There’s a lot to say about Everything Everywhere All at Once. A bit like Shawshank Redemption, I spent the beginning of the film wondering where this is all going, what it’s building up to, but by the end, I started to see the loose ends coming together. At first, it felt very much like a family drama: the troubles of the Wang family are made quite apparent, and it seems like these inner conflicts are the driving force of the story. Then it begins to feel more like a sci-fi adventure complete with a “chosen one” cliché. This seems to distract from the conflicts sensed in the beginning, and indeed it was unclear how the two apparently different storylines could relate to one another, but in the end, the science fiction aspects of this film were nothing more than an expression of its dramatic elements.

The film divides itself into three parts, so I will speak a little of each.

The first was “Everything”. It might be thought of as the exposition since it drops you in the middle of the Wang family’s troubles, and introduces the multiverse-level threat of Jobu Tupacki. (The actress playing Joy/Jobu Tupaki does a phenomenal job, by the way, and I loved her frequently over-the-top costumes that would make Elton John jealous.) This was the most confusing of the three parts, and I believe this was intended to feel overwhelming much in the way that “everything” would overwhelm any one of us. You might feel confused watching it since there’s so much going on: the temporal and existential affairs of Evelyn Wang and her daughter Joy in particular. Spoilers: Jobu Tupaki is Joy, and at this stage, one would think of her as the main antagonist, although as the film goes on, this seems less and less like an accurate description.

The second stage “everywhere” reveals the true antagonist of the film as well as the scope of the threat. Jobu Tupaki has seen everything, everywhere, and it’s led her to believe that nothing matters. Philosopher Thomas Hobbes said, “the life of man is nasty, brutish, short”. To that, Jobu Tupacki would respond with “so what?” Everything is simply a “statistical eventuality,” so who cares what happens? Her philosophy is not only absurdist, but also nihilistic and defeatist. And her motives are not of malice, but of desperation. She hoped that, having shown her mother her worldview, she could perhaps learn something that would make sense of it. She doesn’t, and so she intends to annihilate herself.

As I see it, the main problem the film grapples with is the one “truly serious philosophical problem: suicide” (Albert Camus). Except that rather than examine this issue in a detached way, we see it dealt with in response to someone who denies the value of living. Moreover, the omnipresence of Jobu Tupaki that gives rise to her suicidal nihilism is paired with her depression, that further hinders her from seeing a reason to go on living.

What does the film say in response to such a problem? It doesn’t deny the absurdist underpinnings of Jobu Tupaki’s outlook on life. Quite the contrary, it actually validates them, which is sure to leave some people with a bad taste in their mouth. I say this as someone who would consider himself religious because I can envision several acquaintances of mine being offended by any solution to the problem of absurdism that doesn’t outright accept the idea of a God-given purpose for our lives. “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord,” (Jer 29:11) is sure to be a quick-fire rebuttal. And I can even recall one friend saying to me that a life without God is meaningless and has no actual value in being lived. I can’t help but feel this view is just as cynical as Jobu’s since even God’s purpose in creating us can seem absent of meaning or purpose. The Catechism of the Catholic Church, for instance, tells us that “God, infinitely perfect and blessed in himself, in a plan of sheer goodness freely created man to make him share in his own blessed life.” There is no need here. It wasn’t necessary for us to be created, and so a little absurdism creeps into even the Christian religion. So I think it was wise for the film to address Jobu Tupaki’s nihilistic absurdism on absurdism’s own grounds.

Ultimately, the film’s response to this problem—in the form of a heartfelt conversation between mother and daughter—is, first, the validation of those feelings, and second, that despite the validity of those feelings, there is still a greater feeling that, while it doesn’t entirely make sense of the world and might seem immaterial, does give life meaning: love and happiness. The fact that nothing matters paradoxically gives you the freedom to look for what does, no matter how immaterial it might seem.

The third act, “All at Once,” is by far the shortest, and like its name might suggest, it shows the sage-like harmony Evelyn and her daughter now experience. I suppose the reconciliation between mother and daughter mirrors their reconciliation as created beings with their creator, as they now seem to be at peace in their lives.

As I said, there is a lot more that I could say. All in all, however, this is what I make of the film, and I’d consider it a film worth watching. Perhaps it’s too early to say, but it may even be worth watching multiple times since it is so complex. So I’d encourage anyone in the proper frame of mind to see it and consider its ideas.