You Can See Everything — Review

Nathan Fielder is a fucking genius.

Coming off The Rehearsal, Fielder delivers what might very well be his magnum opus with You Can See Everything, an extraordinary, thought-provoking, surreal, and deeply unsettling piece of filmmaking that kept me glued to the screen for nearly three hours. This is easily one of the best films of the year, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it becomes a major awards contender, particularly in the Best Documentary category.

The film follows Elizabeth Holmes in the days leading up to her imprisonment following the collapse of Theranos, the company she founded with the promise of revolutionizing blood testing by performing numerous tests using just a single drop of blood. Holmes maintains that she did nothing wrong, and Fielder attempts to get to the bottom of what really happened by embedding himself in her home life, observing her relationship with her partner, Billy, and their two children. What begins as an attempt to understand one of the most infamous figures in recent corporate history gradually spirals into something far stranger, more intimate, and more psychologically complex than you could possibly imagine.

At the center of the film is the relationship between Elizabeth and Billy, which at times feels so fabricated that you almost have to question whether you’re watching two people performing a role. And then, in other moments, particularly when they’re together as a family, you see what appears to be genuine love. It’s a fascinating, deeply uncomfortable contradiction. Billy increasingly emerges as a potentially manipulative figure, particularly as questions arise about his power of attorney, his control over Elizabeth’s public voice, and the things he may be doing behind the scenes without her knowledge. But how much can we actually trust what we’re seeing? Is Elizabeth a master manipulator herself? Is she being manipulated by the people closest to her? Was she thrown under the bus by the people who once stood beside her? And could the truth be considerably more complicated than the story we’ve been told?

That’s what makes this documentary so remarkable. Fielder isn’t simply interested in revisiting the Theranos scandal. He’s interested in the nature of truth itself, the ways people manipulate one another, the dynamics of toxic and one-sided relationships, and the lengths people will go to for love, power, and self-preservation. The film also touches on Elizabeth’s traumatic past and her previous long-term relationship, adding further layers to an already complicated portrait of a woman whose life seems almost impossible to fully understand.

And then there’s Amanda Seyfried, who joins Fielder for a series of reenactments after Elizabeth is no longer available to participate. Seyfried, who portrayed Holmes in The Dropout, is absolutely remarkable here. She’s fantastic in the reenactments, but what makes her presence so surprising and effective is watching her step outside that role and become an active participant in Fielder’s attempts to understand this bizarre situation. Her performance and contributions are terrific, and she adds another fascinating dimension to the film.

Fielder himself is outstanding. His signature awkward pauses, deadpan delivery, and unconventional sense of humor are all present, but there’s something particularly effective about the way he approaches such sensitive material. He isn’t simply relying on his usual comedic persona. He feels more like an investigative journalist, someone genuinely trying to understand the people in front of him while questioning his own assumptions. There’s a fascinating tension between his desire to uncover the truth and the possibility that he’s being drawn into someone else’s carefully constructed narrative.

And that brings me to the film’s title: You Can See Everything. At one point, Elizabeth sends a text containing that phrase, and it’s a genuinely funny moment. But the title also captures the central paradox of the entire documentary. We can see the footage. We can watch the conversations. We can observe these people in their homes and witness what appear to be their most intimate moments. But are we actually seeing everything? Or are we only seeing what someone wants us to see?

Even when Fielder reconstructs his prison visit through reenactments with Seyfried, the film forces us to consider the limitations of what we know. He describes Elizabeth embracing Billy when he arrives, apparently without any visible fear or resentment. What are we supposed to make of that? Does it suggest genuine love? Does it complicate the possibility that their relationship is as toxic as it sometimes appears? Or are we, once again, trying to interpret a relationship from fragments of information that can never tell the whole story?

The documentary constantly makes you question the footage, the people presenting it, and even Fielder himself. Is he manipulating us through the material he’s chosen to include? Are Elizabeth and Billy attempting to manipulate him? Is everyone telling the truth, or is everyone telling a version of the truth that serves their own interests? And if we’re only ever seeing carefully selected pieces of somebody else’s life, how can we possibly know what really happened?

What I appreciated most is that the film doesn’t necessarily provide the answers you’d expect. That isn’t frustrating so much as it is fascinating. Elizabeth Holmes is an incredibly complicated person, and Fielder allows that complexity to exist without reducing everything to a simple story about a villain or a victim. The film raises uncomfortable questions about the media, public perception, and the way narratives are constructed around people. Once the world decides who somebody is, is there any room left for a more complicated truth?

Nearly three hours fly by because there’s always another question, another strange turn, or another moment that forces you to reconsider what you’ve just watched. It’s funny, unsettling, heartbreaking, and completely absorbing.

You Can See Everything is an extraordinary piece of filmmaking. Nathan Fielder is operating at an incredibly high level here, and this is the kind of documentary that stays with you long after the credits roll. It’s not just about Elizabeth Holmes or Theranos. It’s about manipulation, love, deception, storytelling, and our desperate need to believe that we can distinguish the truth from a lie.

I’m not sure we ever get all the answers. And maybe that’s precisely the point.

You Can See Everything = 96/100