
2022 · Daniel Scheinert
An aging Chinese immigrant is swept up in an insane adventure, where she alone can save what's important to her by connecting with the lives she could have led in other universes.
dir. Daniel Kwan & Daniel Scheinert ("the Daniels") · 2022
Everything Everywhere All at Once is a multiverse action-comedy-drama directed by Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert — collectively credited as "the Daniels" — produced and distributed by A24, and released in limited engagement on March 25, 2022, before expanding to wide release in April. The film centers on Evelyn Wang (Michelle Yeoh), a Chinese-American laundromat owner overwhelmed by a tax audit, a failing marriage, and estrangement from her daughter Joy (Stephanie Hsu), who is swept into a struggle for meaning across alternate universes. Shot on a reported budget of approximately $14 million, it became one of the highest-grossing releases in A24's domestic history and swept the 95th Academy Awards with seven wins: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actress, Best Supporting Actor, Best Supporting Actress, Best Original Screenplay, and Best Film Editing — the most awards for any single film at those ceremonies in decades.
A24 — the New York-based independent distributor and producer that had built a reputation through arthouse genre films (Hereditary, Midsommar, Moonlight, Lady Bird) — produced Everything Everywhere after an extended development period by the Daniels, who had delivered Swiss Army Man (2016) as their previous feature: an absurdist comedy in which a flatulent corpse (Daniel Radcliffe) helps a stranded man (Paul Dano) survive in the wilderness. That film divided critics but established the Daniels as singular provocateurs willing to weaponize silliness in the service of sincere emotional argument.
The Daniels have described the genesis of Everything Everywhere as rooted in a period of personal and creative overwhelm — a film about the paralysis of infinite possibility conceived from within that paralysis. The screenplay, written by the Daniels themselves, developed over several years before landing at A24.
The production worked within significant budget constraints, relying on practical ingenuity: many of the multiverse sequences were filmed on existing locations — laundromat, IRS office, parking garage — reconfigured through costume, prop design, and camera angle rather than elaborate set construction. The visual effects, though numerous, skewed deliberately toward the lo-fi and tactile — googly eyes, absurdist prosthetics, in-camera gags — rather than photorealistic CGI, a choice that was simultaneously economical and philosophically coherent with the film's argument about the handmade and the particular.
Everything Everywhere was shot digitally. Cinematographer Larkin Seiple worked with RED camera systems, a choice that suited the film's visual demands: rapid reconfiguration between setups, high-sensitivity performance in the fluorescent-lit IRS interiors, and the capacity for high-volume coverage that the film's frenetic editorial pace required.
Visual effects were distributed across multiple vendors and integrated throughout with practical techniques. The verse-jump visualizations — flashes of alternate lives rendered as memory fragments — blend stock-style footage, deliberate lo-fi video texture, and brief digital composites. The everything bagel's black-hole-like rendering is among the film's more fully synthetic images, yet even here the aesthetic tends toward the handmade rather than the polished. The film's deliberate refusal of photorealistic CGI distinguishes it sharply from the contemporary blockbuster multiverse films it exists in implicit dialogue with.
Son Lux — the art-music project of Ryan Lott, Rafiq Bhatia, and Ian Chang — composed the score using an approach that mirrors the film's tonal whiplash: orchestral swell, synth texture, and found-sound collage intercut without conventional buffer, demanding the score inhabit the same anarchic temporal register as the editing.
Larkin Seiple had worked with the Daniels across music videos and on Swiss Army Man, making him a practiced collaborator for the feature's specific mode. His approach establishes the mundane as a visual baseline — cramped, handheld, fluorescent-lit, close — so that eruptions of kinetic action carry genuine contrast. The cinematography does not aestheticize the laundromat or the IRS office; their visual poverty is the point.
The film's palette shifts with universe: the base reality is desaturated and institutional; the martial-arts universe carries a warm amber glow evoking classic Hong Kong cinema; the "movie star" universe is suffused with the blue-green tones of Wong Kar-wai's In the Mood for Love (2000). These chromatic signatures function as rapid-read cognitive shorthand, allowing the editing to cut between universes at high speed without losing legibility.
