Last week I finally sat my wife down to watch Everything Everywhere All At Once, a film I’d watched on my own one of those times she was away for work or something. When I first popped it on I figured it was the kind of big, flashy, action-oriented, Marvel-esque movie she usually tries to avoid by either not watching or falling asleep halfway through. And, over the past few years, I’ve found myself avoiding these movies too. But I quickly realized while watching Everything Everywhere All At Once that first time that this big, flashy, action-oriented thing had heart. In fact, it wasn’t just beautiful and deceptively human, it was saying something (or many things) important.
In a world where we’re constantly bombarded by an overwhelming deluge of information, where every swipe of our phones presents us with more content than we could consume in a lifetime, the film feels like a cinematic representation of our digital age. It doesn't just depict the chaos of modern life—it embodies it.
The sheer volume of visual information in the film is staggering. We’re presented with countless frames of Michelle Yeoh in different universes, each one a glimpse into a life that could have been. It’s disorienting, overwhelming, and yet strangely compelling. There’s a sense that we’re in the hands of something significant, if only because there’s so much going on. This maximalism isn’t just stylistic excess—it’s thematically crucial.
In many ways, the film mirrors the world we now inhabit, a world of infinite possibilities and endless content. It brings to mind Bo Burnham's prescient special, Inside, particularly the song "Welcome to the Internet":
Could I interest you in everything, all of the time?
A little bit of everything, all of the time
Apathy’s a tragedy and boredom is a crime
Anything and everything, all of the time
Yet within this cacophony of possibilities, Everything Everywhere All At Once manages to tell a deeply human story. The film’s genius lies in its ability to root every conflict, every tension, every key moment not in some grand, multiverse-threatening cosmic showdown, but in real, intimate, “small” human moments. It’s a story about family, about generational trauma, about the roads not taken—all set against the backdrop of infinite possibility.
The film’s absurd logic—the multiverse jumping, the bizarre skills acquired from alternate lives—doesn't need to make the same kind of sense as a Christopher Nolan film or even a Marvel movie. Somehow, because it lives in this immense mountain of content, we accept its internal logic. It’s not that we’re too busy trying to keep up with the emotional core of the story to nitpick the mechanics of universe-hopping. Rather, in a world of endless possibilities, we might as well accept this one—especially since the film is not about such cleverness, even if it pretends to be for a long time.
This acceptance is aided by the film’s sense of humour, which oscillates between silly and heartfelt, but is always present. It’s a humour that disarms us, that makes us more receptive to the film’s deeper themes. We laugh at hot dog fingers and raccoon chefs, and in doing so, we open ourselves up to the profound questions the film is asking about meaning, nihilism, and the choices we make in life. And we laugh with a certain pity at Waymond, who wants nothing more than to do laundry and taxes together with his wife, until we realize the joke is on us.
The action sequences, while long and meticulously choreographed (another clear homage to The Matrix), never upstage the core human story. Unlike many Marvel-influenced movies, where spectacle often overwhelms substance, here the action serves the narrative and themes. Every fight, every leap between universes, is in service of Evelyn’s journey of self-discovery and reconciliation.
One of the most powerful scenes in the film occurs in a universe where Evelyn and her daughter Joy / Jobu Tupaki become rocks on a desolate planet. In this stripped-down, silent setting, we witness one of the film’s most emotionally charged moments. It’s a bold counterpoint to the avalanche of hyper-coloured content that dominates much of the film, and it works precisely because of this contrast. In the simplicity and silence, we find vulnerability and connection.
At the heart of the movie is Waymond, Evelyn’s husband, whose unwavering kindness and belief in goodness serve as a counterpoint to the nihilism that threatens to engulf both Evelyn and Joy. Through Waymond, the film becomes as much about learning how and why to fight as it is about learning how to love again. It’s interesting to note that the lack of a certain chemistry between the actors portraying Evelyn and Waymond actually enhances the power of their pairing—their dire strait is believable, and their relationship feels real, lived-in, complex.
Perhaps the most profound message of the film is its reframing of failure and disappointment. Alpha Waymond tells Evelyn:
Every rejection, every disappointment has led you here to this moment. Don't let anything distract you from it.
For some reason this didn’t feel like the trendy “failure-leads-to-success” pablum of modern self-development chic. For Evelyn, her power is in the paths she didn’t take, which other versions of her maximized. It gives her a certain bittersweet potential. Everything she isn’t allows her to be anything she wants.
Everything Everywhere All At Once captures the zeitgeist of our time—the overwhelming nature of modern life, the crisis of meaning in a world of endless possibility, the struggle to find connection in a fragmented reality. And it does so while never losing sight of the human moments—a mother and daughter learning to accept one another.
My wife did fall asleep halfway through. So I guess it’s not a perfect movie. But it was worth getting to the end together, before returning to, among other things, laundry and taxes.
Writing
6/10. Where has the week gone? A bad cold is my excuse.
Reading and Listening
The Return of the King, narrated by Andy Serkis.
Quote of the Week
“Genius, in truth, means little more than the faculty of perceiving in an unhabitual way.“