Review: Knit’s Island at Antenna Documentary Film Festival
Addy Fong reviewed Knit’s Island at Antenna Documentary Film Festival. Here are her thoughts:
‘I don’t see a big harm in video games, but I see a real danger in your feeling of what’s interesting in the world being completely usurped by virtual realities’
Masahiro Mori, professor at the Tokyo Institute of Technology first termed the phrase ‘”uncanny valley” in 1970 to describe the eerie, uneasy feeling we encounter when we meet robots with human-like characteristics. With the current rise of AI, VR in society, our fear of this potential technological takeover which could supposedly threaten ‘the way things are’ there is this uncertainty in this fear of the unknown which runs in parallel with the joy of discovery and possibility. Perhaps this fear isn’t related to the rise of our supposed ‘Robot Overlords’ but more so the challenge brought in from how our traditional ways of thinking are challenged through many variables and ways of perceiving the world.
Directed by Ekiem Barbier, Guilhem Causse, and Quentin L’Helgouac’h, Knit’s Island is a documentary shot entirely in a virtual environment composing of 129 hours of gameplay carefully curated by filmmakers to present audiences with deeper challenges and considerations touching on aspects of social and cognitive psychology, and how we choose to present ourselves online. Including in-game interviews with subjects communicating with documentary filmmakers through their avatars, an observation of choice, the film that results is an interesting dive into the world of potential make-belief, in game, creating a compelling piece of work.
I was intrigued by the potential new ways stories could be told and how techniques could be creatively utilised or adopted through watching Knit’s Island, observing how filmmakers craft narrative, and how I as the viewer felt watching. Personally, I enjoy breaking down and analysing the components of what makes a film or any piece of art in general, both in relation to story and technical execution, for there is an unspoken magical quality we can feel when it all just seems to come together. Curious, I asked myself what it means to explore the techniques of filmmaking in a virtual world, and if I too could adopt this in some way if possible in my own creative practice as I sought inspiration from this seemingly new form of documentary which despite its seemingly alternate presentation is still familiar, playing homage to traditional forms of cinema and documentary, including the use of shot types to convey emotion, interviews with subjects to help audiences learn new information about the world presented, and the ability to tell a story. The common language of filmmaking as told on screen is this sort of visual language that feels universal, and we can all connect with. Trying to break down how a film works and reverse engineer it is something I often find myself doing, however Knit’s Island presents us not just a technical question but a philosophical one. To merge gameplay footage and repackage it as a film had me questioning the definition of what makes a film and what makes a documentary. What results is a compelling and interesting dive into the world of multiplayer online gaming, exploring social dynamics, and blurring the line between documentary, gameplay, filmmaking, and realism.
Speaking generally, as I’m no expert, games are interesting, at its basic concept the parallels of gameplay and real life is the series of choices individuals are able to make and the impact those choices may have on others. It’s a deep dive into the human psyche, our desire for expression and the liberation of anonymity, with gameplay perhaps allowing humans to express themselves truly and explore the darker parts of their character. The debate of whether playing violent video games or watching violent movies is healthy or a hindrance for impressionable young people is a debate that has gone on for ages. Does seeing violence on screen desensitise or prime viewers to acts of violence? What responsibility do creators or artists hold regarding the actions of their audiences or players? This debate is never ending and opens up a can of worms. In one sense I can understand the need for expression these mediums provide as addressed by those in game design and film theory, but the casual nature of slightly sadistic comments made by players interviewed in the film caused a bit of concern in my mind. The film made me wonder whether our true and perhaps ‘evil’ selves are made prominent when we can hide behind this veil of secrecy, this lack of perceived consequence, and this narcissistic or inflated sense of self, is something that gameplay and/or film watching allows us to do. Anonymity in games such as Knit’s Island allows people to get away with immoral acts and this so-called, ‘victimless crime’ is acceptable because after all, if you look at it in one sense, it’s just pixels on screen.
The now infamous 1971 Stanford Prison Experiment, where the psychologists ‘intended to measure the effect of role-playing, labelling, and social expectations on behaviour over a period of two weeks’ is an interesting case study on group social behaviour. Unsurprisingly, the experiment had to be shut down early due to the horrific nature of the behaviour seen between the guards and the prisoners, the abuse of power made prominent as the participants took on their roles throughout the week and fantasy quickly became reality. Aspects of multiplayer gameplay in games such as Knit’s Island echo this social behaviour as the relevance of the findings from the Stanford Prison Experiment recontextualised in the online gaming world, and seen many decades later, are still a consideration for us in how we behave in group settings. In a culture that is now predominantly online, the internet can be seen as the wild wild west, a place of untapped possibility but also a place of potential danger and cause for harm.
‘You don’t really know how deep your darkside goes until you’ve dominated a few people. You should embrace what this is, the whole thing is a social experiment. This game specifically allows for such diverse interactions.’ These so-called ‘social experiments’ or pranks, and diverse interactions games or films present me with this uncomfortable justification of things I allow or support by choosing to consume them. Despite my resistance due to my personally held morals, I find I’m still a participant.
