About a third of the way through “You Can See Everything,” Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim’s new documentary about Elizabeth Holmes, viewers watch the disgraced Theranos founder and convicted fraudster pose for more than 200 cameras. In the days leading up to her 2023 federal prison reporting date, Holmes had her likeness captured and scanned to allow video, hologram, and artificial intelligence reproductions while she serves time. The capture serves a dual purpose as a business move, enabling her and partner William “Billy” Evans—with whom she shares two children—to utilize a programmable version of Holmes for pitches in launching their new healthcare startup, dubbed Theranos 2.0. Despite the strategic utility, Holmes is shown sobbing and explaining that putting her image outward has caused past pain, stating she has a complicated history with being on camera. Fielder is a refreshingly candid guide through this strange land. But also feels entirely appropriate for a film that has rewritten the rules of documentaries as we know them, it’s a stunning reversal of roles to capture on camera.
Pre-release buzz for the secretly produced movie, which was announced via a surprise trailer last month, has drawn massive attention. Critics privy to early screenings have labeled it the movie of the year and raised the prospect of an unprecedented best picture Oscar nomination for a documentary. As the film opens in US theaters on Friday, audiences can finally evaluate the project. Co-directed by Fielder and Oppenheim—whose previous project “Primetime” dropped under the A24 banner last month—the feature combines visual grandeur with intentional ugliness through extreme close-ups showcasing sweat, wrinkles, and blemishes on both Fielder and Holmes.
The production offers unprecedented access to Holmes and her family right before her incarceration, featuring intimate moments such as Evans showering nude alongside staggering creative decisions. Fielder navigates the project through a persistent quest for truth, comparing Holmes to a magician and wondering if she ranks among history’s most manipulative figures. Fielder’s background across shows like “Nathan for You” and “The Rehearsal” establishes a pattern of obsession with elaborate schemes, awkwardness, and meta-narratives, positioning him as an alien investigator of human behavior. In these programs, Fielder plays both the straight man and the chaos agent, often appearing like an alien in human disguise sent to study our most inexplicable behavior, even if it means meddling in things himself. As if she knows the Herculean task he has ahead of him in trying to make sense of her, it’s she who is encouraging him.
Throughout the film, Holmes presents myriad versions of herself, prompting Fielder and the audience to evaluate whether they are being deceived. Speculation surrounds her character: whether she is merely eccentric as Evans claims, a victim of male influence as her father suggests, someone on the autism spectrum unable to gauge perceptions as indicated by a sequence involving the Abbott and Costello “Who’s On First” sketch, or simply a compulsive liar. Addressing the uncertainty, Holmes remarks in the film that the world believes an untrue reality about her, leaving the true nature of her character ambiguous. If Fielder is again playing a version of himself here, Holmes seems to be offering near infinite versions of herself up for examination, like a set of unblinking reflections in a hall of funhouse mirrors.
The production frequently exposes its own artifice by displaying crew members and boom mics, deliberately blending factual documentary elements with theatrical recreation. Halfway through the project, a tightly guarded surprise participant emerges as both co-subject and co-documentarian, observing that they are operating within fictional territory. Fielder maintains transparency regarding his own insecurities, questioning whether his lack of scientific expertise makes him vulnerable and raising concerns that he may have grown too close to his subject. Observers suggest parallels between Holmes’ dynamic with Evans and her relationship with Fielder. A surprise person appears halfway through the movie — one being kept a closely guarded secret from audiences and which we won’t spoil here — but whose presence transforms it entirely, emerging as both co-documentarian an. Rarely, if ever, has a documentarian and subject been so perfectly matched. It’s a question that hovers over the entire production and one that isn’t easily answered.
Upon reaching the final moments before Holmes reports to a federal prison in Texas, Fielder introduces his signature awkwardness by suggesting he leave Holmes and Evans alone for intimacy, asking about the experience afterward, and presenting her parents with a gag gift of hair dye and sunglasses for potential evasion. In a final exchange before she departs in a car, the two share a lingering, awkward gaze before Holmes encourages Fielder with the words, “You’ve got this,” marking a stunning role reversal as she buoys the documentarian tasked with making sense of her story.
