Everything Everywhere All At Once: A Guide for Future Fuckboys the Way it Played with My Emotions

I have never been so confident in anything I’ve said, but I can declare this with no hesitation: this movie has single-handedly transformed the trajectory of the film industry. Everything, Everywhere, All At Once is a masterpiece of our time. It’s the Van Gogh of movies, the creme of the crop, everything that I could’ve asked for, and then some. High school me would’ve eaten this shit up in an analytical English essay.

There are so many different metaphors and analogies and plot points I could dive into, but there’s one very obvious, a glaring topic I can’t not write about. The Asian American representation in this movie is almost flawless. I was practically sobbing at the opening scene. It was like this movie took every core memory of my childhood and then forced me to watch it for two hours. Though I could talk about everything in this movie for hours on end, let’s unpack the three things that stuck out to me the most.

Why Are They Laughing?

There’s something about this movie that I’ve never experienced with any other movie I watched, and it’s something I only realized when I saw it for the second time. There were some points in the movie where I was on the verge of openly sobbing. I had tears streaming down my face and even my boyfriend squeezing my hand couldn’t stop me from stifling my sniffles. But from behind me, I heard people giggling, and the only thing I thought was, why the fuck are they laughing?

I’ve never watched a movie where the audience has changed the way I perceived a message. This one scene where Evelyn is having a heart-to-heart with Joy in the secret sex closet (if you haven’t seen this movie yet, I swear there’s better context) was quite a pivotal moment in the movie for me. It was the first time that Evelyn was open with her daughter without the facade of “tough love”. The first time I saw it in theaters, it hit me hard. During the second viewing, I was expecting a softened blow, but the punch was still delivered with the same power. The only difference was that I could hear various people throughout the theater laughing. To say I was annoyed would be an understatement. How were people laughing at this? Even if you couldn’t relate to a strained parent-child relationship, the scene was portrayed with such conviction that it felt like you were experiencing it firsthand.

That’s when I knew; they were laughing because of the way Michelle Yeoh was speaking. The Chinese accent detracted from everything she was trying to say. People weren’t paying attention to what she was saying but rather how she was saying it. My annoyance quickly shifted to anger. Fury tempted me to shake everyone by the shoulders and yell at them: LISTEN TO WHAT SHE’S SAYING!!! Why does her struggle with the English language take away from what she has to say? Why won’t people take her seriously just because English wasn’t her first language? How unfair is that??

That’s when my anger quickly switched to shame. I was a fucking hypocrite. Who was I to accuse people I didn’t know when that’s exactly what I do with my parents? Every moment where I felt embarrassed because my parents tripped over their limited English vocabulary flashed before my eyes. My own goddamn parents. What did that say about me if I couldn’t even have compassion for my mom and dad? This realization was a well-deserved slap in my face, but it was also a needed one. So, as much as that reality check hurt me, I can’t help but say thank you.

The Subtlety of Intimacy

There’s something about a thumb brushing across your cheek or a hand on your back as you walk down the street that speaks louder than a kiss. The definition of intimacy differs from person to person. I remember the first time I saw my parents kiss each other goodbye before going to work. I was in shock. My parents… do that? To witness something as simple as a kiss between my parents was bizarre. Their “I love you’s” were spoken through washing the dishes for each other and cutting up fruit after dinner. There was an “I love you” whenever one would volunteer to drive me to violin lessons. “I love you” in putting clothes in the wash, “I love you” in carrying the bags on a family vacation, “I love you” in the rice on the dinner table, but never just “I love you”.

This movie portrayed intimacy in a subtle manner that left a crater-like hole in my chest. As a first-generation Asian American daughter, these scenes felt awkward yet all too familiar. If you blinked, you could’ve missed the heavy look in Evelyn’s eyes whenever Alpha Waymond would cup her face with her hands. A seemingly meaningless gesture of affection weighed on her as if she had never experienced it before. Or rather, it was like something of a past life that suddenly sparked a memory within her. It’s heartbreaking how a single hug had Waymond breaking down into tears in her arms at the end of the movie. The kiss before he went to the bathroom had people giggling, but it was more than just a cheesy moment. It was a change. it was a willingness to fight for something and someone you loved.

The Fragility of a Mother-Daughter Relationship (First Gen Edition)

Despite this movie being one of my new favorites, it would also be the last movie I would take my mother to see. Her not truly understanding the metaphors and meaning behind the script is a risk that I wouldn’t want to take. This isn’t to say that she isn’t smart enough to grasp them, but because there isn’t a reality where we would and could both truly understand each other. I could watch the movie one hundred times and still only perceive it the way that I understand it. Our relationship is fragile; it’s always been rocky. It’s been unspoken truths and tip-toeing on eggshells and white flags, not because we’re reluctant to fight for what we believe in, but because we’re just too tired of fighting.

“You need to eat healthier. You’re getting fat”: A line spoken by Evelyn before Joy drives away crying was like a memory plucked straight from my brain and put onto a screen. People in the theater laughed because first of all, how funny! Tiger mom stereotype. But my stomach sank. Tough love was how my parents were raised, and it’s how I was brought up. “You’re getting fat” was an “I love you”. Constant bickering and screaming matches were just a fucked up way of showing that we cared for each other. Tough love that left irreparable damage and an un-stitchable laceration in our family dynamic. Tough love that closed off certain parts of my life to my parents. Tough love that made me realize how weak I was.

The ending of the movie was bittersweet, to say the least. It was a stab wound sown together by a shoelace. A mother who had pushed her daughter to a breaking point but still fought tooth and nail to save her. Does she still deserve praise for pulling her daughter from the edge if she was the one who drove her there in the first place? A mother who was caught between letting her daughter go because that’s what she wanted and holding on so tight that it would leave a bruise. Time heals bruises but not scars.

Every detail played such a huge role in the development of the characters and the storyline. In today’s digital age, it’s hard to create something so unique and different from your counterparts. But I promise you: after watching this movie, you will feel everything, everywhere, all at once.

- Originally published May 25, 2022