Movie Review: “Everything Everywhere All At Once” - Through an ADHD Lens

If you’ve ever felt like life was spinning out of control—overwhelmed by endless demands, tangled in the complexities of family, or drowning in the “what-ifs” of paths not taken—then Everything Everywhere All at Once will feel less like a movie and more like someone unpacking your very soul on screen.

The story follows Evelyn Wang, a stressed-out laundromat owner who is too busy worrying about everything to focus on anything. She’s consumed by the endless list of things that need to get done: taxes, customers, her crumbling marriage, and her fracturing relationship with her daughter. Watching her, I was reminded of those times in my own life when I’ve felt disconnected—lost in my thoughts, detached from the people I love, and unable to express what’s really on my mind. Evelyn’s struggle is all too real, and that’s before the multiverse comes crashing in.

The Stress of Everything

From the start, the film captures that relentless pressure of everything. Evelyn is constantly wound up, with no time to deal with her own emotions, let alone connect with her husband, Waymond, who is on the brink of giving up. His quiet plea for a divorce feels like both a cry for help and a reflection of how much he still loves her. He’s not the kind to make demands, but his frustration is palpable—he just wants to feel seen. Meanwhile, Evelyn escapes into distractions, much like how I’ve found myself zoning out to avoid facing the harder truths.

And then there’s her daughter, Joy—her saviour and her destroyer all rolled into one. Joy is carrying her own burdens, but Evelyn struggles to understand her pain, instead pushing her to fit into a mould that’s breaking both of them. That dynamic hit me hard, particularly as a parent myself. There’s such a desperate love in Evelyn’s actions, but it’s misguided, and it’s a feeling I know too well: wanting the best for someone but not knowing how to give it without pushing too hard.

A Bagel, An Umbrella, and Chaos in the Tax Office

The multiverse enters Evelyn’s life with all the subtlety of a punch to the face. In the IRS office, holding her bagel umbrella and wearing headphones, Evelyn experiences her first “verse jump”—a moment that literally flashes her life before her eyes. It’s disorienting, ridiculous, and somehow feels exactly like the chaos of an overstimulated mind. That moment reminded me of how easy it is to get carried away with drama in your own head, imagining the worst in situations. Evelyn punches an IRS agent in the nose, misreading a kind gesture as a threat—a moment of misplaced fury I’ve also been guilty of in my own way.

From there, the film takes off into madness. Waymond, normally the gentle and almost invisible husband, suddenly becomes this incredible force of improvisation and adaptability. Watching him chew through a pink chap stick, to find that “file makeup” gives him Immense power, to then wielding a bum bag as a weapon was both hilarious and thought provoking—it’s a perfect metaphor for putting on a mask before fighting our battles (physical of otherwise), to making the best of what you have, no matter how ridiculous it seems. Evelyn is impressed by him in this moment, and honestly, so was I.

The Multiverse as a Mirror

As Evelyn begins to navigate the multiverse, she’s shown glimpses of lives she could have lived: martial artist, movie star, chef. It’s the ultimate “what could have been” moment, something I’ve often caught myself dwelling on—especially in those quiet hours where regret creeps in. She even sees a life without Waymond, and while it’s natural to long for other possibilities, the film never loses sight of the beauty in the life she already has. That hit me squarely in the chest.

But the multiverse isn’t just about wishful thinking. It’s also about survival—about learning to fight the chaos. Evelyn’s battles are raw and weird, using whatever tools she can improvise. A riot shield becomes a pizza sign; a moment of inspiration leads to paper cuts as weapons. It’s ridiculous, sure, but it’s also a profound reminder of how we all make do with what we have, especially when we’re pushed to our limits.

The Bagel and Generational Pain

Then there’s the bagel—the “everything bagel” that Joy creates to symbolise the crushing void of depression and nihilism. Watching Joy spiral into that emptiness was like looking at so many people I care about, people who’ve faced their own battles with mental health and identity. Evelyn realises that her daughter doesn’t need fixing; she needs understanding. And that starts with Evelyn facing her own fractured mind.

The bagel scene is where it all comes full circle. Evelyn and Joy, once locked in conflict, finally join hands to confront the void together. It’s not about solving everything—it’s about being there for each other in the stillness, even as the world spins madly around them. The rock scene, where mother and daughter sit silently in a barren landscape, is one of the most profound moments in the film. No words, no noise—just a quiet understanding.

Chaos, Connection, and Acceptance

The film’s message is clear: life is messy, chaotic, and often absurd, but it’s also full of love, connection, and beauty—if you’re willing to see it. Evelyn learns to embrace the chaos, to use it as a superpower rather than fight it. She stops trying to make everyone happy and starts focusing on what really matters: the people she loves and the life she’s built, imperfect as it may be.

By the end, Evelyn finally lets herself be. She accepts her husband’s kindness, her daughter’s individuality, and even her own shortcomings. The multiverse might have shown her infinite possibilities, but it’s her messy, complicated, ordinary life that becomes her greatest source of strength.

Final Thoughts

Everything Everywhere All at Once isn’t just a film—it’s an experience. It’s messy and chaotic, but that’s the point. It doesn’t just entertain; it forces you to reflect on your own life, your own choices, and the relationships you hold dear. For me, it felt deeply personal, like someone had tapped into the chaotic, overstimulated parts of my brain and turned them into art.