The Remarkable Life of Ibelin
After Mats, a Norwegian gamer, passed away from a degenerative muscle disease he had battled since birth, his parents were left mourning a life they believed had been wasted—one spent in front of a screen, isolated and disconnected from meaningful human relationships. They saw his life as lonely, defined by the virtual world of gaming rather than real-world connections. But when they posted about his death on Mat's Musing on Life, they were overwhelmed by an outpouring of messages from people who had been touched by him. In the online community of World of Warcraft, Mats had forged deep bonds and impacted countless lives.
The Remarkable Life of Ibelin is a new documentary that tells Mats’s story through the digital archive of his World of Warcraft character, Ibelin. The film brings his life to the screen with animations inspired by the game’s world, voiceover narrations drawn from chat logs, and heartfelt interviews with the friends he made over the years. Through these elements, the documentary paints a vivid portrait of how Mats found purpose, freedom, and connection in a virtual space.
I don’t often cry during movies, but there was something so powerful about how this film unfolded that it brought me to tears multiple times. Even though the animation was based on a game I’ve never played, I felt deeply connected to Mats’s journey—his story transcended the pixels and code of the game. It was a beautiful and emotional experience that has stayed with me long after watching.
The Remarkable Life of Ibelin is both heartbreaking and heartwarming. Amid the endless stories about digital isolation, misinformation, and disconnection, this film offers a refreshing and hopeful reminder of how technology, at its best, can fulfill its promise of bringing people together, fostering real relationships, and offering a sense of belonging.
The Remarkable Life of Ibelin is now streaming on Netflix.
The Dream Team
From the opening credits of Dream Team, I knew I was in for a strange and unique ride—and I was right. Watching it unlocked a memory from my childhood, one of late-night channel surfing in the '90s, when I’d stumble upon shows that felt a little bit dangerous, like I was watching something I shouldn’t be. Shows like La Femme Nikita or Silk Stalkings on USA and TNT come to mind—programming that felt just edgy enough to make me wonder if I was breaking some unspoken rule. It’s no surprise, then, that The Dream Team draws heavily from this era, from its structure—broken into episodic vignettes—to the unmistakable tone. This feeling is also reminiscent of what I felt during producer, Jane Schoenbrun’s, I Saw the TV Glow, a film that stirred up similar nostalgia for the media that shaped my youth.
Dream Team uses this vintage, late-night TV aesthetic to tell a surreal, science fiction story. It follows two West Coast Interpol agents as they investigate increasingly bizarre and dangerous occurrences in their community—from a deadly coral wreaking havoc on locals to a mysterious, invisible person seeking revenge.
This is a gritty film, shot on a shoestring budget, with a deliberately rough look. The acting is exaggerated, almost soap opera-esque, and yet that’s exactly what makes it work. The film’s raw, unpolished quality becomes part of its charm. It's this very combination of low-budget grit and nostalgic camp that made me fall in love with it. Dream Team might not be for everyone, but for those who grew up with the weird, low-fi TV of the '90s, it’s a dream-like trip into a forgotten world.
