Easily comparable to Anna Delvey in many ways, what Elizabeth Holmes managed to do with her own scam was obviously much worse. For it put the lives of millions of Americans in extreme danger. And not just any lives, but those of “the commoners.” Whereas Delvey is somewhat more “revered” because she made a fool out of rich people instead… and without even really jeopardizing their lives, so much as their precious bank accounts. Like Delvey, however, Holmes would also end up making a lot of rich people look very stupid. The difference was, she did it while in the prominent position of CEO. A title still so rarely held by women.
And it’s one of the points that Elizabeth Meriwether’s The Dropout reiterates time and time again. The idea that Holmes really fucked over the very gender she was positioned as a champion of by being so dishonest and devil-may-care in her dealings. Making the assumption that her lies and deception wouldn’t be held up as far more of a beacon to represent women (particularly “women in tech”) as a whole than her “accomplishments” as a CEO ever were.
Like most scammers, Holmes seemed to have no issue with running her game because she convinced herself of her own lies. “If you believe it, you can achieve it”—and all that rot. That’s why she doesn’t even bat an eyelash during a conference (shown during episode six, “Iron Sisters”) when her interviewer mentions, “You know, a lot of successful women experience something called Imposter Syndrome.” Holmes (Amanda Seyfried) agrees, “Right.” The interviewer continues, “Where they feel that none of their success is actually earned. That it’s all a fraud and they will eventually be found out. Have you ever experienced that?” She uses the question to her advantage by repurposing it into some sort of feminist cause by replying, “Yeah, sure. There are always moments of doubt…but as women, we have to start believing in ourselves and we have to start today!” Her generic platitudes, especially in retrospect, make one wonder how she ever could have been bought into for so long. With one of the first people who did not fall for the smoke and mirrors being a female professor at Stanford named Phyllis Gardner (Laurie Metcalf). Naturally, Elizabeth uses Gardner’s flat rejection of her initial idea as impossible to position it as some form of jealousy on an “old” woman’s part that she doesn’t have to struggle as much just because women in Gardner’s generation did. Indeed, a large aspect of why Holmes was able to succeed at her scam was due to a certain boomer fear of being left in the dust by the new generation’s form of “progress” (read: startup companies that didn’t actually “make” anything).
This interpretation on Elizabeth’s part might have stemmed from the kernel of shade in Gardner telling her, “People your age need to remember that machines make mistakes too, especially when humans are operating them.” But Elizabeth isn’t content to take Gardner’s solid counsel about the idea being totally unworkable, running after her to plead, “I just thought, as a woman, you—” Gardner cuts her off with the reality check, “Well, as a woman, let me explain something to you. You don’t get to skip any steps. You have to do the work. Your work, other people’s work, you have to do so much work that they have to admit that you did it and nobody helped you. You have to take away all their excuses. And then if you get anything—anything—wrong, they’ll destroy you. And they’ll be happy to do it. So no, as a woman, I can’t help you right now.”
Elizabeth, in this moment, is still in very clear denial of the very real information Gardner is providing her with. Including a shutdown of Elizabeth’s favorite platitude, “Do or do not. There is no try” (a Yoda aphorism that will later appear in giant letters in the lobby of Theranos). Gardner takes the chance, after Elizabeth chases her, to then advise, “And just one other thing. Don’t ever quote Yoda to anybody ever again. Science is trying. That’s all that it is. You only get to really do something when you’ve been trying for so long that doing doesn’t even seem possible anymore.” But one can’t tell that to a Veruca Salt-esque millennial. Especially not one looking to “throw herself into a project” like Elizabeth after being sexually assaulted at a frat party. A trauma that isn’t helped by her mother, Noel (Elizabeth Marvel), insisting, “You just put it away and forget it. And then one day…one day, you’ll just be fine again.” Not exactly the soundest advice, as it would turn out—for Holmes would go on to use that instruction to apply it to certain key pieces of health information regarding the efficacy (or lack thereof) of Theranos’ products.
“I can’t get anyone to believe me,” Elizabeth tells her mother regarding her attempt to report the rape and seek disciplinary action for the perpetrator. In this sense, it’s almost as though duping an entire country was recompense for that one instance of not getting people to believe her when it mattered most.
