Did Billy Evans control Elizabeth Holmes’ story after she went to prison?
Did Billy Evans control Elizabeth Holmes’ story from prison? See the post-prison power struggle and A24 deal questions in this new Fielder documentary.
Key Takeaways
What: A24’s documentary You Can See Everything follows Elizabeth Holmes’ final weeks before entering federal prison.
Why: It shows how her partner, Billy Evans, took control of her public narrative after her 2023 incarceration.
How: Directors Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim filmed her domestic life to examine if she was performing or being real.
The Performance Doesn’t End at the Prison Gates
Standard true-crime stories usually follow a neat curve. A high-profile figure gets caught, a trial makes headlines, and once the cell door closes, the story fades. We assume that prison is where the narrative ends, or at least where the subject’s ability to shape their public image finally stops.
But the new A24 documentary, You Can See Everything, directed by Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim, upends this assumption. The film shows that incarceration did not end the performance; it merely changed who was directing it.
The second half of this three-hour film moves past Elizabeth Holmes’ arrival at the federal prison in Bryan, Texas. At this point, the dynamic between the filmmakers and their subjects underwent a major transition. With Holmes behind bars, her partner, Billy Evans, took over her Twitter account and assumed power of attorney over her decisions. Instead of losing access, the directors found themselves dealing with a new, highly protective gatekeeper. The relationship grew strained as Evans tried to assert editorial control over what the filmmakers could include.
This power struggle raises a quiet, uncomfortable question that competitor coverage has largely overlooked: was the entire project—and its promise of absolute access—part of a calculated effort to profit? The film directly questions whether Holmes and Evans made a quiet financial deal with A24. By shifting the focus to this post-prison chess match, the documentary shows that the struggle to control the narrative became even more intense once Holmes was no longer free to speak for herself.
Thirty-Four Days of Absolute Access
Before the prison gates closed, however, there was a countdown. Holmes gave Fielder and Oppenheim extraordinary access to her San Diego home during her final 34 days of freedom. She and Evans operated under what they called “radical transparency,” inviting the cameras to capture their daily life with their young children.
The resulting footage is deeply strange. In one sequence, the couple takes Fielder to their storage bins to pull out old Theranos machinery. They set it up in their house to demonstrate that the technology, which defrauded major investors of millions of dollars, actually worked. In another room, the cameras roll while Holmes watches The Dropout, the Hulu series starring Amanda Seyfried as Holmes, reacting to a fictional version of her own life.
Fielder, known for his deadpan, observational style, constantly pushes past the couple’s polite exterior. He asks them if they have heard of Abbott & Costello’s “Who’s on First” routine, and then shows it to them, eliciting a bizarre interpretation from Holmes. He even grills Evans, who lets the cameras follow him into the shower. The doors are left open, but the open doors only make the underlying motives harder to read.
The Blurred Line of Reality
As the project progressed over three years, it evolved into something far more complex than a standard documentary. Fielder himself was drawn into the frame, turning from an observer into an active participant who was visibly unsure of his own footing. He found himself growing close to Holmes, even joining her on her final drive to the prison in Texas, yet he remained deeply skeptical.
This tension is amplified by the film’s unusual structure, which incorporates elaborate reenactments featuring a professional Hollywood actress. These staged scenes further complicate the boundary between what is real and what is performed. Holmes herself provides a key to this ambiguity when she reacts to her public portrayal, claiming that media adaptations are not playing her, but rather a character she consciously created. This admission leaves the viewer wondering where the character ends and the real person begins.
A Visual Study in Tension
The film’s formal choices reflect this sense of entrapment and unease. Cinematographer David Bolen avoids the polished look common in modern documentaries, opting instead for a restricted, boxy 4:3 aspect ratio and long zoom lenses. Two camera operators drift through the San Diego home, creating a claustrophobic atmosphere that feels less like a family portrait and more like a surveillance tape.
Editor Adam Locke-Norton adds to the discomfort by holding frames on non-answers and long, quiet pauses. Rather than cutting away to keep the pace brisk, the film forces the viewer to sit with the awkward silence. Threaded through these domestic scenes is a moody, noir-like score by Ari Balouzian, which quietly re-frames a sunny beach house as a psychological crime scene.
The Campaign for Best Picture
A24’s plans for the film are as ambitious as the documentary itself. Scheduled for an October theatrical release, the studio is positioning the project for a historic run. While documentaries are typically relegated to their own category, insiders indicate that A24 is eyeing a Best Picture nomination. No documentary has ever achieved this in the history of the Academy Awards.
A nomination would also help A24 challenge a ninety-year-old record. In 1937, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer secured five Best Picture nominations in a single year during the era of The Great Ziegfeld. With a strong slate of films this season, A24 is attempting a similar sweep.
The biggest obstacle is not the film’s three-hour runtime, but the ethical questions surrounding its subject. Critics may argue that giving a convicted fraudster such a massive platform is irresponsible. The filmmakers’ defense is that the movie is not a rehabilitation effort, but a rigorous study of the impossibility of trust. In a culture obsessed with authenticity, You Can See Everything suggests that sometimes, the more you are allowed to see, the less you actually know.