​​All About the Money (2026) ‘Sundance’ Documentary Review: An Illuminating Account of How Wealth Wires Your Brain 

Sinéad O’Shea’s “All About the Money” follows a peculiar story of an extremely wealthy man who hopes for a communist revolution in a country known for its unwavering devotion to capitalism. On one hand, it seemingly plays into the narratives spun by the capitalists about leftist ideologies, making them seem like only a rich man’s game, while promoting capitalism as the only source of true hope for the masses. The irony isn’t lost on whoever is even sufficiently informed. However, the curious case that O’Shea brings to the surface isn’t about the flaws in communist ideologies. It’s about them being used by someone who seems to be a walking paradox.

The subject of O’Shea’s documentary, Fergie Chambers, can talk about his theoretical understanding of the ideology all day, but his musings barely scratch the surface. As someone who didn’t know anything about Chambers, let alone his revolutionary base in the United States, his story sounded similar to that of The Strokes-fame Julian Casablancas, a man born in a similarly privileged background, but who gradually became invested in progressive politics, or at least made his investment known to people. He has shown support for the BDS movement and been critical of the bipartisan nature of his country’s politics, owing to the commitment of several politicians on both sides of the aisle to thorny capitalism.

On paper, Chambers appears similar to Casablancas, at least in the early parts of the documentary, where his idealistic notions seem inspirational and at least a bit naive at the same time. O’Shea guides us through his personal history as he opens up about being born into one of the wealthiest families in the country. He reveals that people barely knew about the extent of their privileges since the family maintained a modest appearance, keeping people farthest from that knowledge. Unlike them, he refuses to hold on to those secrets, instead making them public knowledge, while also exposing himself to a barrage of scrutiny or humiliation.

In an almost Robin Hood-like fashion, he decides to help the needy after acquiring a large chunk of his familial wealth through generational privilege. He does so through a base in Massachusetts, where he provides housing with benefits to people with left-wing politics. In its infancy, he considers this model to offer a healthier alternative to capitalism, where people can engage in a free exchange of thought without the fear of rent or bills. His ancestral wealth, to him, seems enough to keep it afloat for a long time, but you start noticing the cracks in his approach to communism as you follow him through this journey.

On one hand, you see him humanely helping people with a life that they deserve, but you can’t help but see the signs of his background seeping into his being. It doesn’t lead you to the tired capitalist critique about a progressive world being unfeasible, but to the aspect of capital being at play in any case. In order to make any system work, we must be able to hold those in power accountable. O’Shea does so tirelessly, as she documents the ups and downs in Chambers’ life and its effects on people living at his base while being empathetic whenever need be.

In the documentary, we see Chambers speak with the confidence of a whistleblower, exposing the big bad of the big bad. Yet, a similar financial background puts him in a position of power, resulting in a fight-or-flight response that only a few can access without apprehension. O’Shea sheds light on his flaws even through his silences, not as a means of character assassination but to analyze the power of wealth.

Subtext matters in everything she presents throughout ninety minutes of this character-driven tale that inadvertently underlines the failings of our capitalistic world. She explores a seething anger toward this system, often parading as humanitarian while failing to support the very people it is supposed to, and the resulting disillusionment, compelling people to look for an equitable alternative where everyone’s needs are met, and struggle isn’t a permanent condition of one’s existence.

There’s a point in the film where Chambers says the very thing said in the title, as a derision, coming from a place of self-pity. It sounds like the kind of thing that would seamlessly fit in the recent wave of eat-the-rich-themed dark comedies. You will hear Glen Powell’s character saying something similar in a recent teaser for his new film, quenching his capitalistic ambitions in a “No Other Choice”-like fashion. The sleekness of its aesthetic might make many overlook the dark comedic undertone of desperation or helplessness, leading people to take this no-holds-barred lifestyle.

You may feel pity for those characters due to that context, which also matters in O’Shea’s documentary, where appearances don’t always lead you to the truth. A person living at his base also brings up a similar topic when speaking about liberals, at least American liberals, whose noble appearances don’t go hand in hand with constructive action. This makes them look like the endearing committee from the good place in Michael Schur’s “The Good Place.”

O’Shea probes into each base member’s struggles sufficiently to offer a comprehensive portrait of the rising hunger for justice and constructive action, arising in the US, and a grounded understanding of their quest, barring any form of sensationalism, which the topic of her documentary may have led someone else to.

Sinéad O’Shea’s ‘All About the Money’ is a part of the 2026 Sundance Film Festival.

​​All About the Money (2026) Documentary Links: IMDb, Letterboxd