As the house lights faded away and the first frames of Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim’s “You Can See Everything” filled my vision, I thought I knew exactly what I signed up for. Fielder was not a serious person. He was a comedian by trade, always in character, whether as the unconventional consultant in “Nathan for You” or the enigmatic director of “The Rehearsal.” This film — his feature-length debut, released on Oct. 16 — would surely be his most daring parody yet. I was sold on the idea the moment I saw the infamous trailer, in which a wide-eyed Elizabeth Holmes asserts that she is “always being real.” I thought to myself, “What an incredible actress they found to play her!” The performance seemed uncannily lifelike.
With that in mind, as I settled into my seat in a sold-out Montclair theater, I found myself confused, then shocked, then perturbed, as I realized I was watching the actual Elizabeth Holmes, a very real person with a real partner and real children, living in a real San Diego rental home. I had expected a roller coaster. I didn’t know I wouldn’t be wearing a seatbelt.
If you’re anything like me, you’ve known the name “Theranos” for some time, but not from the company’s heyday. Most of us came to understand the brand through the media produced well after its reputation and finances collapsed. By the time the story reached our eyes and ears, it had been told, retold and sensationalized so many times that it had developed its own mythology. Holmes became the ultimate Icarus archetype in a time when we felt powerless before the gods of Silicon Valley. As we learned of the self-inflicted tragedy brought about by her lies, we became addicted to the sweet taste of catharsis.
It was quite fitting that for those first few minutes, I thought I was watching an actress pretend to be the real Elizabeth Holmes; for many who have seen the film, that feeling never went away. Because really, what did it matter what Holmes said or did if she could just deceive us once again? The thought was always on my mind. But while many people stared into those eyes and saw only deception, I noticed a reflection of the cultural landscape that brought her to life.
In a moment that particularly stuck with me, Holmes disputes a quote from Amy Chozick’s 2023 profile of her in The New York Times. Chozick states that Holmes, in reference to the media dramatizations of her life, said, “They’re not playing me. They’re playing a character I created.” Holmes denies this, and Chozick says the conversation was not recorded. Even assuming her accusation was valid, I found it odd that this specific quote bothered Holmes so much. It seemed rather obvious to me, and indeed to Chozick, that she had adopted a new identity as CEO. The black turtlenecks and deep voice were a not-so-subtle imitation of local legend Steve Jobs, at a time when projecting the strength and legitimacy of the Theranos brand was paramount to the company’s success.
Holmes’ frustration makes more sense when you consider her proposed correction: “They’re playing a character they created.” It’s a point she reiterates throughout the film, especially in reference to the 2022 drama series “The Dropout,” which combines imagined scenes and dialogue with the factual timeline of Holmes’ tenure at Theranos.
In its second act, “You Can See Everything” introduces Amanda Seyfried, who played Holmes in “The Dropout,” as an active participant in the documentary. Seyfried defends the embellishments as artistic license, and even confesses to a fantasy of reprising her role. By her judgment, Holmes already had it coming. Had the series never been made, the world would have villainized her all the same. The logic is simple, but fundamentally flawed, as it fails to acknowledge the public’s tendency to interpret literally; Holmes later describes fellow prisoners being unable to tell the difference between her and the character Seyfried played on-screen.
But don’t take Holmes’ word for it. Rewind a little, and you’ll hear the same flimsy excuse from her partner Billy Evans. Fielder confronts Evans after discovering he has assumed Holmes’ online identity and is using it to spew vitriol and lies. Like Seyfried, he can’t resist the urge to don the costume and create his own Elizabeth. Evans, however, isn’t content to let himself have all the fun. Taking things a step further, he creates a customizable AI deepfake of Holmes and shares it on the open internet. Appalled at the notion, Fielder suggests the technology will be heavily abused, but Evans fires back. In his view, if people are going to spread misinformation anyways, the tools they use make no difference. Sound familiar?
Evans’ behavior is also unnervingly reminiscent of Holmes’ description of her previous partner, Ramesh “Sunny” Balwani. In her conversations with Chozick, she details a controlling relationship in which Sunny crafted every aspect of her identity, telling her she would have to “kill Elizabeth” in order for Theranos to succeed. Yet, as perverse as the digital avatar is, it captures a very real phenomenon: We all want to be Elizabeth Holmes. Not in the decade-in-federal-prison sense, but to get inside her head and understand her twisted psychology. It’s the reason we can’t stop talking about the film, endlessly theorizing and arguing over the nature of truth and power.
When the corruption at Theranos was still fresh in the popular zeitgeist, I remember cheering as Holmes’ dream burned before her eyes. I truly believed the great gavel of justice had arrived to smite a pathological liar consumed by greed. Having now spent 174 minutes with the “real” Holmes, I question how much I knew with certainty, and how much I needed to be true, in order to fit the internal narrative I built around her. Because ultimately, it’s not enough for us to know that she caused harm. To convince ourselves that her fate is justified, we need to believe that we are better than her. We have hearts and souls and moral compasses to guide us to truth, while Holmes created a product that didn’t work and a cover-up that almost did.
As much as we like to imagine ourselves impervious to the ethical compromises she made, we too trade personal principles for convenience every day. And the longer we spend finding reasons to declare ourselves morally superior to someone like Holmes, the less time we have to repair the culture that managed to produce such a person. If we have any hope to build the future that Silicon Valley promised us, we need to see past the Elizabeth Holmes we created. Only then can we address the system of deceit that made her existence possible in the first place.
Tahi Wilton Geary PO ’29 thought he was done talking about Theranos. He curses fellow Vancouverite Nathan Fielder for not letting him sleep at night.