Few moments in documentary filmmaking’s history remain as notorious as the Disney release White Wilderness (1958). As the years went on, audiences became fixated on a scene in which lemmings are seen plunging off of a cliff committing what was believed to be mass suicide. This became so intertwined with the media landscape that it turned lemmings into a slang term for mindless followers before being developed into a popular 1991 video game. It is likely that if somebody knows of lemmings, it’s through this context and not any other habitational detail. Sure, it may be alarming and puzzling, but something more important to consider is that Disney, for all of their alleged dedications to professionalism, staged the scene. And yet the damage is done. Decades of misinterpretation have harmed one species’ reputation to those who will never encounter one in the wild.
Most people take the documentary format for granted. There is a belief that just because the subject in front of the camera is real, everything else follows. It is true that most are made in search of objective truth, yet even the most celebrated can’t help but be somewhat subjective. It comes even as things as simple as where D.A. Pennebaker, during the Bob Dylan doc Don’t Look Back (1967), places the camera or what b-roll gets incorporated into the final edit. The viewer may get a cohesive story, but it’s rare that they’re getting the full experience. In one scene, Dylan seems to offer a genuine interview, while in the next he’s being rude and evasive. Which side is truth? Is the subject being taken out of context? Again, there is belief that professionalism will prevail, but even still… how could Pennebaker, an otherwise pacifist eye, not slip up once in a while and give into pure objectivism when the subject’s goal is to remain enigmatic?
The push and pull has been in the subtext of the medium for nearly a century now and is often discussed outside of the frame. It may be the reason that You Can See Everything (2026) has been hailed as revolutionary, breaking down transgressive barriers in order to make sense of something that is inherently subjective. The trial of Theranos founder Elizabeth Holmes has remained popular tabloid fodder for a reason. More than the products she sold, her personality has bothered some, including co-director Nathan Fielder. When offered the chance to get close to Holmes and her partner Billy Evans, he moves in and begins to search for the shred of truth that could change his skepticism under the belief of full transparency. Depending on what baggage the audience brings to the theater, that may prove to be a big fat lie.
To most, Holmes seems artificial. Her voice is too controlled. The language is too calculated. It’s the biological version of the uncanny valley, and the perfect target for an era when people are forced to build public images that may present their best selves, even if they flub a few things. When America has a president that can’t go a conference without raising suspicion, attacking Holmes plays like catharsis, where we can finally deconstruct a billionaire and know who they truly are. The camera zooms in during interviews, allowing every eye twitch and lip curl to not be overshadowed by big picture theatrics. It’s the type of approach that feels like it’s getting somewhere deeper, though have these people mastered the sales pitch at gunpoint? Are they so confident that no level of interrogation could break them? Maybe there’s a con job to manipulate public perception that Fielder, as an outsider, is unaware of.
This essay is not a breakdown of the various theories of what this documentary means. If anything, it’s a celebration of the labyrinthine construction that Fielder and Lance Oppenheim have built. The story may be sold on breaking some greater truth about Holmes, but that is far from what should be taken away. For starters, You Can See Everything’s biggest triumph is how much of the framework feels like it’s flying by the seat of its pants. Fielder may have perfected the gotcha technique over a decade ago on Nathan For You, but Holmes feels like the perfect antagonist who won’t fall for his shenanigans. If there’s a difference, Fielder’s interrogation has a subtextual affection to understand Holmes’ circumstance, which only grows more confounding in the second half when his stay with Holmes and Evans ends, leaving evidence that the average viewer might think looks suspicious, but lacks the easy answer.
The film’s two halves reflect the different sides of documentary filmmaking in ways that should be studied in school. Act I is a study on objectivity. Fielder may be bringing his own assumptions to the mix, but he’s still open to leading interviews into topics that might provide clues for later. Somewhere in the long takes of Holmes and Evans trying to appear normal on camera finds them reflecting mundane examples of couple dynamics. Things as simple as whisking eggs or watching the fictional version of Holmes in The Dropout find Fielder looking for something visceral that can’t be hidden behind the façade. The average viewer can’t help but read into these exchanges, believing that something sincere is on the verge of appearing.