Paul Rogers's editing won the Academy Award for Film Editing, and the craft is central to the film's identity. The verse-jump is not a dissolve or wipe but a collision — a hard cut the viewer must process simultaneously as narrative information and kinetic sensation. In the film's most intense sequences, average shot length drops to near-subliminal durations while remaining legible, a technical achievement that situates itself within the tradition of kinetic action editing (the Bourne films; early Edgar Wright) while exceeding it in thematic integration: here, the cut IS the multiverse.
The film's three-act structure — labeled within the film itself as "Everything," "Everywhere," and "All at Once" — permits Rogers to modulate rhythm. The middle section is the most aggressively cut; the final third opens into longer takes as Evelyn reaches emotional resolution, a classical expansion of temporal grammar that registers as hard-won calm earned by formal exhaustion.
The staging reflects a sustained tension between constraint and explosion. The IRS building — institutional beige, drop ceilings, identical cubicles — is filmed with almost bureaucratic flatness in expository scenes, then transformed into an action arena using the same furniture and spatial logic. This continuity of space is crucial: the surrealism erupts within recognizable geography, not a void.
The martial-arts sequences draw explicitly on Hong Kong choreographic tradition — Michelle Yeoh's own physical vocabulary, developed across decades in Hong Kong cinema, is deployed as institutional memory. The fight choreography is comic and expressionist rather than realistic, echoing Jackie Chan's integration of everyday objects (office supplies, a fanny pack, an oversized trophy) as weapons and props. The everything bagel — a circular portal of consumed meaning representing Joy's nihilism — is staged in the film's climax with figures silhouetted against its surface, employing a visual grammar of the sublime that the film simultaneously invites and deflates through comedy.
The sound design works in concert with the editing to render the verse-jump as a full sensory event. Each universe carries a distinct sonic signature — ambient texture, musical mode, room tone — and the jump is marked by abrupt environmental shift in sound as much as by image cut, creating a binaural "click" that reinforces the cognitive work of the montage.
Son Lux's score refuses conventional underscore practice. Rather than sustaining emotional continuity across cuts, it participates in the discontinuity — musical phrases are interrupted, textures fragment and reassemble. Its range, from delicate piano figures to dense electronic noise, maps onto the film's own emotional bandwidth.
Michelle Yeoh delivers a performance of remarkable physical and emotional range, navigating comedy, action, grief, and transcendence within single sequences. Her physicality — the product of decades in Hong Kong action cinema — is deployed with awareness of its own history: the film casts her past screen presence as a kind of alternate-universe haunting of Evelyn, and the implicit intertextuality is built into the role's design.
Ke Huy Quan, absent from acting for roughly two decades following his childhood roles in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984) and The Goonies (1985), returns with a performance of astonishing warmth and physical dexterity. His Waymond — meek, loving, quietly visionary — functions as the film's moral center, and his action sequences in alternate-universe mode reactivate the physical grace of his childhood work while layering it with adult weight. His Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor carried a cultural narrative about Hollywood's treatment of Asian-American performers that the industry broadly acknowledged as overdue reckoning.
Jamie Lee Curtis, cast against type as Deirdre the IRS auditor, commits to extreme physical comedy in a deliberately grotesque register — a willingness to disappear into absurdity consistent with her career-long range but novel in specific mode here.
Stephanie Hsu, as Joy and her alternate-universe iteration Jobu Tupaki, bears the film's most formally demanding role: nihilist antagonist, wounded daughter, and philosophical foil to Evelyn's earned optimism. She navigates these registers without ironic distancing, grounding the film's most explicitly allegorical material in recognizable emotion.
James Hong, in his nineties during production and carrying more than seven decades of screen credits, plays Evelyn's father Gong Gong with an authority that is itself a cultural statement — the decades-long exclusion of Chinese-American performers from Hollywood's main channels concentrated in a single presence whose depth the film knows how to use.
