In a whirlwind of bagels, hot-dog fingers, and interdimensional kung fu, one film shattered expectations and stitched the multiverse together with heart, humour, and havoc.

Picture a laundromat on the brink of cosmic collapse, where a beleaguered Chinese-American mother unlocks the chaos of every possible life she could have lived. Everything Everywhere All at Once burst onto screens in 2022, blending breakneck action, surreal comedy, and profound family drama into a tapestry that feels both wildly inventive and intimately human. Directed by the duo known as Daniels, this film transcends genres, offering a multiverse odyssey that resonates with the immigrant experience, generational clashes, and the search for meaning amid absurdity.

  • The audacious multiverse mechanics that fuse martial arts mastery with everyday object absurdity, redefining sci-fi action.
  • A heartfelt exploration of family bonds strained across realities, anchored by powerhouse performances from Michelle Yeoh and a stellar ensemble.
  • Daniels’ boundary-pushing vision, cementing the film as a modern classic with echoes of retro cinema’s bold experimentation.

Laundromat of Limitless Lives

The story kicks off in the most mundane of settings: the family-owned Everything Bagel laundromat in California, where Evelyn Wang grapples with IRS audits, a faltering marriage to Waymond, and tensions with her daughter Joy. As Chinese New Year approaches, Evelyn’s world unravels when her mild-mannered husband reveals himself as a version from another universe, warning of an impending doom orchestrated by the omnipotent Jobu Tupaki. This antagonist, a nihilistic force born from infinite possibilities, threatens to collapse all realities into a black hole of everything-bagels—literal and metaphorical voids of meaning.

Evelyn, portrayed with ferocious nuance by Michelle Yeoh, discovers she can “verse-jump,” tapping into skills from her alternate selves: a movie star, a chef, even a sign-spinner with unparalleled flair. These shifts propel her through a kaleidoscope of universes, from one where people have hot-dog fingers to another dominated by googly-eyed rocks communicating via interpretive dance. The narrative hurtles forward with relentless momentum, interweaving high-stakes chases—think fanny-pack guns and butt-plug weapons—with quieter moments of reconciliation. Joy, played by Stephanie Hsu, embodies the generational rift, her rebellion manifesting as Jobu’s destructive spree, while Jamie Lee Curtis subverts her typecast as the stern auditor Deirdre, revealing layers of vulnerability.

Ke Huy Quan, returning to live-action after decades in effects work, infuses Waymond with disarming optimism, his kindness a counterpoint to the multiverse’s brutality. The film’s production cleverly mirrors its chaos: shot on a modest budget with practical effects augmented by digital wizardry, it captures the DIY spirit of early sci-fi like The Matrix meets Being John Malkovich. Every frame pulses with invention, from the Raccacoonie sequence—a parody of Pixar rat-chef tales—to the rock universe’s minimalist poetry, all underscoring the theme that connection triumphs over entropy.

Behind the scenes, Daniels drew from personal experiences of cultural displacement, infusing the script with authentic details of Asian-American life. The laundromat, inspired by real immigrant businesses, becomes a nexus for universal struggles, much like the corner stores in 80s slice-of-life dramas. This grounding elevates the spectacle, ensuring the multiverse madness serves deeper emotional truths rather than mere gimmickry.

Verse-Jumping Action Extravaganza

The action sequences stand as balletic masterpieces, choreographed by 87eleven, the team behind Atomic Blonde and John Wick. Evelyn’s proficiency shifts—from kung fu empress to teppanyaki chef wielding ladles as nunchucks—create a visual symphony of combat that’s as hilarious as it is harrowing. A standout is the apartment brawl, where household items morph into arsenals: a holed-up keyboard becomes a deadly projectile, laundry bags conceal explosives. This resourcefulness echoes the ingenuity of retro martial arts flicks like those from the Shaw Brothers studio, where props were props, not CGI illusions.

Daniels amplify the chaos with rapid cuts and impossible perspectives, verse-jumping mid-fight to swap fighting styles seamlessly. Yeoh, at 59 during filming, performs feats reminiscent of her glory days in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, her physicality conveying Evelyn’s transformation from reluctant hero to multiversal warrior. The sound design roars in tandem—crunching bagels, squelching hot dogs—immersing viewers in tactile absurdity that heightens the stakes.

