Everything I Ever Wanted to Tell My Daughter About Men made its world premiere at Austin Film Festival recently, to an audience of Texans who, as of September 1st, must comply with governor Abbott’s Heartbeat Act: a law that bans abortions at six weeks, before many women know they are pregnant. I can’t say how every member of this audience might feel about this historic law, nor can I say how they might feel after viewing this film, but I find it hard to imagine that someone would watch this film and feel absolutely nothing. In the post-Me Too era of cinema, filmmakers and production studios have made clear attempts to feature more female-driven narratives, though it’s still rare to find a film that feels completely untouched by the patriarchy. It’s rare for a film about trauma to be told without gratuitous pain or anguish, but instead with a sense of purity and patience and raw emotion. Everything I Ever Wanted to Tell My Daughter About Men, a project borne out of 23 short films, 1 play, and 21 female directors, proved that such a film can exist.
Everything I Ever Wanted follows an unnamed woman (Lorien Haynes) who wishes to go over every man, mistake, and meddlesome lesson-learned with her daughter, in the hopes that she will take a different path, or at the very least, be prepared. The Woman has lived a full, storied life, comprised of good men and bad, each romantic and sexual experience bringing with them a valuable lesson. After she’s been sexually assaulted, she’s forced to go to therapy and finally suss out all of the detritus and damage she’s carried with her over the years — bringing about a reconciliation between The Woman and her daughter, and between The Woman and the girl she used to be. Through each chapter in this woman’s life we see her fumble and flourish and find her way back to herself.
Though Everything I Ever Wanted is a story told by 21 directors, each bit of this story blends seamlessly together in perfect harmony. This is the story of one woman, but as the film progresses, the universality of its message and meaning becomes evident. By positioning its protagonist as an unnamed woman with a diverse romantic and sexual history, Everything I Ever Wanted tells a hauntingly familiar tale for feminine beings everywhere. We’re introduced to each of this woman’s past lovers through several segments — featuring Jason Isaacs, Nathan Fillion, James Purefoy, Ben Lawson, and many more — each one detailing the love, lust, and languishing that comes with opening up your life to another. Each intimate, abusive, tumultuous account of this woman’s emotional reckoning was more compelling than the last, and held no shortage of heartbreak, humor, and clarity within them.
This is a film about many things relating to womanhood, but the most significant theme of this film is its relation to choice. The Woman is, at times, flawed or selfish in her decision-making, but when it comes to the topic of abortion, Everything I Ever Wanted is firm in its casualness. The Woman’s abortion is just one speed bump on road that features far more challenging certainties than her right to choose, none more frightening than her eventual assault. The subjugation and objectification of women is a cruel truth that this film catalogues well, without relying upon indiscriminate depictions of torture and rape, or heavy soul-searching pertaining to abortion, which are often staples in films surrounding this issue. Everything I Ever Wanted instead handles this topic with care: delicately but succinctly portraying the beauty of nostalgia, the pain of past trauma, and the freight of femininity. However, despite its rough subject matter, this is a film that remains lovely and lucid throughout. Its cinematography and editing style created an environment of calm amid its story of calamity and though it may be troubling to some, Everything I Ever Wanted is a film that demands to be seen, heard, and understood. This is not a film of easily-marketed moxie or female empowerment, but one of reality, redemption, and resolution.