The film operates in a mode best described as maximalist tragicomedy: a narrative of genuine emotional weight — immigration, assimilation, intergenerational trauma, the nihilism of limitless possibility — delivered through sustained comic derangement. The structural device of the multiverse functions not primarily as science-fiction worldbuilding but as metaphor for the overwhelming proliferation of selves available to and demanded of the contemporary subject, and particularly of the immigrant subject caught between cultural identities.
The film's central dramatic argument — that love and attention to the particular are adequate responses to the vertigo of infinite possibility — is not reached through rational persuasion but through exhaustion and tenderness. Evelyn does not defeat nihilism with a counter-argument; she overwhelms it with the mundane fact of her care.
The three-part structure follows a classical arc — rupture, chaos, resolution — while subjecting that arc to sustained formal pressure. Comedy is not relief from seriousness but continuous with it; absurdity and grief occupy the same frame throughout.
Everything Everywhere arrives at the apex of multiverse cinema's commercial moment. The Marvel Cinematic Universe had normalized the concept across the preceding decade, culminating in Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021) and Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022). The Daniels' film participates in this cycle while fundamentally reorienting it: the multiverse here is not a franchise architecture but an existential condition, and its emotional stakes are domestic rather than civilizational.
The film is also legible within a cycle of Asian and Asian-American mainstream breakthrough: Crazy Rich Asians (2018) and Minari (2020) preceded it in different registers, and the broader moment of critical receptivity following Parasite's Best Picture win at the 92nd Academy Awards (2020) created conditions in which non-white prestige narratives could reach institutional recognition.
As a genre object, Everything Everywhere is hybrid to a degree that strains categorization — action film, family melodrama, science fiction, absurdist comedy, immigrant drama. This hybridity is formally intentional: the genre collisions mirror the thematic argument about identity and multiplicity.
Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert share directorial and screenwriting credit. They built their reputation through music video work — most notably "Turn Down for What" (2013) for DJ Snake and Lil Jon, notable for its anarchic physical comedy — before Swiss Army Man established them as feature filmmakers. Their method involves extended collaborative writing and a shared directorial sensibility they have described as operating through mutual disagreement toward synthesis: two subjectivities in productive friction.
Larkin Seiple (cinematographer) worked with the Daniels across short-form projects and Swiss Army Man before Everything Everywhere. His aesthetic aligns with the Daniels' preference for practical, grounded visual solutions capable of accommodating formal rupture without breaking legibility.
Paul Rogers (editor) previously edited Swiss Army Man. His Academy Award win for this film represented a significant career arrival, and the collaboration with the Daniels across both features suggests a long-standing editorial relationship central to their formal method.
Son Lux (composers) — Ryan Lott, Rafiq Bhatia, and Ian Chang — brought an experimental art-music sensibility rooted in the ambient and avant-garde. Their score refuses conventional film-music grammar in ways that are integral to, not decorative of, the film's formal argument.
The film occupies a complex position with respect to national cinema categories. It is an American independent film produced within the A24 industrial context, yet its cultural materials — Chinese-American immigration experience, Hong Kong action cinema aesthetics, the moral vocabulary of intergenerational Confucian family obligation — draw from multiple traditions simultaneously.
The film is frequently discussed alongside a loosely defined "Asian-American cinema" moment, though the Daniels are not themselves Asian-American; the film's perspective on the immigrant experience was constructed collaboratively with a predominantly Asian-American cast and informed by extensive creative dialogue with Yeoh, Quan, Hsu, and Hong. This raises questions about authorship and cultural voice that the film's own thematic concerns — about identity, multiplicity, and the constructed self — partially address without fully resolving.
The film's debts to Hong Kong cinema are formal as well as thematic: the choreographic and comedic vocabulary of Stephen Chow (Kung Fu Hustle, 2004), the action grammar of films in the Yuen Woo-ping tradition, and Yeoh's own body of work are absorbed and transformed here, with her physical presence carrying that lineage as lived embodiment rather than quotation.
Everything Everywhere is precisely located in the cultural moment of 2022: a post-COVID reckoning with overwhelm, isolation, and the proliferation of possible selves through digital mediation. Its central metaphor — that access to infinite alternate lives paradoxically drains meaning from the actual one — resonates with the specific texture of platform-era existence: the endless scroll, the algorithmic Other Self, the recommendation engine as multiverse. The film's nihilism is digitally inflected in ways that an earlier multiverse narrative could not have been.
