*SPOILER WARNING* This article contains spoilers for You Can See Everything.
Somewhere around 15 minutes into You Can See Everything, I was hooked for the first time, utterly hypnotized by what Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim were able to pull off with this documentary. It was when Fielder probed Elizabeth Holmes’ husband, Billy Evans, about the origins of their romantic relationship. In a movie full of standout scenes and dramatic moments, it’s an easy one to forget, but I think it perfectly encapsulates the core premise of the film. The extreme close-ups turn an interview into an interrogation. Fielder’s questioning reveals a more real side of the comedian than we typically see. He makes blunt inquiries toward Evans, not because he’s trying to shepherd the scenario into becoming a comedic bit, but because the bit is standing in front of him — it’s the man who chose to marry an infamous scam artist (to put it lightly), who’s now requested a documentary crew follow their every move.
The stage is already set for Fielder. All he can do is parse through the variables, searching for some semblance of truth and humanity in the midst of nothing but subjective hearsay. Why did Evans want to be with Holmes? At what point did he know? Was it within a few minutes or within an hour? Does that make a difference? Does he truly remember that now? Could he be lying about any of this?
Elizabeth Holmes: Subject to Questioning
Why do these questions, Fielder’s behavior in pressing, and even the way the interview is shot, matter? Because You Can See Everything isn’t about Elizabeth Holmes, even if she was initially intended to be the subject. It’s about the balance between documentation and dramatization, truth and perception, lie and performance. Holmes is merely a conduit for this. It’s all too easy to walk out of the theater arriving at a conclusion like, “So Elizabeth Holmes is exactly who I thought she is.” Maybe even, “I didn’t expect to feel empathy towards her.” If you open Twitter (as Fielder still calls the site, sorry Elon) right now, you’ll find dozens of posts written as such, followed by the most vitriolic replies arguing whether Holmes is a horrible person or not.
But that’s missing the forest for the trees; As Holmes herself said, she wanted this documentary to be a human story, not one that litigates the science of Theranos’ technology. And as a human story, one observed through a subjective lens, about two people who each view their own lives through a subjective lens, who each have their own memory, morality, and communicative ability, it simply cannot arrive at an objective answer. Nathan Fielder cannot, with certainty, tell you if Elizabeth Holmes is a manipulative person, from his experience alone. He can simply follow the process as he sees fit, and attempt to hold journalistic integrity throughout. But in doing so, that is what the movie becomes about. Gaps in memory. Bias in relationships. Failure to keep neutrality. It’s about that journey, not the destination of drawing a true conclusion on Holmes’ character.
There becomes a point at which you can’t see everything — even Fielder can’t. Holmes checks into the prison, years go by, and Fielder can’t get cameras in to follow up with her. He keeps contact with Evans, which just further ostracizes us from any objective fact. Is Evans’ word on everything rooted in truth? Does anything he says or does now originate from her? If it does, is it now twisted by him? And if it doesn’t, would she want him to speak for her? Does she even know? It puts Fielder in a tricky spot, because although Holmes’ word is not objective truth, the ability to at least analyze it is the most valuable asset in a documentary about her. So to now only have the word of her spouse, who very well may be making statements on her behalf without her knowledge, not only makes that asset missed that much more, but increases its value tenfold. It matters more than ever, but remains as far out of reach as it can possibly be. That’s why Fielder makes the bold choice to pivot the documentary’s perspective, bringing Amanda Seyfried into the mix.
Manipulator or Manipulated?
Seyfried is quite possibly the most complex aspect of You Can See Everything, in that she inhabits multiple roles. At a basic level, she operates as an audience surrogate; When presented with the footage so far, she has questions which naturally beg to be shaped into conclusions. But she ultimately plays two much bigger parts: Amanda Seyfried the actor — She knows Holmes through prescribed research, with explicit boundaries of no contact, in order to perform a dramatized version of her for TV. And Amanda Seyfried the investigator — She takes on an emotional and moral stake in Holmes’ life and involves herself as an active participant in documentation.
Each of these parts have their own way into who Holmes is, and their own distance from and understanding of her. But including and encouraging each of these pieces of Seyfried in the documentary creates a constantly evolving and growing paradox. While the lines begin to blur more surrounding the question of whether Holmes is manipulator or manipulated, Fielder essentially makes Seyfried a lab rat in a parallel issue, which leads to himself being placed in the crosshairs as well.
Seyfried defends her role in The Dropout and the purpose of the program as fictional TV, using its proximity from reality as justification. But shortly after this defense, she becomes personally involved in solving whether Holmes is being taken advantage of by Evans, by offering to meet with him. The very distance which was once a convenient buffer between herself and reality is gone, in favor of a new motive. Was it a true reason, or an excuse? Is she compensating for some sort of guilt for her indirect role in Holmes’ public perception? Most fascinating of all isn’t this one leap between realities… It’s that she continues to shift back and forth. She digs into Holmes’ life, questioning her reality, but then, as an actor, portrays a false one yet again… and again. She searches too closely for an objective truth she won’t find, and then distances herself to present a recreation of one as an actor.
She’s not wrong for feeling worried about Holmes as a human being, nor is she wrong for pursuing a career in which she portrays fictionalized versions of real people. But playing both of these sides, while pushing the boundaries in each, looks dissonant on screen. Getting close enough to Holmes’ family to the point she becomes a character in their drama, while also playing Holmes as a character based on Fielder’s accounts, feels shockingly inhuman.
Real Eyes Realize Real Lies
That brings us to how these themes of manipulation and perception are quite thoroughly applied to the entirety of the film. Even when Fielder is at the mercy of others’ words and actions, he (and Oppenheim) still choose how they’re shown, and what step next to take. As mentioned earlier, it’s in things as simple as how You Can See Everything is shot and edited. They’re intentional in applying a tense claustrophobia to the way interviews are framed. The way Fielder positions himself silently watching Holmes’ family feels wary and judging. And the choice to pull Seyfried into the film creates new ethical issues. The reality is, Holmes can behave as innocent as she wants. Evans can say the most heinous, self-serving things. And Seyfried can explore someone else’s life in invasive ways. But while there’s truth to be found in each, at the end of the day, it’s all shown through Fielder’s lens… literally. He gets to choose whether he breaks the rules. He gets to choose whether he should get close enough to care about Holmes. He gets to choose what to show, what to omit, and how to reveal any of it. And its his own unreliable memory and integrity that serves as the foundation for the last act of the film.
In one of his recreations with Seyfried, Fielder uses an analogy where he compares Holmes’ behavior to that of a magic trick performed by David Blaine – one where he seemingly stabs an ice pick into his hand, which Fielder theorizes he is actually doing, and just playing off as trickery. I found this incredibly apt on another level, because it applies to Fielder as well. I have often seen Fielder as a magician, blending fiction and reality in ways that the audience can rarely agree on. It’s the most iconic hallmark of his work, as seen in HBO’s The Rehearsal. Lines are blurred between real people and actors, and Fielder plays an exaggerated version of himself. He knows how to play up the emotions of himself and others for the sake of the bit. It’s good TV. But here, in You Can See Everything, there’s a contrast. Fielder is himself. He instigates primarily to understand human behavior, not purely to create a story. He’s real. He’s stabbing the metaphorical ice pick through his hand. But even then, there’s a bit of flourish and trickery in how that’s presented. It’s real. It’s fake. It’s truth. It’s unreliable. You can see everything. You just may not understand it all.
You Can See Everything is now playing in theaters. Check out the trailer below:
