Everything Everywhere All At Once

If Everything Everywhere All at Once were a person, it would be the most chaotic, over-caffeinated, emotionally unstable, and absurdly wise friend you have—the one who somehow makes you laugh, cry, and question the meaning of life in the span of a single conversation. This movie isn’t just a film; it’s a full-body experience. It grabs you by the collar, hurls you through the multiverse at breakneck speed, and somehow, by the end, makes you believe in the power of googly eyes and a well-placed hug.

At the heart of this madness is Michelle Yeoh, who plays Evelyn Wang, a middle-aged laundromat owner drowning in tax problems, an unraveling marriage, an increasingly distant daughter, and, oh yeah, an unexpected multiversal war where she’s the universe’s last hope. So, you know, a normal Tuesday. Yeoh is a revelation—switching from exhausted immigrant mother to kung-fu master to hot-dog-fingered romantic to literally a rock, all while making you feel every ounce of her existential crisis. It’s like watching an entire lifetime of performances crammed into one movie, and she absolutely owns every second.

And then there’s Ke Huy Quan, who storms back into Hollywood like he never left, delivering one of the most heartbreakingly pure performances as Waymond, Evelyn’s kind, soft-spoken husband who turns out to be the most quietly profound character in the entire film. One minute he’s bumbling with fanny-pack dad energy, the next he’s slicing through goons with said fanny pack, and then, just when you think you have him figured out, he drops the monologue about kindness that shatters your soul into a million pieces. This is the kind of performance that makes you want to hug every nice person you’ve ever met.

And then there’s Stephanie Hsu as Joy/Jobu Tupaki, who, honestly, might be one of the most hilariously terrifying antagonists ever put to screen. She’s nihilism in a glittering Elvis suit, flipping between existential despair and chaotic slapstick, and somehow, amidst all the ridiculousness, she delivers a gut-punch performance about generational trauma, identity, and the all-consuming fear of never being enough. If you thought your mom made you feel guilty, imagine if she could literally fight you across infinite universes.

But let’s talk about how this movie does what it does. The Daniels (Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert) direct this film like two absolute lunatics who somehow got their hands on an A24 budget and decided to use it to make the most emotionally resonant fever dream imaginable. The editing is on another level—flipping between universes, tones, and aspect ratios like it’s no big deal. One moment it’s a high-stakes kung-fu battle, the next it’s a heartfelt conversation between two literal rocks, and somehow, both scenes hit just as hard.

And the action? Gloriously absurd. You will never see another movie where a butt-plug-fueled martial arts battle exists in the same space as an Oscar-worthy meditation on love and acceptance. The fight choreography is top-tier—equal parts Jackie Chan homage and absurdist comedy—because why shouldn’t a fight scene involve a guy using a keyboard like nunchucks?

And let’s not forget the emotional core of it all. Because underneath the hot-dog fingers, the raccoon puppeteering (yes, Raccacoonie is real and magnificent), and the existential bagel of doom, this is a story about a mother and a daughter, about learning to choose love and kindness even when life is messy and incomprehensible. It’s about the small, quiet moments that make existence meaningful—even if you are just a rock on a hill.

By the time the credits roll, you’re left feeling emotionally drained in the best way possible. Everything Everywhere All at Once is absurd, heartfelt, hilarious, existential, and genuinely one of the most original films ever made. It’s a love letter to chaos, to immigrant families, to kindness, and to the fact that sometimes, the only way to fight existential dread is to put googly eyes on everything.