t a time where the movie landscape is dominated by adaptations and franchises, the wildly original Everything Everything All At Once has managed to come screaming through the noise for a reason: it’s a bonafide masterpiece. It’s not just the Daniels’ confident direction, the inventive sci-fi ideas, the exhilarating action scenes, or the cast so incredible that they consist of more than one of the year’s best performances – although, it’s got all of that too. But what really makes it the kind of once-in-a-generation triumph that it is is its stunning emotional core, a surprising brand of hopeful nihilism that makes it, amidst everything else, endlessly inspiring.

The premise is simple enough… until it’s, well, very much not. But it all starts with Michelle Yeoh’s unhappy and overwhelmed Evelyn, whose laundromat is being audited by the IRS, just as she’s also about to be hit by divorce papers. It’s not until Evelyn gets recruited to connect with various versions of herself to stop a powerful being from destroying the multiverse that Everything Everywhere All At Once becomes the ambitious explosion of genres that it is.

As an action movie, it takes inspiration from countless martial arts classics, creating some of the most memorable fight scenes in years. The fight choreography that actors like Yeoh, Ke Huy Quan, Stephanie Hsu, and Jamie Lee Curtis pull off is impressive in itself – the fact that they’re sometimes swinging around fanny packs or dildo nunchunks is icing on the cake. It’s in these moments where the directing duo of the Daniels can’t help themselves from weaving in some of their finest toilet humor; it’s true that, through it all, Everything Everywhere is consistently hilarious.

And then there’s the multiverse of it all, which certainly isn’t a new concept to us here in 2022. But Everything Everywhere All At Once uses its big sci-fi ideas to tell a poignant, intimate story about a woman who is, by the very nature of the plot, the most unfulfilled version of herself. While its often frantic camera movements and shifts in the multiverse capture Evelyn’s undiagnosed ADHD, her journey through her own perceived missteps is a crushingly brutal depiction of depression. At first glance, the movie’s messaging that nothing really matters looks like a cynical one until it reveals its true theme: that if nothing matters, the only thing that really does is the way you treat those around you. It never buckles under the weight of despair; instead, it creates one of the most cleverly hopeful movies you’ll ever see.

All these big ideas are anchored by its actors, some of whom deliver career highlights in their already thoroughly impressive careers. There was no better choice for a lead than Yeoh, who both carries the weight of Evelyn’s frustration and regret while masterfully pulling off the countless other Evelyns she encounters, as either silly or profound as they may be. But she’s not alone; Ke Huy Quan is the movie’s consistent heart as Evelyn’s timid husband Waymond, as well as his smooth multiversal counterpart. And you can’t forget Stephanie Hsu, who manages to be a breakout star amidst the veterans.

In short, it has everything, everywhere, all at once, and it’s IGN’s pick for the best movie of 2022.