Elizabeth Holmes disappeared from Silicon Valley after the spectacular collapse of Theranos and her conviction for defrauding investors. Now she has unexpectedly returned to the public conversation through a documentary that may be stranger—and more revealing—than anything that came before it.
“You Can See Everything,” directed by comedian Nathan Fielder and filmmaker Lance Oppenheim, was secretly filmed over roughly three years and stunned audiences when it received a surprise screening at the 2026 Telluride Film Festival. The film will be released theatrically by A24 on October 16.
But this is not simply another Theranos documentary.
The extraordinary element is access.
Thirty-four days before Holmes was due to report to prison in May 2023, she invited Fielder, Oppenheim and their small crew into her home. They documented her family life, her relationship with Billy Evans and her final weeks of freedom. Holmes apparently wanted the filmmakers to see her version of reality—and perhaps reconsider the public's understanding of her.
That decision may have produced something she did not expect.
The woman behind the Theranos myth
Holmes became one of Silicon Valley's most famous entrepreneurs by claiming that Theranos could perform numerous blood tests using only tiny amounts of blood.
Investors believed her.
So did prominent politicians, business leaders and members of the media.
At its peak, Theranos was valued at billions of dollars and Holmes was celebrated as a visionary who could transform healthcare.
Then the story collapsed.
Investigations revealed serious problems with the company's technology and claims. Holmes was eventually convicted on four felony counts relating to defrauding investors and sentenced to more than 11 years in federal prison.
Her story has already been told through documentaries, books and the Hulu series The Dropout.
But Holmes herself had never participated in those documentaries in anything resembling the access granted to Fielder.
That changes the equation.
What happens when the subject becomes the filmmaker's subject?
The most fascinating part of the new documentary may not be what Holmes says.
It may be how she behaves when the cameras are watching.
Fielder is known for deliberately uncomfortable social experiments and situations where it becomes difficult to determine where reality ends and performance begins.
That makes him an unusual person to document Holmes.
According to reports from Telluride, Fielder became increasingly involved in the film after his interactions with Holmes and Evans became so unusual that he could no longer remain simply behind the camera.
Fielder reportedly admitted after the screening that he was still struggling to understand exactly what he had experienced inside the house.
That uncertainty appears to become part of the documentary itself.
Rather than providing a simple answer to the question “Was Elizabeth Holmes a fraud?”, the film apparently asks something more psychologically uncomfortable:
What happens when someone who has spent years controlling a narrative is given an opportunity to tell the story again?
Holmes appears to still believe in her own story
Perhaps the most unsettling aspect is that Holmes apparently continues to maintain her innocence.
The film captures her shortly before prison, while she and Evans are portrayed discussing the future and, according to The New York Times, even plans for a "new and improved Theranos."
That detail is extraordinary.
Theranos is no longer simply a failed startup. It became synonymous with one of Silicon Valley's most notorious corporate scandals.
Yet the documentary suggests that, inside Holmes' world, the story may not have ended in the way the outside world believes it did.
This creates the film's central tension.
Is Holmes attempting to rewrite history?
Does she genuinely believe she was misunderstood?
Was she herself manipulated by the people around her?
Or is the audience once again watching an exceptionally talented communicator construct another narrative?
The filmmakers appear deliberately unwilling to give viewers an easy answer.
And then there is Billy Evans
Holmes' partner, Billy Evans, reportedly becomes increasingly important to the story after Holmes enters prison.
According to reporting from Telluride, Evans assumed control over aspects of Holmes' public life and became the filmmakers' primary connection to her after her incarceration. The relationship between Evans and the filmmakers eventually became strained.
That introduces another layer to the documentary.
The film is no longer simply about Holmes.
It becomes about control.
Who controls Holmes' image?
Who controls the story?
Who controls the cameras?
And perhaps most importantly, who is controlling whom?
Those questions are especially significant given the allegations surrounding Holmes' relationship with former Theranos executive Ramesh "Sunny" Balwani, whom Holmes accused during her trial of emotional and sexual abuse. Balwani denied those allegations and was separately convicted of fraud.
The documentary itself becomes part of the story
This may be what makes You Can See Everything different from previous Holmes productions.
The filmmakers did not simply arrive with a predetermined narrative.
They appear to have allowed the situation to evolve.
The result reportedly includes reenactments and reality-bending sequences that deliberately blur documentary filmmaking and performance.
That approach is quintessentially Fielder.
And it creates an unusual paradox.
A woman whose career was built around controlling perceptions has now become the subject of a film that intentionally destabilizes the viewer's perception.
Even the title, “You Can See Everything,” feels ironic.
Because the more access the filmmakers appear to have received, the less certain the audience may become about what it is actually seeing.
Why this matters beyond Elizabeth Holmes
The fascination with Holmes is not simply about one disgraced entrepreneur.
Theranos became a cautionary tale about Silicon Valley's obsession with disruption.
It showed how charisma, ambition, celebrity investors and a compelling technological promise can combine into an extraordinarily powerful narrative.
But it also demonstrated the danger of confusing confidence with competence.
Holmes did not merely sell a product.
She sold a vision of the future.
And thousands of people wanted to believe it.
That is why her story continues to resonate in today's AI boom.
The technology industry is once again producing young founders promising revolutionary breakthroughs, attracting billions of dollars and becoming celebrities before their technologies have necessarily been proven at scale.
The Theranos lesson therefore remains relevant:
The bigger the promise, the more important verification becomes.
The strangest comeback yet
Holmes is currently serving her sentence at Federal Prison Camp Bryan in Texas. Her federal sentence has been reduced, with the Bureau of Prisons currently listing a projected release date in February 2030.
Yet she has somehow returned to the centre of the cultural conversation without leaving prison.
And perhaps that is the most remarkable part.
Theranos collapsed.
Her fortune disappeared.
Her reputation was destroyed.
A jury convicted her.
She went to prison.
But the story continues.
And now Elizabeth Holmes has given filmmakers extraordinary access to the private world behind the public scandal.
The result, judging from the reaction at Telluride, is not another straightforward Silicon Valley morality tale.
It is something much stranger.
A documentary about a woman accused of creating a false reality—made by a filmmaker whose entire artistic career revolves around exposing the bizarre gap between what people believe is happening and what is actually happening.
Elizabeth Holmes wanted the world to see her side of the story.
She may have gotten exactly what she asked for.
The question is whether she will like what the world sees.
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