Everything Everywhere All at Once runs 139 minutes and asks viewers to sit through a lot of it. That is the point. The film, directed by Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert, known together as the Daniels, follows Evelyn Wang, played by Michelle Yeoh, as she struggles with her failing business, her ailing father, and her daughter’s desire to become a pilot. Then the multiverse arrives, and Evelyn finds herself hopping between countless versions of herself, each one carrying a different version of her life.
The premise sounds chaotic, and it is. But the film turns that chaos into something close to a spiritual journey, one that rewards patience and demands attention. It is a movie about family, about failure, and about the infinite possibilities of existence — and it is far more coherent than it has any right to be.
Trailer, via A24.
Evelyn’s Ordinary Life
Evelyn is not a hero. She is a woman in her 50s who owns a laundromat, fights with her husband, and feels lost. Her daughter, Joy, played by Stephanie Hua, wants to leave town and fly, while her husband, Waymond, played by Ke Huiwen, is a quiet man whose immigrant identity weighs heavily on him. Their lives are small, their conflicts familiar, their humor sharp and often uncomfortable.
The film spends its early runtime establishing Evelyn’s world, and it does so with a precision that pays off later. We see her frustrations, her loneliness, her fear of failure. When the multiverse opens up, those stakes feel real because we have been shown the ordinary people behind them. The film is not interested in spectacle for its own sake. It is interested in what happens to people when the rules stop applying.
Yeoh carries the weight of the film. She moves through dozens of versions of herself — Evelyn the accountant, Evelyn the gangster, Evelyn the rock star, Evelyn the cowboy — and she grounds each one in the same weary, determined spirit. She is funny, she is sad, she is angry, and she is always human. The performance is the reason the film works at all.
“Everything Everywhere All at Once” is a film about the infinite possibilities of existence.
Multiverse Chaos
The multiverse concept is not new, but the Daniels treat it with a strange reverence. Each alternate Evelyn represents a different path she might have taken, a different decision she made, a different version of her daughter. Some are happy. Some are miserable. Some are dead.
The film does not explain itself clearly. It throws timelines at the wall and hopes they stick. There is a tax auditor, played by Jamie Lee Curtis, who moves between worlds as a kind of guide. There is a cat, played by a cat. There is a multiverse-watching agency, run by Hong Chau’s Joy. And there is a sequence involving a car crash that is both absurd and deeply moving.
The film asks viewers to keep up, and it does not apologize for the confusion. This is a movie that expects you to think, to remember, to connect dots across scenes separated by hours. It is exhausting, but exhaustion is part of the point. Evelyn is exhausted. So are we.
The film’s visual style is a constant barrage of color, motion, and overlapping images. Characters talk over each other. Scenes run together. The editing is fast, and the pacing is relentless. Some viewers will find this exhilarating. Others will find it overwhelming.
Family and Failure
At its core, Everything Everywhere All at Once is a movie about family. Evelyn’s relationship with her father, played by James Hong, is central. He is a man who has lived many lives, and he sees the multiverse as a way to reconnect with the ones he lost. His presence gives the film its emotional center.
The film also examines the idea of failure. Evelyn has failed as a businesswoman, as a wife, as a mother. The multiverse offers her a chance to fix those failures, but it also forces her to confront why they happened in the first place. The film suggests that failure is not a destination but a process, one that can be examined and understood.
There is a moment near the end where Evelyn realizes what she truly values, and it is not money or success. It is her family, her husband, her daughter. The film is unapologetically sentimental, but the sentiment is earned through everything that comes before it.
The Tax Auditor’s Role
Jamie Lee Curtis plays the tax auditor, and her role is essential. She is the one who explains the rules of the multiverse, the one who helps Evelyn navigate the chaos. She is also a character who has spent her life trying to make sense of nonsense, and her frustration is palpable.
Curtis brings a dry wit to the part. She is not the typical action hero, and the film does not want her to be. She is a bureaucrat, a rule-follower, a woman who has learned to cope with absurdity by treating it as routine. Her scenes with Yeoh are some of the best in the film, a genuine partnership built on mutual incomprehension.
The film also gives Curtis a moment of genuine tenderness. She is a character who has been alone for a long time, and she finds a kind of kinship with Evelyn. It is a quiet scene, but it lands with real force.
Hong Chau’s Joy
Hong Chau plays Joy, the daughter who appears in Evelyn’s multiverse as a boss at a multiverse-watching agency. Her version of Joy is cold, efficient, and unfeeling. She is the opposite of the daughter Evelyn knows, and her presence forces Evelyn to question what she has done wrong.
Chau is excellent in the role. She plays Joy as a woman who has succeeded by abandoning her humanity, and the contrast between this version of Joy and the real Joy is stark. The film uses this contrast to explore the idea that success can come at a terrible cost.
Sound and Music
The film’s sound design is notable. There is a scene where Evelyn travels through a tunnel, and the audio shifts from a normal conversation to a distorted, layered cacophony. It is a simple trick, but it is effective. The music, by Randy Spendlove, is sparse and atmospheric. It does not overwhelm the dialogue, but it sets a tone of wonder and dread.
The film also uses silence well. There are moments where Evelyn is alone in a room, surrounded by empty space, and the quiet speaks louder than any score could.
Where It Falls Short
Not everything works. Some of the alternate Evelyns are thin, existing mainly as punchlines rather than characters. The film’s middle stretch drags, with too many similar sequences that blur together. And the ending, while emotionally satisfying, feels rushed after a film this long.
The film also leans on a few plot devices that strain credibility. The idea that Evelyn can learn skills instantly from other versions of herself is convenient, but it is not explained well. The film trusts that viewers will accept the magic of the multiverse without asking too many questions, and sometimes that trust is misplaced.
Final Word
Everything Everywhere All at Once is a bold, ambitious, and frequently brilliant film. It is not perfect, and it is not for everyone. But it is a rare thing: a blockbuster-scale movie that takes risks and earns them. It is funny, sad, beautiful, and exhausting.
It is also, ultimately, a love letter to the people we are and the people we could have been. Evelyn gets a chance to see all of her lives, and she chooses the one she has. The film suggests that being present, being alive in the moment, is the greatest gift of all.
The film’s final image is a multiverse collapsing back into itself, with Evelyn standing alone in a single reality. It is a quiet note after a loud film, and it leaves the viewer thinking about what really matters.
8.1 out of 10.
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