I went to see You Can See Everything, directed by Lance Oppenheim and Nathan Fielder, last Saturday and I was blown away. I went in, unsure of what to expect from the documentary and left the theater even more unsure of what I had just watched. I was familiar with Nathan’s work from Nathan for You and had seen an episode of The Rehearsal (which following the movie I watched more of). So I knew his usual style of work, which is cerebral, to describe it succinctly. I also had seen Lance’s film Primetime last month, which was an introduction to his work.
You Can See Everything synthesizes those two styles. Nathan’s, which plays on reality tropes such as The Profit, starring Marcus Lemonis, and also shows like MTV’s Made, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, and other shows of the like, to go deeper than those references and delve into character studies and meta commentary. Lance’s work, which I have less exposure to, from what I’ve seen, has a high level of realism contrasted with subtle comedy derived from observations on real-life scenarios. What we get from these two sources combining is a film that, as many have already said (so no, I didn’t originate this idea), is a commentary on modern life and questioning what is real?
The documentary follows Elizabeth Holmes, the former Theranos founder convicted of defrauding investors, as Nathan attempts to understand someone whose public identity was built around a vision that turned out to be far removed from reality. But what makes this film so interesting is that eventually it begins questioning not only Elizabeth, but Nathan and the documentary itself. Before filming even began, the production had already agreed to something we’re told isn’t traditional in documentaries. Billy Evans, Elizabeth’s partner, wanted financial compensation for participating, and although Nathan objected, A24 eventually agreed to give him a share of the film’s profits. Evans reportedly later relinquished his rights to that compensation, but the initial agreement still raises an interesting question: If you have to compromise on your principles to gain access to a subject, how does that affect the work you’re creating?
One of the most interesting moments comes when Nathan reveals a conversation he had with Elizabeth before he was able to begin filming. Because the conversation wasn’t recorded, he recreates it through a reenactment, revealing information we hadn’t been shown until that point. Later, Amanda Seyfried questions Nathan about whether he’s omitted anything or is hiding something to protect Elizabeth. It made me wonder what Amanda had seen that we hadn’t. Maybe there was something Nathan left out that would’ve provided context for her suspicion. As the audience, we’re left questioning not only what Nathan is showing us, but what he might not be showing us, and how that missing information could change our understanding of everything we’ve already seen. What’s interesting isn’t necessarily whether Nathan is lying, but how much our understanding of what happened depends on what he decides to show us and when he decides to show it.
And even when we’re shown something that actually happened, how much context are we missing? Outside of the film, Theranos whistleblower Tyler Shultz criticized the documentary, arguing that the machine Elizabeth showed Nathan wasn’t the same machine involved in the testing practices at the center of the Theranos scandal. According to Shultz, the machine shown was an unfinished future version, rather than the Edison device used on patients. If his criticism is accurate, it changes how we understand what we’re seeing, even though the footage itself may be completely authentic.
Something can be real and still be misleading.
Especially in an era where AI is progressing at a speed where even the most tech-savvy have to question everything they see. I’d like to focus on how this specifically relates to art and media, which are spaces I most frequently navigate. How do you know I wrote this article or if this is the product of one or many LLMs? Maybe you can tell that a human wrote this and this is not just some script produced by a program, but do you know the extent to which AI assisted in editing or structuring this article? The answer is no, and no one can know for sure just by reading it, because as this film shows, you can only see as much as you are shown. You don’t see the behind the scenes of creation, which may be omitted or, as in the documentary, restaged.
In fact, this very article began as something I wrote by hand after seeing the film, before being edited and restructured with the assistance of AI. How much of what you’re reading is my original writing, and how much has been shaped by that process? Unless I show you, how would you know? And I think that’s part of what makes this moment in art and media so interesting. We’re living in a time where the ability to create and distribute information has expanded tremendously, but so has the ability to manipulate how that information is received.
Which leads me to my last point: Who is the authority on truth when the social media company named after that virtue is used to spread false information, or when someone who is known for lying can look you in your eyes and say they can’t recall ever telling one? The answer is I’m not sure, and that feeling of uncertainty about what’s real vs. fake is what makes this film so compelling. Because now more than ever, the “radical transparency” we were promised from emerging technologies like blockchain seems to have been overwritten by a culture more focused on controlling narratives and consistently producing content, sometimes at the expense of reality and honesty.
And I think we’re seeing the consequences of this beyond art and media. When people are constantly exposed to conflicting information, manipulated narratives, and public figures whose words don’t always align with their actions, it’s not surprising that trust in government and other institutions begins to deteriorate. It also creates an environment where conspiracy theories can thrive, because when people no longer trust the official explanation, they’re more willing to entertain alternative ones, even without sufficient evidence. The irony is that in trying to question everything, we can end up believing almost anything.
The film itself provides an interesting example of how the conditions surrounding production can influence the work. The decision to offer compensation wasn’t necessarily about producing content consistently, but it demonstrates how the desire to get something made can create pressure to compromise. And in a media culture where creators are encouraged to keep producing and distributing content, I wonder how often those pressures influence what we eventually see. When creating and distributing content becomes the priority, how much time is left to question whether what we’re producing is honest, meaningful, or even worth producing in the first place?
I don’t think the answer is to distrust everything we see. The fact that Nathan includes moments that question his own credibility could just as easily be interpreted as an attempt at transparency. And the fact that a film is edited or a conversation is reenacted doesn’t automatically make it dishonest. But it does make me wonder how much of what we understand about the world comes from what we’ve actually experienced, and how much comes from what someone else has decided to show us. I hope this encourages a shift in our values as a society where maybe we can learn to trust again, because if we don’t, what does that mean for art and media going forward?
