“You Can See Everything” and the nature of liars

WARNING: This post contains spoilers for the movie You Can See Everything.

A few days ago, I had the great pleasure of seeing Nathan Fielder’s new film, You Can See Everything. I’ve been a fan of Fielder’s work for a long time, so I basically knew what to expect, but it was still incredible — every bit as good as you’ve heard. Go see it if you haven’t.

The film is a documentary about the notorious fraudster Elizabeth Holmes (of Theranos fame) and her partner Billy Evans. But it’s also sort of a horror movie about liars. That was interesting enough that it made me want to write a post about the movie — about the nature of lying, and of belief, and of human communication in general.

If you read even a little bit about the history of Theranos, there is absolutely no question that Elizabeth Holmes is a deliberate fraudster and a prolific, aggressive liar. Holmes presented potential investors with fake financial results in 2015. She personally added fake logos of pharmaceutical companies to Theranos’ own reports. She flatly stated that Theranos didn’t dilute blood samples, then admitted in court that she intentionally concealed the fact that they did dilute blood samples. Theranos employees detailed the whole deliberate fraud in anonymous online posts years before the story broke.

But You Can See Everything doesn’t cover much of this actual history. Fielder doesn’t bother to indict Holmes and prove that she committed fraud — the court case already did that. Instead, he offers a window into the psychology of someone who could commit such an epic fraud. Holmes and Evans allow Fielder into their home with the goal of proving that they’re just regular, good people trying to improve the world. Instead, Fielder depicts the couple — quite accurately — as monsters of deception and manipulation.

It’s doubtful that any other filmmaker could have done nearly as good a job of this. The blurry line between what’s real and what’s fake has always been a major theme of Nathan Fielder’s work — he loves hiring actors to simulate past and future interactions, constructing facsimiles of whole buildings, and so on. And of course he’s very skilled with the tricks of the visual storyteller’s trade, using deliberate cuts, camera angles, and creative edits to make the audience think and feel what he wants them to.

Whereas many filmmakers would have regarded Holmes as a subject to be studied, Fielder seems to see her as an opponent to be challenged and beaten. If he can shoot what Holmes wants him to shoot, but ultimately seize control of the narrative, then he’s the more powerful storyteller. This, I think, is why he doesn’t bring in outside evidence to show what a well-documented liar Holmes is. That would be cheating. Instead, he has to venture into the monster’s lair alone, and defeat her in single combat. He has to film the movie that she asks him to film, and let her show him only what she wants him to see, and still have audiences walk away having seen the story that he wants to tell.

And of course he succeeds, because he’s very good, but also because he gets to edit the film, and editing is more powerful than acting. Score one for the good guys.

(Major spoilers begin here.)

How does Fielder win the contest? Over the course of You Can See Everything, he captures Elizabeth Holmes saying a number of strange and extraordinary things:

1. Near the beginning, Holmes tells Fielder that she’s never lied in her life. After he presses her, she half-admits that she may have told small white lies out of convenience. But the audience gets to watch her repeatedly assert something obviously, fantastically false, always with the same sincere, relaxed, wide-eyed expression on her face.
2. Later on, Fielder shows Holmes the famous “Who’s on first?” comedy routine, which she claims never to have seen. After watching it, Holmes claims not to have realized that the baseball player’s name is “Who” — thus missing the entire point of the sketch.
3. Fielder recruits Amanda Seyfried, who played Holmes in the miniseries The Dropout, to help him figure out what’s going on with Holmes and her partner. At one point, Holmes is calling on the phone from prison. Seyfried asks Holmes if she knew Seyfried would be on the call, and Holmes says “I’m not sure if I knew.”

It’s moments like these, more than any simple lie, that reveal Holmes’ true character. In fact, Fielder seems like he passes up several chances to catch Holmes in a straight-up lie on camera. After all, what would one lie, or even three lies, really prove? Everyone lies sometimes, and capturing a couple of those instances during weeks of living with Holmes wouldn’t be hard. It would be a cheap trick, and it wouldn’t really prove that Holmes is a liar in general.

Instead, the moments Fielder captures demonstrate something deeper and far more unnerving about Holmes’ relationship to the truth. Holmes is a very special and powerful kind of liar — someone for whom deception and manipulation are as automatic and as continuous as breathing.

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