An interesting contrast is presented when we hear a woman’s voice say, ‘We do whatever the fuck we want and when we want and how we want.’ Filmmakers Barbier, Causse, and L’Helgouac’h, present us with visuals of a group of masked people in guns and a man dressed in pink objectified, sexualised even, in this virtual world of Knit’s Island. ‘We like chaos, we like destruction, we like all the shiny things. Basically, everything we see belongs to us.’ The power play and dominance of the supposedly oppressed gender, the feminine, is shown here and almost flipped on its head. In one sense the portrayal of strong, no-nonsense female players in Knit’s Island is liberating because it challenges the trope of the passive and typically subdued, allowing for a seemingly healthy expression of self, but in another other sense when this expressiveness has the risk of harming others and risks shifting our perception in how we see others and to me, this is scary.
There is a horror observed in the madness the of power or control certain players have in the game, enhanced by the game’s soundtrack of dissonant chords which evokes this feeling of uneasiness when merged with sounds of violence, gunshots, overlapping conversation, abrupt animation, and the harsh howling of the wind. The sound of gunshots can be a psychological trigger for many, an unsurprising shock to viewers, which is why a strange comfort can be found when audiences are quickly brought back to reality when they realise, they are watching a film or playing a game.
Knit’s Island often varies between first person POV, tracking shots, and observational footage inviting viewers to jump into this strange suspension of disbelief which is felt throughout. Perhaps due to the uncanny valley this suspension of disbelief created through fantasy, our desire for escapism, an aspect shared in both game playing and film watching worlds. Story and personal engagement is what compels audiences or players to feel engaged within a particular narrative; you’re invested in the story and willing to look past the clearly unrealistic graphics, until the camera cuts abruptly or zooms in and you quickly realise you’re but a mere observer watching gameplay footage playout on screen. Paraphrasing a saying I’ve heard often on the art of editing; it’s often said that a good edit is when cuts or edits go unnoticed because the edit matches the story told and it ‘feels’ natural to how we perceive the world around us. Gameplay footage used in Knit’s Island is edited through the eyes of filmmakers who understand the visual medium, carefully curating footage to compose the story. I found the use of gameplay for storytelling interesting, the suspension of disbelief in trying to work out new ways of storytelling, narrative forms, and the blur between documentary, interactivity of which gameplay or the game format ascribes to, and the so-called limitation of the cinema and storytelling in which audiences are passive.
As per most online games the graphics will never be the best, being limited to internet bandwidth, computer processing speeds, and graphic refresh rates, along with the syncing of time schedules to coordinate meetups in the online virtual environment. These real-life limitations will always exist, with the film hinting at this aspect by showing the game play where the filmmaker’s avatars needed to travel to certain in-game locations to meet their interviewees or having meetings rescheduled due to internet issues caused by a damaged undersea cable.
Being composed of in-game footage presents this dilemma, a confusion in the structure or definition of what a game is and what a film is, as we navigate between the passivity of the cinema experience, sitting in seats, showcasing gameplay, a medium which is interactive and invites players to engage. A criticism of Knit’s Island would be that despite the gimmick of the film being entirely composed of gameplay footage which drew my attention at first, slowly the film starts to feel exhausting and loses the ability to keep my interest overtime due to the similarity of video game graphics seen during the film’s duration. This perhaps is more so to do with my shorter attention span these days more than anything. As I was made aware of this upon self-reflection, I was able to appreciate seeing the bonds formed amongst players, the filmmakers included, who logged many hours together and shared in this common experience where collective goals are achieved through play.
‘I only wanted to play a game and I realised that I can’t escape my life to games but there are lovely things, it’s nice to know people all over the world. We always joke that we are like weird internet friends, and it would be awkward to meet them in real life. I would feel really shy.’
Thinking about the online world of streamers, gamers, an exclusively online world we’ve all established, perhaps Knit’s Island isn’t just a film merely about gaming but a film about this sense of community forged when players meet within the multiplayer space. The joy of multiplayer gameplay seems to be the shared comradery of forming bonds or friendships, of establishing trust built upon simple tasks no matter how silly it may seem. In the same way perhaps the cinema experience is the same, the shared consumption of content is what unites us. As absurd as Knit’s Island felt at times, as strange as watching gameplay on screen presented as a documentary was, I think I understood what the message the filmmakers wanted to convey to their audience. Perhaps it is this: all of us share a similar perspective or desire, everyone desires social interaction in some form or another, and to form some sort of connection. Whether it be in playing online video games, watching films in a cinema, participating in community groups, in religion, in sports, in education, whatever it is that works for well for the individual, once they have found their social group, it’s a delight, and this is something to be celebrated.
Knit’s Island is screening Feb 10th and 16th, at Dendy Newtown.
Review by Addy Fong.
