Everything Everywhere All at Once

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The Movie in 3 Sentences

Everything Everywhere All at Once starts with Evelyn Wang, a laundromat owner whose marriage, family, business, and taxes are all collapsing at once. Then the multiverse cracks open, revealing countless versions of the life she could have lived. Beneath all the absurdity, martial arts, alternate realities, and googly eyes, the movie is really about something much more intimate: how to keep caring when the world feels overwhelmingly large and chaotic.

That part hit me harder than I expected. We live inside a constant stream of news, outrage, tragedy, and catastrophe, most of it completely outside our control. I already have a hard time separating the things that actually belong to my life from everything else happening in the world, so the film’s central question felt surprisingly personal: if everything is happening everywhere all at once, how are you supposed to decide what deserves your attention?

One possible answer is nihilism. If the universe is enormous, random, and indifferent, then maybe nothing really matters. But following that thought all the way through means saying that the people I love don’t matter either. My family doesn’t matter. Art doesn’t matter. Nature doesn’t matter. All the small things that make being alive worthwhile become meaningless too.

The movie offers a much more compelling alternative: maybe most things don’t matter, but some things do—and we get to choose what they are. Meaning does not have to be handed down by the universe. It can be something we create through love, kindness, attention, and the people we decide to show up for.

That distinction between “nothing matters” and “I choose what matters” sounds small, but emotionally it felt enormous. Somewhere underneath all the multiverse insanity, the film found a remarkably simple argument for staying engaged with life.

By the end, I was a sobbing mess.

Definitely one I’ll watch again.