This opinion piece contains spoilers for the movie “You Can See Everything.”
When I bought tickets for Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim’s new documentary, “You Can See Everything,” I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew little about the Theranos scandal, but something about Elizabeth Holmes’ piercing stare and uncanny expression hypnotized me, so off to the theater I went. Three hours later, I stumbled out of the AMC theater and into the Glendale Galleria, feeling dazed as I pondered what I had just watched. I then rated it five stars on my Letterboxd account.
I came to realize that while the reviews were positive, there were numerous critics who disliked the documentary. “When it comes to Holmes, nothing new or interesting is learned about her,” one critic said. “Mere cleverness and snark from true depth of perception,” said another. Scrolling through social media a few days later, I noticed that many people had the same opinion. To them, the movie revealed nothing and instead glorified a white-collar criminal. I disagree. Those who think the film didn’t produce anything substantial simply didn’t look hard enough — no pun intended.
On the surface, the film felt incredibly frustrating, as I watched Billy Evans, Holmes’ partner, repeatedly shut the interviews down as soon as Fielder began to approach more treacherous topics. Evans went so far as to walk in on interviews from the other room and order Fielder to turn the cameras off. Holmes’ demeanor also offers a shroud of mystery that never quite clears. One question constantly hangs over the audience: is she being genuine, or is this all an act? Her messy hair, clips of her tending to her two children and her tight, curled-in posture with a doe-eyed expression portray her as a victim of circumstance, a simple misunderstanding that led to her 10-year sentence in federal prison. Even Fielder himself couldn’t figure her out, admitting in an interview that he had to remind himself that she was a liar because of her perceived authenticity.
There’s no solid conclusion to the film, no straight answer given as to why Holmes did what she did or if she’s aware of Evans’ controlling nature. To those who are used to a polished ending, this might feel disappointingly incomplete. But films, particularly documentaries, aren’t supposed to spoon-feed you answers. Two sides of Holmes are presented: a narcissistic liar, and a loving, misunderstood mother. Whether you believe her or not, the actual answer isn’t going to be tied in a nice bow.
The answers to the questions surrounding the film are complicated and nuanced. Some see Holmes as either a villain or a victim, but not both. Holmes is a master manipulator, but has also been manipulated by many men in her life. When Fielder alerts her of Evans’ erratic behavior regarding her likeness, such as the revelation that he has been impersonating her on Twitter without her knowledge, it seems as if she’s okay with it. They’re in an endless exploitative loop with each other, and neither appears to mind.
Feeling confused and bewildered might have turned some people off of the film, but those feelings are the point. You’re supposed to leave knowing less about Holmes than you did walking in, to wrestle with bigger issues. In reality, we’ll never know her motivations or desires. Holmes is so disillusioned from reality that I don’t think she knows, either.
The film speaks to the larger themes of truth and deceit — how subjectivity and the narrative created around a particular story shapes our perceptions of those involved. Fielder is inserting himself into the documentary by entering his subjects’ homes; unlike most documentaries, he’s a subject too. Some would call this film heavily biased because of this, but that was part of the film’s purpose: to examine how Fielder’s biases affect the outcome of the documentary. Perhaps the point wasn’t to determine if Holmes was truly guilty or not, but to examine objectivity surrounding the concept of the truth.
Amanda Seyfried’s involvement in the second half of the movie and Fielder’s increasing entanglement in Holmes’ affairs presents a larger discussion of objectivity as it relates to actuality. The last scene of the movie involves Seyfried asking Fielder if he left anything out when he recounts his prison visits with Holmes. He doesn’t really answer the question, leaving the film on an uneasy note as we consider the possibility that the filmmaker himself has deceived us in a documentary about liars. We discover the power that money, media and boundaries have when searching for truth.
These revelations have the power to change documentary theory and investigative journalism. How the filmmaker interacts with their subjects is a complicated relationship that Fielder unpacks throughout Holmes’ outrageous claims and Evans’ numerous ethical violations. We leave wondering about our own proximity to honesty and the limits of its portrayal through media formats. This, I think, is the ultimate reveal of “You Can See Everything”: Is it really true that we can?
Contact Avett Proctor at aproctor@oxy.edu.
