The energy in the lobby of Alice Tully Hall was kinetic on the night of Sept. 30, as press, patrons, and the public eagerly awaited the New York Film Festival's New York premiere of You Can See Everything. The documentary's existence went from a well-kept secret to an internet sensation when A24 dropped a teaser on Sept. 6 showing notorious Theranos founder Elizabeth Holmes having an intimate conversation with heralded comedian Nathan Fielder.
The project seemed preposterous, like something born from MadLibs or a brain-rot meme. However, the world premiere at a secret screening at the Telluride Film Festival, which was timed to the teaser debut, not only proved this movie was real, but also launched much buzz and absolutely unhinged rumors about what it contains.
The New York crowd was downright giddy to see for themselves if You Can See Everything, co-directed by Fielder and Lance Oppenheim (Primetime), could live up to the hype. Personally, I was dubious. Holmes had already been the subject of the heralded book Bad Blood, an Alex Gibney documentary called The Inventor, the podcast series The Dropout, and Hulu's dramatic adaptation of the same name, which starred Amanda Seyfried as Holmes. What could be left to say on this subject?
Well, I was wrong. Because the answer there is plenty. And You Can See Everything is a masterwork of interrogation, not only of the whole Holmes situation but of documentary as a form itself. And if you're thinking that sounds dry, let me confirm some of the rumors. Yes, there's full-frontal nudity, outrageous statements, bonkers twists, and laughs big and uncomfortable. But there's something more cerebral and unnerving that makes this not exactly a crowdpleaser, but a real stunner.
You Can See Everything is ridiculous on its face.
Why Nathan Fielder? It's a question he asks Holmes in the film's first half, as he's a comedian known for blurring the lines of reality and performance with shows like Nathan For You and The Rehearsal. Holmes responds with a warm smile and an answer that is intriguingly elusive, as much of her answers will be. Over and over, she insists she's being transparent and truthful. But as that much-talked-about teaser clip suggests, it's hard to trust her, and harder to tell if she's telling the truth.
Making the movie more bizarre, You Can See Everything began shooting in the 36 days before Holmes turned herself over to authorities to begin her prison sentence for fraud. And during that time, not only did she allow Fielder and his crew of seven into her home with her children and her fiancé, Billy Evans, but she invited him to move into their cramped beach house in the San Diego neighborhood of Del Mar. And he did.
This should make the audience question Fielder's perspective on Holmes, as he might be accused of getting too close with the subject he's meant to investigate. But this is precisely what You Can See Everything wants you to question — but not just this.
The film begins with camera angles and conversations between Holmes and Evans (or Liz and Billy, as they call each other) as if we're a fly on the wall. Then, Fielder becomes visible, lurking from a corner or outside their home. He is the audience surrogate in these moments, curious but looking from the outside, trying to make sense of this infamous woman. However, as the film progresses, his getting closer to Holmes and her family puts Fielder in the position of those she's beguiled and impressed before.
Through Fielder and Oppenheim's suffocatingly intimate approach to the cinematography, we're strapped to his hip on the experience. You Can See Everything is shot in a 4:3 aspect ratio, which is like that of an old-school television from the '90s. This concentrates the audience's attention on to a smaller area, more specifically to the claustrophobic close-ups of Fielder, Holmes, Evans, and others. A multi-camera setup in the home means that the speaker and the spoken-to are caught on tape, so that we can see every microexpression, every flinch or twitch. And in that way, we — like Fielder — are forced to look Holmes in her unblinking eyes and determine for ourselves what is truth and what is a lie. And it's not easy.
You Can See Everything is a fabulous mindfuck.
Even after all the internet rumors, the most surprising bit — that's not a spoiler — is that Holmes goes to prison around the halfway point of the nearly three-hour-long movie. After that, Fielder and Oppenheim's access to her becomes extremely limited. So, they begin to use reenactments to continue telling their story. That's a standard documentary tool. But the way they use reenactments introduces a new wrinkle in parsing the reality of Holmes' story. As in The Rehearsal, Fielder brings in an actor to play opposite him to recreate moments the crew couldn't catch on camera. And, similar to The Rehearsal, he has conversations with the actor to get a deeper understanding of the interaction. However, because the original interactions are not recorded, it's only Fielder's memory that they can pull from. Even as they read through his scripts, he questions his own memory. His perspective is challenged repeatedly within the film, with the actor even accusing him of liking Holmes too much to be objective.
This is the core of You Can See Everything that makes it about more than Holmes. Documentaries themselves can never be objective, because they are — as Holmes says — human stories. When the frame is chosen, what is kept in is just as crucial to what is cropped out. When the edit comes together, the moments that are deemed meaningful versus unimportant shape the message. So, while You Can See Everything challenges you to question Holmes and Fielder, it also challenges its audience to think more broadly about documentary and news media. Objectivity is an impossibility. We are creatures of blood and emotion, driven by impulse and a need to protect ourselves from the reality of how we are capable of hurting others.
It's not just Holmes who is questioned on this point in the film. And so, You Can See Everything becomes an interrogation of how we decide what's true. As a movie, it's a hell of an experience. Personally, I gasped, shouted, laughed, and even gagged. But as a work of art, it's one that's sure to live on for its bold choices, interrogation of form, and for Fielder's brave vulnerability in exposing his own doubts and shortcomings.