A tax audit. A laundromat. A pair of googly eyes stuck to a rock. If you told someone in 2019 that a movie featuring hot-dog fingers and a "Raccacoonie" would sweep the Oscars, they’d have called the authorities. But Everything Everywhere All at Once didn't just win; it recalibrated how we think about blockbuster storytelling in a world that feels increasingly fragmented. It’s a film that manages to be a high-octane martial arts flick, a sci-fi epic, and a crushing family drama all at once. Honestly, it’s a miracle it even got made.
Most people see the chaos and think it's just about the multiverse. It isn't. Not really. The multiverse is just the shiny wrapping paper for a story about a woman who is tired of her life. Evelyn Wang is us. She’s the person with fifty browser tabs open, a pile of bills on the desk, and a nagging feeling that she took a wrong turn somewhere in her twenties. The Daniels (Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert) tapped into a very specific kind of modern anxiety. We are constantly bombarded with information, possibilities, and "what ifs," making the film's title feel less like a name and more like a medical diagnosis of the 21st century.
The Absolute Chaos of Production
When you look at the technical specs of Everything Everywhere All at Once, the math doesn't add up. The movie looks like it cost $150 million. In reality? The budget was closer to $14 million. That is pocket change in Hollywood. Most Marvel movies spend more than that on the catering budget for reshoots.
The secret sauce was a tiny visual effects team. There were only five people. Five. Lead by Zak Stoltz, the team basically taught themselves how to do world-class VFX using YouTube tutorials and cheap software. They weren't working in a massive studio in London or New Zealand; they were working in their bedrooms during a global pandemic. This scrappiness is baked into the film's DNA. It’s why the fight scenes—choreographed by the late, great Andy Le and the Martial Club—feel so tactile and inventive. They used umbrellas, fanny packs, and office supplies because they had to.
Jamie Lee Curtis famously refused to wear a prosthetic belly or use "body-shaping" undergarments for her role as Deirdre Beaubeirdre. She wanted the reality of a woman who has worked behind a desk for thirty years. That kind of commitment to the "ugly" or the "mundane" is what grounds the absurdism. Without that grit, the scenes where people have hot dogs for fingers would just be stupid. Instead, they’re somehow... moving?
Why the Multiverse Actually Works Here
We've been drowned in multiverse stories lately. Marvel did it. DC did it. Usually, it's a way to bring back dead characters or sell toys. Everything Everywhere All at Once uses the multiverse as a metaphor for regret.
💡 You might also like: Why This Is How We Roll FGL Is Still The Song That Defines Modern Country
Every "verse" Evelyn visits represents a choice she didn't make. The version where she’s a movie star. The version where she’s a chef. The version where she stayed in China. The film argues that "the worst version of you" is actually the most powerful because that version has the most potential. It’s a radical flip on the hero's journey. Most heroes are "The Chosen One" because they are the best. Evelyn is the chosen one because she’s the biggest failure.
The Nihilism vs. Optimism Debate
At the center of the film is the Jobu Tupaki problem. The "Everything Bagel." If you put everything on a bagel, it eventually collapses in on itself. This is the ultimate expression of nihilism. If everything is happening everywhere, then nothing matters.
- Joy (Jobu) represents the Gen Z struggle with "doom-scrolling" and the weight of infinite information.
- Evelyn represents the immigrant parent struggle to bridge a generational gap while staying afloat.
- Waymond—played by the legendary Ke Huy Quan—is the secret protagonist.
Waymond’s "be kind" speech is the pivot point of the entire movie. It’s not a soft or weak kindness. It’s a strategic, "choose to see the good because the alternative is unbearable" kind of kindness. When he says, "Please, be kind, especially when we don't know what's going on," he’s talking to the audience as much as the characters. It’s the antidote to the bagel.
The Ke Huy Quan Renaissance
You can't talk about this movie without talking about the "Short Round" of it all. Ke Huy Quan had quit acting for twenty years because there were no roles for Asian men that weren't stereotypes. He was working as an assistant director and stunt coordinator. Then he saw Crazy Rich Asians and felt a spark.
His performance is a masterclass in range. He plays three distinct versions of Waymond: the goofy husband, the "Alpha" action star, and the suave, In the Mood for Love-style romantic lead. His Oscar win wasn't just a "feel-good" story for the industry; it was a correction of a decades-long oversight. The chemistry between him and Michelle Yeoh is the only reason the movie doesn't spin off into total incomprehensibility. They are the anchor.
📖 Related: The Real Story Behind I Can Do Bad All by Myself: From Stage to Screen
Why Some People Hate It (and Why That’s Okay)
Let’s be real: this movie is a lot. It’s loud, it’s vulgar, and it’s weirdly obsessed with butt plugs and IRS trophies. For some viewers, the "maximalism" is exhausting. There is no middle ground with this film. You either think the rock scene is the pinnacle of cinema or you think it’s pretentious nonsense.
The pacing is frantic. The first hour feels like a panic attack. But that’s the point. It’s supposed to mimic the feeling of Evelyn’s brain breaking. If you find yourself checking your watch during the first half, stick with it. The payoff in the final thirty minutes—where all the disparate, silly threads tie back into a conversation about a mother and daughter in a parking lot—is where the movie earns its keep.
Notable Cultural Impact
- A24’s Biggest Hit: It became the first A24 film to cross $100 million at the global box office.
- The Oscar Sweep: It won seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Director, and three out of the four acting categories.
- Representation: It shattered the "model minority" myth by showing a messy, struggling, complicated Chinese-American family.
Beyond the Bagel: Practical Takeaways
If you’re looking at Everything Everywhere All at Once as more than just a movie, there are actually some pretty profound life lessons tucked between the kung fu scenes.
Stop "What-If-ing" Yourself to Death
Evelyn spent her whole life wondering if she’d be happier in another universe. The movie shows that every universe has its own brand of pain. Even the movie star Evelyn is lonely. The lesson? The "right" choice doesn't exist. There is only the choice you make and the way you treat people afterward.
Presence Over Perfection
The final showdown isn't won with a punch; it's won with a conversation. In a world that demands we be "everything" to "everyone," sometimes the most radical thing you can do is just be "here" for "one person."
👉 See also: Love Island UK Who Is Still Together: The Reality of Romance After the Villa
Embrace the Absurd
Life is weird. Rocks don't talk, but in the right context, two rocks sitting on a cliff can make you cry. Don't be afraid of the things that don't make sense. Usually, those are the things that matter most.
How to Watch (or Rewatch) for Maximum Impact
If you’re diving in for the first time, or maybe a third, pay attention to the color grading. Each "verse" has a specific palette. The IRS office is sickly green and beige. The "Movie Star" universe is high-contrast and lush. The "Alpha" universe is blue and cold.
Look at the backgrounds. The Daniels hidden-object-styled the entire movie. There are "circles" everywhere—the bagel, the laundry machines, the googly eyes, the circle Evelyn draws on the tax papers. It’s all connected.
Don't try to track the "logic" of the multiversal jumps too hard. The rules are intentionally loose. Just follow the emotional thread of a family trying to find each other in the noise. If you can do that, the hot-dog fingers won't seem so strange after all.
Go watch the "In Another Life" scene again. Watch Ke Huy Quan's eyes. It’s perhaps the most heartbreaking three minutes of cinema in the last decade, and it happens in a movie where a guy just beat up two security guards with a fanny pack. That’s the magic of this film. It’s everything, everywhere, all at once, and somehow, it’s exactly what we needed.