You Can See Everything creates an unusually physical cinema experience. Viewers gasp, whisper, laugh nervously and clutch the person beside them as the documentary moves between fascination and revulsion. Even a participatory Rocky Horror Picture Show screening may struggle to match its shared tension.
Is it the film of the year? It certainly makes a strong case. Whether it fully achieves everything it attempts is less clear, and that uncertainty becomes part of the experience.
A 34-day countdown
The documentary follows Elizabeth Holmes during the 34 days before she must report to prison. Holmes was convicted of defrauding investors through her health technology company, Theranos, and is due to serve an 11-year sentence.
During those final weeks, she allows a documentary team led by Nathan Fielder, known for Nathan for You, and director Lance Oppenheimer to observe her life with her two young children and her partner, Billy Evans, heir to the Evans Hotels business.
The disturbing power of an ordinary breakfast
An early scene about whisking eggs immediately raises questions about control. What appears to be a small domestic exchange becomes a warning that someone else may be shaping Holmes’s decisions, public presentation and relationship with the camera.
The film is presented as an attempt to reveal Holmes’s real personality, but Evans occupies an equally important place in the frame. His apparent influence reaches the questions Holmes answers, the subjects her father can discuss, her public image, her likeness, her X account and even the technique she uses to whisk eggs.
Holmes is a convicted fraudster. Evans, meanwhile, comes across as either deeply disturbing or exceptionally capable of performing a disturbing persona for the camera. The documentary leaves that distinction unresolved.
Authenticity under pressure
For much of the documentary’s nearly three-hour running time, the presence of Holmes’s young children makes the household feel convincingly real. Their voices and interruptions seem impossible to manufacture, while the consequences of the prison sentence remain stark: the children may spend more than a decade of their lives without their mother.
That apparent authenticity repeatedly breaks down as Fielder pursues clear, direct answers. His approach is not a standard courtroom cross-examination. Instead, Holmes and Evans appear to struggle with harmless questions while trying to maintain carefully controlled explanations.
A conversation about the meaning of the word “can” becomes especially revealing. The pair’s definitions and qualifications push the discussion beyond credibility, prompting Fielder to abandon his detached stance and respond with an exasperated, “Liz, come on.”
Why the audience matters
You Can See Everything is best experienced with other people, provided the crowd is not too overwhelming. Nervous laughter, shocked reactions and exchanged glances become part of the film’s effect, much like the shared response to an intense arcade experience.
Watching with someone familiar also offers a useful reality check. At several points, the natural response is to turn to the person beside you and ask whether the people on screen can genuinely be serious. That immediate human reaction is central to the documentary’s impact, rather than a distraction from it.
The film does not provide a neat psychological explanation of Holmes, and it may leave viewers questioning Fielder’s role as well. After spending more than 30 days with his subject, how much distance can a documentarian realistically maintain? For viewers interested in how participation changes an experience, RETROCADE’s arcade videos explore another form of audience engagement.
Its provocative title promises total visibility, but seeing everything does not guarantee believing everything. The documentary ultimately hands that judgement back to the viewer. If the film’s intensity inspires thoughts about recreating communal entertainment at home, RETROCADE’s arcade machine buying guide is a practical place to begin.
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