Critically, these set pieces avoid gratuitous violence, using humour to deflate tension. When Evelyn battles an alpha universe Gong Gong, her grandfather figure, the fight dissolves into emotional catharsis, blending Everything Everywhere with the filial piety of classic wuxia tales. This fusion honours retro action cinema while innovating for a new era, proving multiverse tropes can evolve beyond caped crusaders.

Influenced by Hong Kong New Wave cinema, the choreography prioritises spatial awareness, with long takes tracing Evelyn’s growth. Collectors of retro fight tapes will appreciate the nods to Jackie Chan’s prop-based peril, updated for infinite scalability.

Bagel Black Holes and Nihilistic Noodles

At its core, the film wrestles with existential despair through surreal metaphors. Jobu’s everything-bagel, seeded with every flavour imaginable yet ultimately empty, symbolises the overwhelm of infinite choices leading to apathy. This mirrors millennial anxieties about purpose, akin to the quarter-life crises in 90s indie films like Reality Bites, but amplified across dimensions.

Evelyn’s arc confronts her regrets—unfulfilled dreams, strained relationships—finding salvation in small kindnesses, like Waymond’s plea to “be kind” amid apocalypse. The rock universe, with its silent eons of existence, poignantly captures isolation, voiced in subtitles that evoke poetic haiku. Such sequences draw from experimental shorts, blending Looney Tunes lunacy with philosophical heft.

The immigrant narrative threads through, Evelyn’s parents embodying traditional expectations clashing with Joy’s queer identity and modern freedoms. This generational dialogue, laced with humour, resonates with diaspora stories from 80s Asian cinema imports, now mainstreamed.

Visually, the production design by Jason Schug crafts universes with thrift-store aesthetics: piñata people burst confetti gore, a universe of motion-tracked dogs nods to early VFX experiments. These choices ground the fantastical in retro craft, appealing to collectors who cherish practical effects over polished pixels.

Kindness as the Ultimate Superpower

Waymond’s philosophy—that kindness persists across verses—emerges as the antidote to chaos, subverting action-hero machismo. Quan’s performance, infused with Indiana Jones-era charm, reminds us of his child-star roots, his earnestness piercing the film’s frenzy.

Thematically, it champions empathy over power, a message timely in polarised times, echoing 80s family adventures like The Goonies where unity prevails. Daniels weave this without preachiness, letting actions speak through montages of alternate lives flashing potential joys.

Cultural impact surged post-release: Oscars for Best Picture, Director, Actress, and more validated its audacity. Streaming revivals sparked TikTok recreations, bagel memes flooding feeds, bridging old-guard cinema with viral nostalgia.

For retro enthusiasts, it revives the wonder of practical SFX-heavy 80s blockbusters, proving heartfelt storytelling endures beyond franchises.

Legacy in a Multiverse of Media

Sequels whisper in development talks, but its influence ripples: multiverse fatigue paused as Everything Everywhere humanised the concept. It inspired indie creators, with short films aping its style, and elevated A24’s reputation for bold risks.

Merchandise—bagel replicas, Raccacoonie plushies—fuels collector markets, evoking 90s toy crazes. Home video editions pack extras: Daniels’ commentary dissects verse-jumps, storyboard art showcases pre-vis chaos.

In genre evolution, it bridges retro kung fu with modern blockbusters, influencing future spectacles. Its box-office triumph from arthouse roots mirrors Pulp Fiction‘s 90s upset.

Ultimately, it affirms cinema’s power to connect disparate souls, much like VHS swaps built 80s fan communities.

Director/Creator in the Spotlight

Daniel Kwan, born in 1988 in Los Angeles to Taiwanese immigrant parents, grew up immersed in cinema, devouring Hong Kong action films and American blockbusters. He studied film at Emerson College, where he met his creative partner Daniel Scheinert, born in 1987 in Georgia. Together, dubbing themselves Daniels, they honed their craft through YouTube sketches and music videos, gaining notice with surreal shorts like “Period Piece” and the viral trailer for Swiss Army Man (2016), a corpse-comedy starring Daniel Radcliffe and Paul Dano that premiered at Sundance and earned a cult following for its bold bodily humour and existential musings.

