Be forewarned: There is no way to
adequately craft a proper review of
Everything Everywhere All at Once without
an inordinate number of adjectives and other qualifiers. In fact, it would likely
be easier to create an extensive list of adjectives—with adverbial modifiers to
drive the point home—to critique this extraordinary achievement in American filmmaking.
Everything Everywhere All at
Once is the bombastic brainchild of the directing duo collectively known as
Daniels—Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert. The filmmakers previously helmed the
2016 surrealist comedy-drama
Swiss Army Man, which saw Daniel Radcliffe
playing a corpse with propulsive flatulence and an erection that doubles as a compass.
Daniels bring that unique brand of off-kilter kookiness to their latest effort
and then turn the sensory overload dial way up past the point of no return. Daniels
effectively throw everything and the kitchen sink at the wall and—remarkably and
improbably—everything sticks, everywhere, and (yes) all at once.
The incredible Michelle Yeoh
toplines as Evelyn Wang, a Chinese-American immigrant and laundromat owner who,
while being audited by the IRS, discovers that she must connect with different versions
of herself from parallel universes in order to prevent the destruction of them
all by an evil entity known as Jobu Tupaki. That’s a dramatic oversimplification
of the plot, which also has Evelyn grappling with her daughter’s sexual
orientation, learning of her husband’s petition for divorce, and stressing over
the arrival of her judgmental father (the legendary James Hong) from China. Looming
over all of it is frumpy, humorless IRS inspector Deirdre Beaubeirdra (Jamie
Lee Curtis), who warns of foreclosure and repossession due to Evelyn’s woeful
mismanagement of the business’ taxes.
Through a variant version of her
husband, Waymond (
The Goonies Ke Huy Quan all grown up), Evelyn learns
that every choice made creates a new universe; these innumerable parallel universes
make up the multiverse. In order for Evelyn to defeat Jobu Tupaki—a version of
her daughter, Joy (
The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel’s Stephanie Hsu) who’s
capable of experiencing all universes at once and manipulating matter at will—she
must repeatedly “verse-jump” and connect with the different versions of herself
to access the skillsets and memories of her parallel universe counterparts. But
there is inherent danger in verse-jumping with such abandon; Evelyn risks splintering
her mind, which is what drove a once benign version of her daughter to become
the self-hating Jobu.
In her many verse jumps, Evelyn
sees how her life would have turned out having made a single different choice.
In one, she’s a glamorous martial arts movie star who encounters a sophisticated
version of a Waymond she left and never married—one who now rejects her. In
another, she’s a lesbian married to Dierdre, in a bizarre world where humans
have hot dogs for fingers and play the piano with their toes. In yet another,
she and Joy are merely two rocks with googly eyes living on the edge of a
cliff. Daniels excel at creating madcap, boundary-pushing dreamscapes within these
multiple realities existing at once within the known realm of time and space.
Within their evocative and cacophonous
labyrinth of storytelling, the directors employ an anything-goes audacity—a swirling
cyclone of fertile ideas and heady concepts—and straddle the worlds of science
fiction, comedy, drama, action, and martial arts. The nearly two-and-a-half-hour
film moves at a frenetic pace, with nonstop martial-arts action and
in-your-face slapstick that allow for no bathroom breaks. (Word to the wise: Only
buy the small soda and sip judiciously). Despite the complexity of their convoluted
plot, Daniels admirably keep things surprisingly coherent—even the technobabble
makes sense.
Yet, despite its massive
interdimensional scope,
Everything Everywhere All at Once is
surprisingly intimate in scale. Even as the film slingshots between realities, somewhere
between super-powered pinky fingers and weaponized butt-plugs, its absurdity is
matched only by its heart. While you’re strapped in and relinquishing yourself
to the cathartic rush-release of Daniels’ delightfully gonzo rollercoaster ride
of psychedelic visuals and bold tonal shifts, you don’t expect the film’s emotional
core to sucker punch you so hard by the end. With its larger, overarching message
about kindness being the strongest weapon, it’s a story of human connection
explored here in the conflict and reconciliation between an Asian mother and
daughter who learn to cherish each other again.
Anchoring that emotional core is Yeoh’s
Herculean performance. The film reads like a love letter from Daniels to the
59-year-old actress, who’s given what’s easily the best role of her career. Yeoh
adeptly juggles the myriad nuances of Evelyn’s multiverse counterparts with
aplomb, never losing track of who she’s supposed to be at any given moment.
That she’s able to play so many versions of, essentially, the same character is
no small creative feat. She effortlessly switches from comedic to dramatic,
from martial arts maestro to overwrought mother, without missing a single beat
anywhere in the film. Yeoh’s Evelyn shows us that even when you feel like you
are the worst possible version of yourself, there is hope.
Likewise, the film’s supporting
cast is a treat. Arguably, Quan does as much heavy lifting as Yeoh, especially
in being tasked with having to explain the more technical aspects of Daniels’
plot. Hsu is a pure joy (pun intended) as both disaffected twenty-something
daughter and as the colorful, villainous embodiment of all that disaffection.
(Fun fact: Hsu got the role after Awkwafina dropped out due to scheduling conflicts.)
Hong, a legend in his own right, lends gravitas to his role as Evelyn’s father
and it’s a hoot to see him deployed in the multiverse. Tallie Medel as Becky,
Joy's girlfriend, also makes the most of what could have been a pedestrian
role. Curtis, who’s become so comfortable in her own skin as an actor as she’s matured,
is a real scene-stealer here. In the hands of a lesser actor, her crotchety
Dierdre could have been played as a one-note comic relief character, but Curtis
imbues her with so many subtle humanities, that she elevates Dierdre beyond the
periphery. There’s a scene between Evelyn and Dierdre outside the laundromat toward
the end of the film that is utterly pitch-perfect and shows why these two women
are Hollywood royalty.
My only beef with
Everything
Everywhere All at Once has nothing to do with the film itself and more to
do with its distributor, A24. Arguably one of the most ambitious and prestigious
film outfits out there today, I’m baffled why they chose to release this virtuoso
cinematic triumph so early in the year. My fear is that the film will be overlooked
come awards season later this year—and that will be nothing short of criminal.
The film, its directors, its screenplay, its score by Son Lux, Larkin Seiple’s
cinematography, its countless technical achievements, and at least three of its
actors—Yeoh and Quan in lead acting categories, Curtis in supporting—should all
receive nominations from multiple awards bodies. I hope the members of these
various awards institutions will remember this masterpiece film a few months
from now amid the noise of the year-end slate of “prestige” films that take
over the narrative leading up to nominations.
Somewhere between death and taxes
are beautiful moments—and these brief snippets of time are what make life worth
living. This is the essence of Everything Everywhere All at Once and
Daniels—aided immeasurably by Yeoh and their ensemble—employ an unmatched artistic
aptitude in bringing their vision to whimsical, technicolor life. It’s a masterclass
in filmmaking that will enthrall you with its exquisitely choreographed martial
arts sequences before bringing tears to your eyes with the weight of its
profound questions and truths about life. Unlike anything you’ve seen before, Everything
Everywhere All at Once is destined to be a classic, an amalgamation of
genre anarchy that defies classification, subverts expectations, and explores
existential matters with empathy and insight. This marvelously unhinged slice
of cinematic maximalism is nothing short of a work of art—and not to be missed.
Just let go—and let Yeoh.
