Welcome to Black Sheep, a spin‑off of my serialized memoir, SMIRK. If you’re looking for SMIRK, here’s the link to the complete book. Black Sheep is where I now follow similar themes of fraud and folly in other companies, industries, and individuals.
Movie reviews aren’t really my thing here. I write Black Sheep to explore personalities behind bad business decisions and financial crimes. But so many of you tuned in to read or listen to my post a few weeks ago ranting about the new Elizabeth Holmes documentary, “You Can See Everything” (over 14,000 and counting), that I felt I had to test whether my initial thoughts (or rather complaints) were correct. A few fans of the filmmaker, Nathan Fielder, even explicitly put that challenge to me. It’s a fair ask, and I’m happy to oblige.
First, a short digression: Given that Holmes and her Theranos fraud are well-trodden territory, Fielder’s documentary needed a new “character” of sorts to reclaim a narrative edge. Everyone who packed theaters to see the film this past opening weekend knows that person was Holmes’ romantic partner, Billy Evans.
I had advance notice that Evans would feature prominently, though. It came in the form of a late-September email from Vanity Fair writer Dan Adler.
“Hi Christie, hope all’s well,” it began, continuing: “I’m working on a story about Billy Evans--Elizabeth Holmes’ husband at the center of the new Nathan Fielder documentary. It made me think of you for all the obvious reasons. I’d love to get your thoughts on that dynamic if you’re open to a call at your convenience? Thanks so much and hope to speak soon.”
All the obvious reasons? What were those supposed to be, I wondered. Of course, I knew he was referring to years ago, when I dated a notorious fraudster myself, Martin Shkreli (which, again, is detailed in my memoir, SMIRK). But that was just one parallel. I hadn’t seen or been briefed on the movie, so I was at a severe informational disadvantage about what other parallels Adler might try to force me into. Media tip for the unwary: A phone interview without parameters is a great opportunity for a reporter to fish for colorful quotes to put into whatever context they like, if they happen to be going for sensationalism.
As I am also a journalist, and have empathy for those in the trade, I try not to be rude or difficult. I replied quickly, directing Adler to my Substack post, “Truth, Lies, and Gimmick Documentaries,” and saying: “Feel free to quote from that obviously,” with a happy-faced emoji. I added: “If you have anything further, of course, let me know.” I also encouraged him to “bother A24” about the Shkreli documentary the production company had been hoarding, which I had participated in years ago.
Dan replied: “I will! And I will read this, looking forward to it--thank you. But do you have time for a quick call tomorrow as well? Just would love to get some live reactions too, you’re perfectly positioned.”
Live reactions? His motives were becoming clearer. I, again, referenced the Substack, adding that if he had any further questions after reading the post, I’d be happy to respond. I wondered if that would be the last I’d hear from Dan, but he sent me one more email the next morning: “OK I read it, enjoyed it, learned from it, but would still love to give you a call!”
Flattering, but hollow. A pickup line designed, again, to maneuver me into a very specific interaction where I would be rhetorically defenseless. I didn’t reply.
Now, with the benefit of having seen the film, I recognize I dodged a bullet. I had wondered whether Evans would come across as a mark taken advantage of by Holmes, which is the frame the media insisted on using for me at first when I went public about my relationship with Martin in 2020 (I fought back, and some eventually realized that was an awkward fit). But the reality was much worse. The film portrayed Evans, with little room for ambiguity, as a monster. He came across immediately as controlling and manipulative — with Fielder focusing early on a detail where Evans insists on taking over for Holmes in making scrambled eggs — and it went downhill from there. I won’t give away the key reveals, but the movie’s strongest catalyst of compassion for Holmes stems from seeing how she is treated by Evans.
But back to why I wrote this post, which was to tell you what I thought of the movie. To start with, as I’ve already explained, I find Fielder’s disorienting blend of irony and earnestness extremely off-putting. It’s not that I think he lacks talent as a filmmaker or that he is not doing anything innovative or worth discussing. Maybe I would even venture to agree with some of the most over-the-top praise from his fans: Fielder might be a genius. But that doesn’t mean his particular “genius,” or whatever it is, appeals to everyone.
That said, I might be in the minority. My X feed for the past three days has been nothing but “takes” on this movie from mostly enthusiastic viewers. I took myself to see it on Sunday afternoon, a matinee at AMC’s Lincoln Center location where every seat was filled. I managed to snag a spot in the second row on the far left. A woman who was probably 30 years my senior was next to me, along the wall, apparently also by herself. During the previews, she complained bitterly to me about how distorted the images on the screen looked from that angle.
The problem became more noticeable once the movie started. The film boasted no-holds-barred intimacy, including extreme close-ups of faces — pores, crow’s feet, and blemishes on Holmes, Evans, and Fielder all in high relief. Holmes’ blue eyes appeared as large as lakes in many scenes. The whites of Fielder’s eyes flashed frequently below his irises, calling to mind a pop culture theory that visible sclera signifies mental instability.
In the quiet setting of a San Diego beach house where she stayed with Evans and her two young children, Holmes tells Fielder: “All I know is my truth. And my love for my family.” Her frizzy blond hair surrounds her face like a warped halo, and tears leak down her cheeks.
“What a psychopath,” hissed the older woman next to me in the theater.
And so it continued, with Fielder climbing deeper and deeper into a rabbit hole with Holmes and Evans, grasping at multiple possible interpretations of the former Theranos CEO’s turns of phrase in a fruitless endeavor to determine if she had a core of oblivious honesty or was a master manipulator. It all felt eerily familiar to me in a way that I didn’t expect the rest of the audience could appreciate. I wanted to scream at Fielder that he was setting up a false dichotomy: “You know, self-delusion is an option with fraudsters, too, right? They might be sincere and still lying to themselves!”
Act I, as everyone knows, concentrates on Fielder’s time in the beach house before Holmes surrenders to prison. Act II, which you are probably somewhat aware of if you’ve been reading social media comments and reviews, becomes a sandbox for Fielder’s weird social experiments, namely getting Amanda Seyfried, who played Holmes in Hulu’s popular show “The Dropout,” to conspire with him in further interviews and stage reenactments of off-camera conversations. The device was clever…at first. But I got bored with this schtick, especially as the movie went well into its third hour. Fielder was using every ordinary impediment to interviewing federal prisoners as a hook to stage yet more reenactments. With other places to be, and my patience threadbare, I walked out of the theater with about 20 minutes remaining.
Homeward bound on the subway, I scrolled absently through still more “takes” from my various arm’s-length media acquaintances who had also seen the movie. My eyes lingered on one comment comparing it to Truman Capote’s “In Cold Blood.”
It solidified a connection in my mind: People had said the same thing about me.
I realized why watching Fielder’s strangely obsessive immersion in the Holmes story — his mixed emotions and confusion playing out on his face, amid the sympathy he was so obviously developing — had triggered such a sense of déjà vu. It hit me: It wasn’t Billy Evans that Vanity Fair should have been trying to liken me to in its search for a catchy angle on the documentary. It was Nathan Fielder.