Incidentally, Erika Cheung (Camyrn Mi-Young), who worked for Theranos as a researcher and ended up blowing the whistle on its “improprieties” (to say the least), went to Berkeley and tells a similar story to Elizabeth’s. One she confesses in The Dropout to co-whistleblower Tyler Shultz (Dylan Minnette). Reluctantly, she admits, “I got assaulted. I almost dropped out. And I don’t know… I stayed.” One, of course, wonders if this itself isn’t an undercutting statement on the lily-livered nature of white girls from a privileged background. Dropping out instead of “soldiering forward,” the way BIPOC women are automatically expected to in moments of trauma, lest they blow their entire chance at something bigger by choosing to succumb to the temptation of stumbling and falling, so to speak. Another filmic example of this form of white feminism bleeding into pop culture occurs in Promising Young Woman, when Cassie’s (Carey Mulligan) best friend, Nina (who we never actually see onscreen), drops out of college after being sexually assaulted.
Elizabeth subsequently enjoys the benefits of being believed on every level once she gets male backing to support her. The absurdity of how willing the masses are to believe her claims is brought up in Gardner’s later demand to Elizabeth’s former next-door neighbor, Richard Fuisz (William H. Macy), “Why does everybody wanna believe in this girl so badly?” Richard retorts, “Because. She’s pretty and blonde.” And that’s not a totally off answer (even though Holmes isn’t quite as aesthetically pleasing as she’s been made out to be).
But Rochelle Gibbons (Kate Burton), the widow of Ian (Stephen Fry)—the chemist who killed himself at Theranos’ hands—has a better explanation: “She’s a symbol of feminist progress. She makes the men in tech and business feel good…without challenging them.” And it’s a totally on-the-mark-assessment of what it means to be a “good (white) feminist.” Never challenging too much, only doing so simply by appearing in an industry that one might not otherwise usually see a woman in. That in and of itself is meant to embody “progress” and “equality.”
Being that white feminism relies so heavily on (white) male backing, the seventh episode, “Heroes,” is one of many to highlight just how much men were on Elizabeth’s side throughout this entire charade. Opening in 2015 with Holmes being interviewed by Bill Clinton and then Joe Biden singing her praises, it’s evident that the validation of many old white men in power (including George Shultz [Sam Waterson]) held the key to Holmes staying on top for so long. And what that really says about old white men, of course, is that they’re the most clueless (and amoral) of all.
But men weren’t the only ones fooled, to be sure. Many women at Holmes’ company looked up to her, admired her by sheer virtue of having a vag. And as “2 Legit 2 Quit” by MC Hammer plays in a manner that only viewers of The Dropout can appreciate as sardonic, she takes the stage to give another motivational speech to her employees, amounting to all style and no substance. Yet another way in which Holmes has set back the feminist cause by proving that “all women” are ultimately frivolous. Wielding candy and confetti as a distraction from the fact that she has no idea what she’s doing.
Worst of all, Holmes plays the card of “sexism” every time something doesn’t go her way—a.k.a. whenever her illegitimacy is rightly called out. For example, in the final episode, “Lizzy,” she insists of the damning Wall Street Journal article from John Carreyou (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), “Well, it’s sexism. This reporter clearly has an issue with women. Women in power… And because of his sexist reporting, I’m now the target of all sorts of harassment.”
With Phyllis later confronting her in the penultimate episode about just how much she’s ruined things for other women with a non-fraudulent idea, Meriwether noted, “Phyllis, for me in the series, became the voice of women in the sciences and other female founders, (underlining) the effect that Elizabeth had on a field that is so male-dominated. In the end, that’s what Phyllis says to her: ‘You’ve hurt a lot of women trying to (start companies) just by causing this scandal.’” And obviously, what does it still say about gender inequality that one white woman’s fuck-up has the ability to ruin it for other women for perhaps decades to come? Hence, an epilogue of a title card for The Dropout reading: “Female entrepreneurs in Silicon Valley still struggle to find investors in the wake of the Theranos scandal. One female founder was told to dye her hair so she looked less like Elizabeth Holmes.”
On the plus side, one supposes, at least Holmes never said anything to the effect of Jane Campion’s insistence to women of color, “You do not play against the guys like I have to.”
