You Can See Everything

Canadian ninja nebbish Nathan Fielder and his co-director, Lance Oppenheim, seize the opportunity to move in with blood lady Elizabeth Holmes and her manosphere, bro-culture, hotel-heir husband, Billy Evans, and film their final days before she goes off to prison. It quickly evolves into a kind of Hitchcockian thriller, in which gentle Canadian documentarians try to discern truth and culpability from publicity hounds who seem, at times, to be living on a different planet. (The ping-ponging between reality, documentary and reenactment reminded me of Paul T. Goldman. Look it up!) As the clock ticks down, Holmes grows more saccharine sweet and Evans reveals himself to be a giant, manipulative crackpot. Just when you think this cinematic game of Clue is about to peter out, enter screen left: movie star Amanda Seyfried, lobbing logical and emotional grenades that blow up the whole narrative. The cinematography is atypical: dark, half-shadowed faces framed in a boxy 4:3 evoke an old TV exposé on PBS or something. For nonfiction, it’s suspenseful and ambiguous. It’s not hard to see and feel the filmmakers’ point of view, but it’s hard to know what the rest of the world will conclude.