Scheinert, with a theatre background, brought visual flair from directing OK Go music videos known for optical illusions. Their debut feature Swiss Army Man polarised critics but won awards for originality, launching them into Hollywood. Kwan directed episodes of Minority Report (2015 TV) and the series Interior Chinatown (2024), adapting Charles Yu’s novel with Jimmy O. Yang. Scheinert helmed Bill & Ted Face the Music (2020), reviving the 80s duo with Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter, blending nostalgia with fresh absurdity.

Daniels’ partnership thrives on shared absurdism influenced by Michel Gondry and Spike Jonze. Post-Everything Everywhere All at Once, Kwan penned the script for The Gelatins, a horror-comedy, while Scheinert explores music projects. Their filmography includes shorts like JK Wedding Entrance Dance (viral hit), Possibly in Michigan (1983 remix), and collaborations on HBO’s Random Acts of Flyness (2018). Awards abound: Daniels snagged Oscars for Directing and Best Picture for Everything Everywhere, plus Independent Spirit nods. They advocate for diverse storytelling, mentoring Asian filmmakers through production company M89 Films.

Key works: Swiss Army Man (2016, dir./write: flatulence-powered adventure); Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022, dir./write: multiverse epic); Scheinert’s Bill & Ted Face the Music (2020, dir.: time-travel comedy); Kwan’s Interior Chinatown (2024, dir.: meta LA noir). Their influences span John Hughes teen angst to Wong Kar-wai romance, fused with Gen-Z irreverence.

Actor/Character in the Spotlight

Michelle Yeoh, born Yeoh Chu-Kheng on 6 August 1962 in Ipoh, Malaysia, began as a ballet dancer trained at the Royal Academy of Dance in London. Crowned Miss Malaysia 1983, she pivoted to film in Hong Kong, debuting in action vehicles opposite Jackie Chan in Police Story 3: Supercop (1992). Her breakthrough came with Heroic Trio (1993), showcasing gravity-defying stunts that established her as a martial arts icon.

Hollywood beckoned with Tomorrow Never Dies (1997) as Bond girl Wai Lin, followed by Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000), earning BAFTA and Golden Globe nods. She navigated typecasting via Memoirs of a Geisha (2005), Sunshine (2007 sci-fi), and Crazy Rich Asians (2018), a box-office smash. Recent triumphs include Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021 MCU) and her Oscar-winning turn as Evelyn in Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022), plus SAG and Critics’ Choice awards.

Yeoh’s career spans The Soong Sisters (1997, dir. Mabel Cheung: historical drama); Pushing Hands (1992, Ang Lee debut); Kung Fu Panda 2 (2011 voice); Marco Polo (2014-16 Netflix series); Star Trek: Section 31 (upcoming). Knighted by France (2007) and Malaysia (2022 Dato’ Sri), she champions women’s roles in action. Evelyn Wang, her defining character, embodies Yeoh’s resilience, drawing from personal motherhood and cultural heritage, transforming multiverse mayhem into a legacy of empowerment.

Filmography highlights: Yes, Madam! (1985, action debut); Wing Chun (1994); The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor (2008); Tiger & Dragon (2012); Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 (2017 post-credits); Last Christmas (2019). At 61, Yeoh remains a force, blending grace with grit.

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Bibliography

Chang, J. (2022) ‘Everything Everywhere All at Once review’, Variety, 13 March. Available at: variety.com/review/everything-everywhere-all-at-once/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Daniels (2022) Interview with Collider, 25 March. Available at: collider.com/daniels-everything-everywhere-all-at-once-interview/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Grobar, M. (2022) ‘Michelle Yeoh on Everything Everywhere All at Once’, Deadline, 22 September. Available at: deadline.com/2022/09/michelle-yeoh-everything-everywhere-all-at-once-interview-1235130575/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Quan, K.H. (2023) ‘Ke Huy Quan reflects on return’, Entertainment Weekly, 10 January. Available at: ew.com/ke-huy-quan-everything-everywhere-interview-7504564 (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Schug, J. (2022) Production design notes, American Cinematographer, May. Available at: theasc.com/magazine/may2022 (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Travers, P. (2022) ‘The Best Movie of the Year?’, Rolling Stone, 14 March. Available at: rollingstone.com/tv-movies/tv-movie-reviews/everything-everywhere-all-at-once-review-michelle-yeoh-1315072/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

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