Filmmakers Nathan Fielder (Nathan for You, The Rehearsal) and Lance Oppenheim (Primetime, Some Kind of Heaven) collaborate on this unconventional A24 documentary following disgraced Theranos founder Elizabeth Holmes during the final 34 days before she surrenders to federal prison in Texas. Holmes and her partner, Billy Evans, invite the filmmakers into their home, offering a glimpse into their family life and efforts to revive the medical technology at the center of Silicon Valley’s most notorious fraud scandal. As the directors attempt to understand the woman behind the headlines, questions emerge about how much of what we see is genuine and how much is carefully constructed. (174 min.)
Editor’s note: The Starkeys are on vacation, so New Times Staff Writer Chloë Hodge and Sun Staff Writer Madison White put their film critic hats on.
You Can See Everything
What’s it rated? R
What’s it worth, Madison? Full price
What’s it worth, Chloë? Full price
Where’s it showing? Regal Edwards RPX Santa Maria,
Regal Arroyo Grande
Chloë: I’ve been a Nathan Fielder fan for years, ever since a friend introduced me to his particularly bizarre brand of comedy through Nathan for You. His work falls somewhere between an elaborate prank and a social experiment, where the joke is often so uncomfortable that you’re not entirely sure whether you’re supposed to laugh. What I find fascinating about this film is the parallel between Fielder and Holmes. Fielder has built a career around playing a version of himself that audiences still can’t quite figure out. Is the socially awkward, painfully literal man we see in Nathan for You and The Rehearsal really him, or is it all an elaborate bit? So, watching Fielder turn his attention to Holmes, another public figure whose entire persona has been called into question, made for an insanely mind-boggling watch.
Madison: I walked into the theater with limited knowledge about Elizabeth Holmes or Nathan Fielder. Oops! Nothing that a little bit of good storytelling couldn’t fix. For that, I give credit to Fielder’s quiet, prying ways. He was really comfortable leaving space for silence, like any expert interviewer can do, and waiting for his subject to spill it. Fielder got Billy Evans good a couple of times. In other moments, Fielder just made me squirm. Eerie, high-pitched music straight out of a horror flick played over extreme close-up shots of his subjects’ faces. Not to mention, there was plenty of intense eye contact. A little bit shuddering if you ask me.
Chloë: I loved the atmosphere Oppenheim created with the bizarre camera angles and eerie music. At times, I almost forgot I was watching a documentary. It felt more like a psychological thriller. And I absolutely ate up the second half, when the film took a turn I never saw coming. I know it’s nearly three hours long, but I honestly wanted more! I also found the gender dynamics fascinating, particularly how differently people can interpret the same interactions. What one person brushes off as strange or harmless, another recognizes as deeply troubling. It made me question how much of what we’re seeing is shaped by our own experiences and biases. Between that and the constant uncertainty over what’s real and what’s performance, I was hooked.
Madison: I totally agree that it was worth the time at the theater. Where the film really picked up was about midway through when Holmes went to prison. Watching a family prepare for its mother to sit in a cell for years was wild. Fielder tried to break the tension in a couple of hilarious spots, and then the film got super twisty. More captivating than the humor was how he left me constantly trying to guess which way was up. Everyone in the film teetered between truth and lies, innocence and guilt, even under the guise of a documentary. Like you said, at times it felt like fiction. When it came to assumptions about both Fielder and Holmes, the directors left final conclusions up to the viewer.
New Times Staff Writer Chloë Hodge and Sun Staff Writer Madison White wrote Sun Screen this week. Comment at chodge@newtimesslo.com.
This article appears in October 29 – November 5, 2026.