Much like the lemmings or Bob Dylan, the nature of objectivity is brought into question with these decisions. Are we seeing something genuine or manufactured? Is Fielder working off of instinct, or is there his own fabrication coming through to manipulate his reality? It’s clear everyone is somewhat at odds with their environment, but who is going to come out looking best? This is less a study of literal details that Holmes’ trials have expressed better and more an attempt to appreciate the emotional drive of someone’s humanity. More than corruption, the viewer may come away sympathetic to the subject, believing implicit details that make Holmes either a genius manipulator or victim.
Pulling back the curtain, Act II shifts to subjectivity with deliberate intentions. Holmes is in jail, and Fielder must process the information. Even if Act I could be considered highly entertaining on top of painfully ambiguous, it’s no match for the closing stretch. It’s where the pieces start to be put together only to reveal that, without access to his subject, Fielder must make some serious assumptions. This is the section where viewers arguing that this is a shocking documentary are likely referencing. It’s about breaking down the story told in the first half before recognizing that there’s so much more going on. As the title suggests, everything was in plain sight this whole time.
How can someone be objective with a figure like Elizabeth Holmes when the media has shaped perception long before Fielder got to her? Even the presence of The Dropout suggests that there are people who don’t even know her from news reports. A point refuted early on is whether Holmes says that people think she’s “playing a character” that we or they “created.” This simple piece of semantics leads to skepticism that drives Fielder crazy. He attempts to make sense of transcripts and even his own memory, unsure if he’s remembering the small inflections that could communicate a world of difference.
It is here that the creative side of Fielder comes out as he builds recreations and scripts with intentionally farcical settings. He’s looking for something deeper, but maybe he’s just become obsessed to the point of paranoia. Is Holmes the villain in this story? Maybe, in the truest thesis, he’s grown so attached to understanding the criminology that he’s formed a deeper affection for her story, whether honest or not. Has he become subjective even within his original objective goal? How does anyone judge anyone’s character without giving in to bias eventually? Everyone likes to believe they’re above the hypnotic power, but sometimes humanity’s need for empathy and rationalizing the unknown is greater than living forever in skepticism.
Most stories ending with giant question marks are frustrating. When most try to be ambiguous, they can feel lazy or lacking enough curiosity to find answers. However, Fielder and Oppenheim have done the unthinkable. Even as they’ve divulged as much information as they can, something doesn’t feel right. Uncertainty flourishes as the audience leaves. What was the bigger point of this exercise? The reason You Can See Everything is a masterpiece is that it’s less about logic and more about emotional intelligence, exploring the ways that people divide themselves both intentionally and by accident. This story may be specific to Holmes, but it reflects a larger relationship to the parasocial and economic boundaries that come with innovators and their consumers. This is less meant to demonize Holmes and more to make sense of the things that even Fielder probably knew you couldn’t really get.
Yet he must try. Much like Oppenheim’s other Fall release, Primetime (2026), this is a story of mankind trying to right the wrongs of society through vigilante justice. Both are manipulated in some form by Oppenheim as he tries to find the circumstances that motivate his targets. Is the justice that follows worth the shady measures to get there? In a move that might shock some, You Can See Everything is more effective at communicating media’s impact on how we see each other and judge off hearsay. Is going past the headlines going to make a lick of difference?
If there’s a difference between this and White Wilderness, it’s that Fielder never has his lemmings moment. He is never overpowering his subject into public humiliation. There may be a lot everyone will talk about until the story runs its course, but the aspect that will appeal to newcomers long after Holmes has faded into irrelevancy is the same thing that makes the best documentaries fascinating. It’s the ambiguous lines between objectivity and subjectivity, where society is distancing itself from greater transparency. These are people who are very real, but that doesn’t mean the behaviors on screen are genuine. Is that for self-preservation or a greater lack of self-awareness? Instead of answering that here, it’s best to go see it and reach a conclusion on your own. It’s doubtful that two people will have the same rationality, and that’s the ultimate achievement found here.
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