'You Can See Everything' review: Nathan Fielder turns Elizabeth Holmes doc into a masterclass in manipulation
Courtesy of A24
It’s not often in our oversaturated media landscape that something genuinely catches us off guard anymore. We’ve become so accustomed to outrageous headlines, stranger-than-fiction stories, and the seemingly endless parade of public figures behaving like lunatics that the capacity to be truly shocked feels increasingly rare. Yet Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim’s “You Can See Everything” manages to accomplish exactly that for nearly three hours, documenting disgraced Theranos founder Elizabeth Holmes during the final 34 days before she reported to federal prison to begin serving her decade long sentence.
To call this movie bonkers would be an understatement. One revelation gives way to another, each somehow more jaw-dropping than the last, as Fielder and Oppenheim construct a documentary that continually challenges our understanding of what we’re watching and, more importantly, whom we’re supposed to believe. Holmes, after all, was convicted of defrauding investors through a company built on promises it couldn’t deliver. Or, as she would have us believe, was she simply misunderstood? Does she genuinely consider herself the victim of an elaborate miscarriage of justice? And why, of all people, would she enlist Fielder, a comedian and filmmaker whose entire career has been built around exposing the absurdities of human behavior, to help tell her story?
Those questions form the backbone of one of the most fascinating documentaries I’ve seen in years, a movie that understands the value of withholding easy answers and allowing its subjects to reveal themselves, often without realizing what they’re revealing. It’s an endlessly provocative exercise in perception and self-delusion that might leave you more perplexed than when you walked in. It’s also one of the best movies of the year, hell, probably even the decade.
That Holmes would invite Fielder into her Del Mar, California, home to document her family’s life around the clock is already a head-scratcher, particularly since he eventually moves in with them. Fielder seems equally perplexed by the arrangement, and the film wastes little time addressing the elephant in the room. In an early exchange, Fielder even questions his own credentials and suitability for the project, though he’s quick to push back against the suggestion that his reputation for absurdist comedy somehow makes him incapable of understanding the complexities of Theranos and the allegations surrounding it.
It’s a fascinating introduction to the uneasy relationship that develops between filmmaker and subject, especially because Fielder refuses to behave like the sympathetic documentarian Holmes might have envisioned. Anyone familiar with “Nathan for You” or “The Rehearsal,” the latter of which saw him learn to fly a Boeing 737 for one of the most gobsmacking television sequences of the decade (the “Miracle over the Mojave” as he called it), knows that Fielder has an almost supernatural ability to make ordinary conversations uncomfortable. Here, that talent becomes something considerably more revealing.
A scientific expert or investigative journalist he is not, but Fielder approaches Holmes with a disarming directness that proves remarkably effective. He asks simple questions, listens carefully, and refuses to let evasive answers pass without further examination. During one particularly extraordinary exchange, he presses Holmes on whether she’s ever told a lie, and her response seems to short-circuit his brain in real time. It’s hilarious, maddening, and strangely illuminating, not because Fielder catches her in some elaborate contradiction, but because the conversation exposes just how differently the two appear to understand the concept of honesty.
That disconnect becomes even more pronounced when Holmes and her partner, Billy Evans, discuss Theranos itself. Both remain steadfast in their conviction that Holmes did nothing wrong and that the company’s blood-testing technology, which promised to detect numerous medical conditions using only a few drops of blood, was legitimate and simply ahead of its time. Even more astonishing is their apparent willingness to entertain another venture into the startup world, complete with ambitions of attracting investors.
The staggering lack of self-awareness would almost be funny if the consequences of the original enterprise weren’t so serious. And that’s where “You Can See Everything” becomes more than an extended showcase for Fielder’s peculiar brand of comedy. By allowing Holmes and Evans to articulate their own version of events, the filmmakers expose the enormous distance between personal conviction and demonstrable truth. Whether Holmes believes every word she says or has simply become extraordinarily skilled at selling her own narrative is a question the movie wisely refuses to settle. Though I sincerely doubt this is going to be the glowing PR move they assumed it would be.
Then there’s Evans, who gradually emerges as an equally fascinating presence, if not an even more unpredictable one. Calling him a character feels inappropriate for a documentary, but good grief, what a character he turns out to be. His unwavering devotion to Holmes, peculiar demeanor, and increasingly contentious relationship with the filmmaking crew create an entirely different layer of tension. Fielder and Oppenheim recognize this early (over something as tedious as how the way Holmes whisks eggs annoys Evans) and allow the dynamics of their household to become just as revealing as the discussions surrounding Theranos.
One particularly uncomfortable exchange concerning how Holmes and Evans first met becomes a miniature battle over who gets to control the conversation. Their relationship is fascinating to observe, not necessarily because the film provides any definitive psychological explanation for it, but because their interactions often resemble some elaborate piece of performance art. At times, watching them navigate Fielder’s questions feels like peering into an enclosure where the subjects are fully aware they’re being observed but remain convinced they’re the ones conducting the experiment.
That tension between observer and participant is ultimately what makes the documentary so compelling. Fielder’s presence inevitably changes the behavior of everyone around him, and his established reputation makes it nearly impossible to distinguish between genuine discomfort, calculated performance, and the possibility that we’re all being led into another elaborate bit. Oppenheim, meanwhile, brings a filmmaker’s eye for the strange contradictions of human behavior, allowing moments of apparent intimacy to sit alongside scenes that feel almost too preposterous to be believed. Together, they turn the camera into both an instrument of scrutiny and another potential tool of manipulation.
To delve much further into the film’s escalating discoveries would be to spoil some of its greatest pleasures, including the unexpected involvement of a prominent A-list celebrity. Even knowing that particular surprise beforehand, however, wouldn’t diminish the sheer exhilaration of watching this unfold with a packed audience, an experience I was fortunate enough to have. The collective disbelief, nervous laughter, and occasional stunned silence become part of the experience, particularly as the movie keeps finding new ways to upend whatever assumptions we’ve made about its subjects.
For all its eccentricities, “You Can See Everything” also raises uncomfortable questions about our willingness to empathize with people whose actions have caused considerable harm. Holmes is facing a lengthy prison sentence, separated from her young children, and the film doesn’t pretend those circumstances are emotionally insignificant. But acknowledging the human cost of her punishment is not the same as absolving her of responsibility. That distinction is crucial, especially when the person asking for our sympathy has already demonstrated an extraordinary ability to influence how others perceive her.
Is what we’re watching entirely real? Has it been staged, selectively presented, or manipulated for our benefit? And if Holmes believes she can use Fielder to rehabilitate her image, is Fielder somehow using that very ambition to expose something deeper about her? The brilliance of the movie is that these questions become increasingly tangled until the act of documenting someone feels inseparable from the performance of being documented.
By the time the credits roll, I wasn’t entirely certain what to make of everything I’d witnessed, and I suspect that’s precisely the point. For nearly three hours, Fielder and Oppenheim had me completely enraptured by a story that seemed to grow more outrageous the closer they examined it. “You Can See Everything” is funny, unsettling, maddening, and endlessly engrossing, a documentary that understands that sometimes the most revealing thing you can do is give someone a camera, ask a question, and let them keep talking.
Grade: A
YOU CAN SEE EVERYTHING is now playing in theaters.
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