The film's theatrical run represents a specific window in the post-pandemic theatrical economy, in which mid-budget films with genuine cultural resonance could still achieve significant theatrical returns — a window that has since narrowed considerably.
Intergenerational trauma and immigrant identity. The Wang family's experience of displacement, sacrifice, and misrecognition across generations is the film's emotional core. Evelyn's father's disapproval, Evelyn's own sacrifices, and Joy's estrangement form a chain of inherited wound traced with specificity: the particular kind of love that cannot easily name itself, and that can be received as its opposite.
Nihilism as comprehensible response to abundance. Jobu Tupaki's nihilism — the everything bagel as collapsed meaning, the horizon of infinite possibility revealed as horizon of infinite meaninglessness — is presented not as philosophical error but as a temptation the film takes seriously before refusing. The refusal is earned rather than asserted.
Attention and the particular. The film's affirmative argument is articulated through Waymond: that kindness toward the specific — this person, this moment, this rock — is a response adequate to cosmic vertigo. This is philosophical pragmatism rendered in the idiom of action cinema.
The immigrant's double bind. Evelyn is caught between her father's disapproval of her choices and her daughter's estrangement from the world those choices produced. The assimilationist demand — to become successfully American — is shown to be in irresolvable tension with cultural continuity. The multiverse holds multiple versions of Evelyn's life simultaneously without resolving this tension into a lesson.
The mother-daughter relationship. The film ultimately strips back its genre apparatus to locate a mother-daughter love story in which the mother must choose connection over regret, and the daughter must be met rather than corrected. The multiverse scaffolding exists in service of this resolution.
Critical reception was overwhelmingly positive. The film dominated year-end lists and critical polls for 2022, with dissenting voices noting that its maximalism could overwhelm its emotional core, and that its thematic arguments, when extracted from the formal exuberance, are relatively conventional. The tension between formal ambition and familiar emotional destination is a legitimate critical point that the film's defenders tend to absorb into its argument about the adequacy of the ordinary.
Influences on the film (backward): The film draws from an unusually wide constellation. Hong Kong action cinema — the choreographic and comedic traditions of Jackie Chan, the martial-arts grammar with which Yeoh was deeply familiar — informs the physical vocabulary throughout. Wong Kar-wai's color palette and romantic melancholy are explicitly cited through the movie-star universe, which reproduces the tones and handheld intimacy of In the Mood for Love (2000). Charlie Kaufman's brand of existential surrealism — particularly Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) and Synecdoche, New York (2008) — haunts the film's concerns with identity, loss, and the self's multiplicity. Stephen Chow's hyper-kinetic comedy, including Kung Fu Hustle (2004), informs the integration of slapstick into genre action. Edgar Wright's montage grammar — from the Cornetto trilogy and Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010) — is a legible influence on the editing's comic timing. Pixar's model of emotional devastation delivered through genre convention, specifically Inside Out (2015), informs the affective architecture. The Matrix (1999) haunts the concealed-world narrative and the choreographic grammar of the action sequences.
Legacy and influence (forward): It is too early to fully map Everything Everywhere's downstream influence, but several effects are already legible. Michelle Yeoh's Best Actress win — the first for an Asian woman in Academy Award history — is a historical inflection point, whatever the structural conditions that made it exceptional. Ke Huy Quan's return has already influenced casting conversations around performers previously excluded from Hollywood's primary channels. The film's aesthetic — maximalist, lo-fi, emotionally sincere beneath the surrealism — has been widely imitated, typically without the structural rigor that makes the original cohere. Its use of the multiverse as existential condition rather than franchise device has placed implicit pressure on blockbuster multiverse films that followed, sharpening awareness of their relative emotional poverty. The film is likely to enter the permanent critical canon as a significant formal experiment, a representational breakthrough, and a cultural document of the early 2020s — its specific anxieties and its specific solutions both precisely located in their moment while its emotional argument retains legibility beyond it.
Lines of influence