's exactly what the film wants us to confront: how easily we mistake sincerity for truth.
You Can See Everything is a fascinating film to watch, reflect on, and discuss. I would highly recommend it.
