‘You Can See Everything’ Review: Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim’s Elizabeth Holmes Documentary Is Boundary-Pushing and Absurd

Elizabeth Holmes’ name has devolved into being synonymous with scam artist. For the first time since her public takedown over her supposedly revolutionary blood-testing startup Theranos, she attempts to reclaim the narrative by welcoming directors Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim into her home. Just 34 days before her 11-year prison sentence, a small film crew begins documenting Holmes and her family’s day-to-day life starting in 2023. Almost immediately, it’s evident that “You Can See Everything” pushes the boundaries of documentary filmmaking, and somehow, even after 174 minutes, it leaves us hungry and curious for more. What we see is more opaque than the title suggests. Fielder and Oppenheim admit they didn’t exactly know what they were embarking on when they first conceived the idea at a magic show. This lack of a plan lets the narrative drive and develop itself, and it ultimately benefits the documentary. Fielder makes it clear that he’s done extensive research, but rather than a premeditated, prescribed thesis, “You Can See Everything” exhibits the power of repetitive reflection. While Holmes is the original focus, her husband, Billy Evans, becomes an increasingly overbearing presence. Their unsettling dynamic surfaces early on. One morning, while Holmes slowly whisks eggs, Evans snatches the whisk away from her to do it the “right way.” Fielder immediately questions his actions, and Evans naturally brushes it off as wanting to help her. This direct, unabashed willingness to ask awkward and hard questions amplifies Fielder’s success as a documentarian; his investigative role was not anticipated, yet it is essential to what unfolds. As Holmes and Evans include Fielder more frequently in their conversations, the camera’s framing is forced to center him more and more. The line between director and subject is murky in a way that positions the audience to be as critical as Fielder is. We are collectively trying to decipher the truth while it buries itself in the manipulation of the main characters. As Holmes’ prison appointment approaches, Fielder takes a pass at piecing together her perspective on her crimes. She is captured crying on camera a handful of times, eliciting uncertain, unwilling empathy. “What’s your definition of a lie?” he asks. In asking such a simple, clarifying question, the documentary unveils the peculiar power of language. This particular segment also reshapes our perception of the title, making it a bit cheekier and clever. A woman like Holmes is smart enough to play dumb and find loopholes, and, like Fielder and the rest of the crew, our ability to parse through her potentially manipulative demeanor breaks down. Notably, when Fielder shows her the famous Abbott and Costello segment, “Who’s On First?” she supposedly cannot comprehend exactly why it’s funny. Fielder and the audience are even more perplexed about her act versus authenticity. On the day Holmes enters the federal prison in Bryan, Texas, the film reframes its focus and access. Every slow zoom toward Evans generates more tension and disdain for his involvement in the movie, and more broadly, Holmes’ life. After a two-year time jump, the film introduces a surprise subject who takes on a dual role of driving the narrative and playing Holmes in recreated scenes. The film really starts to speculate more than it asserts. The looming ambiguity of every moment is not typical for a documentary. Although recreating and aestheticizing elements of a true story isn’t novel, the casting choice completes the comedic yet concerning authenticity they aim to create. Fielder and Oppenheim shrewdly invite people to tell on themselves by sitting in the silence subjects often fill unprompted. While they do their best to uphold logic and facts, the personalities and opinions of each subject, including Fielder, are eye-widening and staggeringly honest. Evans’ true colors and motive, which shine brightest after Holmes is in prison, are so jarring and frightening. At times, it seems he forgets everything is being recorded. Yet he’s simultaneously aware of exactly when to cut the cameras any time the story goes somewhere that doesn’t fit into the future he’s trying to create for him and Holmes. For how disquieting it is, the film never goes too long without forcing a laugh. Fielder’s side-eye, always directed at Evans, gives viewers insight into his position, while Oppenheim’s expertise in feature narrative and documentary filmmaking elevates the film’s craft. Together, the duo keeps us on the edge of our seats, glued to the screen. Grade: A “You Can See Everything” premiered at the 2026 Telluride Film Festival. A24 will release it in theaters this October.