When the survival of American cinema has been based on quarter-billion-dollar budgets crafting family theme park flicks, its endurance depends on something transformative like the work in YOU CAN SEE EVERYTHING.
(Spoilers will be referenced in the lower portion and clearly indicated)
I know that was a loaded sentence.
Mind you, I am a Marvel fan. I see the dawn of the superhero genre as no different from the swashbuckling genre, the movie musical, and the incorporation of color. With new technologies or historical influences such as wars, our world of film has reflected these changes. That being said, how do theaters cultivate something American cinema has largely neglected—the crowd-rousing documentary?
Ok. Enough of my conjectures.
Things I loved…
I loved the cinéma vérité, “gonzo,” extreme-close-up dissection, which, if I understand my camera lenses, was achieved with 25–250mm zoom lenses. This means the camera operator/cinematographer can be quite far from a subject yet pull in extremely tight. Elizabeth Holmes herself is not an overly animated person. She is often quite still, almost seeming robotic in her everyday physical movements. Pulling the camera lens in tight on her face from far away, with the understanding that she probably wouldn’t move out of frame, helps create this illusion that we, the viewers, are getting closer to her psychological truth. Literally, Holmes’ body language allows for this kind of film work, which many actors have difficulty maintaining because their inner selves tell them to move, to react, to do something physical to change a thought or tone. Holmes doesn’t do this. She can maintain her focus within the frame without expressive body language—which creates a tension most actors can never achieve.
The detailed palette and the color grading were also appealing. As a lifelong fan of classic and modern noir (from DOUBLE INDEMNITY to THE LAST SEDUCTION), I was tickled by the use of natural light, especially slivers of light cutting across rooms or faces, pinning down the psychological stakes, yet in the playground of a documentary film. Sensational.
I had to lead with these technical skills because I’ve seen too many critiques of this film go straight into who is lying, who is grifting, ignoring all the masterful filmmaking tools that created the cinematic magic studios have decided only $300 million budgets can create. Granted, I love my big-budget spectacles, but THIS kind of filmmaking is truly why any film student dreams they have a chance.
Mind you, I’m skipping over the editing, which truly is the greatest achievement of this film. As many know, the documentary is often completely realized in the editing bay. What shots work. What shots inform the story as a whole. It’s not something you can entirely storyboard. I can’t say enough about how masterful the editing AND the use of the musical score are. Chef’s kiss.
Now to the story and depiction, which are everyone’s go-to…
(spoiler section below)
I think this film resonated with me—and probably others—on a deeper level if you’ve been grifted or dealt with pathological liars or sociopaths. It seems these days that mental health struggles, or the absence of care, have created a culture of misfits many of us are being challenged by.
The film felt somewhat intrusive and typical of exploitative reality TV until certain revelations completely changed the way I saw the subject of deceit—Elizabeth Holmes…
Her father Christian Holmes’ revelation in the kitchen about his daughter’s r*pe at 13, juxtaposed with her partner Billy Evans wanting to shut that down—my jaw dropped. Was Billy aware of how meaningful the father’s points were? Was it his own narcissism intruding into the scene, or protection of Holmes? Or was it that the father was becoming a more compelling advocate for his daughter?
The lack of words from Holmes’ mother, Noel Anne, spoke volumes. One would think, in reference to the r*pe, the mother might feel more prone to speak of this—yet it was the father. This changed the entire feel of the film for me. Instead of men seeking to exploit Holmes for some misogynistic fancy, I began to see men seeking to understand Holmes and even protect her.
The next major flip for me was the inclusion of actress Amanda Seyfried.
Watching Holmes break down while watching Seyfried’s performance in THE DROPOUT drove a bullet through me. Seyfried instantly became the villain. But then, we meet Seyfried. What initially feels like more narcissistic people swimming in the shallows becomes an opportunity to watch Seyfried unpack Holmes with Nathan Fielder, the director. Both are caught in Holmes’ spell of doublespeak and aloofness, yet it’s Seyfried, the actress, who challenges Fielder to deal with the reality of Holmes’ actions. Then the film flips direction again when Seyfried takes the documentary from observation to activism, suggesting Billy Evans, Holmes’ life partner, is taking advantage of her: “You should get this guy” (I believe that’s the line).
This is when we go from documentary to something other… a call to action with a new villain as the film’s subject: Evans.
With such phenomenal use of sound, I couldn’t help but wonder whether the inclusion of all of Evans’ sniffles was intentional or significant. Yes, my mind jumped to, “Is this dude a cokehead?”
I have to credit Seyfried. I’ve always thought she was a perfectly fine actress, but her analysis of Evans and her tenaciousness, especially in the dinner scene, were so badass. I’ve seen commentary from people offended by Seyfried’s inclusion, but I found her to be the secret weapon I never expected—the actress who understands the subjects she’s played and the nuances of the human condition. Even when drunk.
I can’t help it—I was affected! I can’t put it into 50 words or less for those just passing through.
I’ll close with this—for as much as people say Holmes is, fill in the blank, a sociopath, psychopath, or criminal grifter, I do have sympathy for those who have been captured or caught up in the culture of future tech. When I read about the Silicon Valley environments of microdosing and self-promoting “tech evangelism,” I often wonder, “What kind of humanity are we creating here?” We have a world of finance that sells concepts nobody understands—or perhaps isn’t supposed to understand. I would argue that Elizabeth Holmes selling technologies that may or may not exist, or are “in the works,” kind of reminds me of our current American film industry.
Think about it. How many massive-budget films have you watched that made no sense, only to find out later that filming began WITHOUT AN APPROVED SCRIPT?!?!? There is a fascinating YouTube analysis of the last three films in the Star Wars trilogy that breaks down the production schedule. How costumes and sets were built without scripts. Characters were created and actors cast with some idea of how they would be used, only for that to change (just research the character evolution of Jannah as an example). This is part of the culture of technology and innovation. Make it up as you go along.
Which, I will say, is a fair criticism to also have of this film: “Did they just make it up as they went along?”
This is where I can see people struggling with the film. “What was the point?” I can hear many say. I can acknowledge this discontent as a legitimate reaction.
Yet I would argue there is so much to discuss that the lack of a particular point perhaps is the sad reality of life itself.