On our physical planet, very few places and communities remain uncharted. But the world wide web is a largely unexplored and ever-growing universe. In Knit’s Island a French film crew go on a digital expedition into a post-apocalyptic world and create a fascinating, original and disconcerting portrait of its inhabitants.
When you step into Knit’s Island – located within the immensely popular multiplayer survival game DayZ – the first question that arises is: why here? Of all the worlds available on the internet, why choose one where civilisation has disappeared, the deserted streets are littered with burnt-out cars and bloodthirsty zombies, and beauty and warmth are non-existent? What does it say about the human condition that so many people spend much of their lives as avatars in this desolate, dangerous, loveless place?
It is a question the filmmakers try to answer by walking, running, driving, fleeing and dancing in it. You see them moving through the sometimes incredibly lifelike landscapes, looking for human interaction. You can hear them breathing, see the world through their searching eyes, feel their anxiety when they encounter new people. The filmmakers’ avatars are modelled on their facial appearances, with realistic human features, nondescript clothes, standard backpacks, sunglasses and practical accessories like head lamps. Apparently, these are necessary to survive in this brutal environment, where it rains and thunders, night follows day as in the real world, and food is scarce. The team spends hours simply roaming around.
The documentary Knit’s Island is set entirely in this digital world (in which the crew spend exactly 963 hours) and does not paint a cheerful picture of our human species, especially if you bear in mind that you can more or less determine whoever you want to be and how you operate within this cyberspace.
You can choose to join a group of peace-loving people who respect everything living and aim to exist in harmony with nature. Or you can decide to gather people around you who are bothered by neither god nor commandment.
What makes the sequences in which the filmmakers meet the latter group so thoroughly depressing? That they hide their faces behind masks? They are avatars anyway, why does their online persona need to be unrecognisable too? Is it in the natural way they all carry an automatic weapon? The desolation of the building they live in? The total absence of warmth, love and empathy in the way they communicate? Or is it, above all, the realisation that of all the possibilities the internet offers, why have they chosen this? An existence of violence, cruelty, power and fear, in which they can do what they like without consequences. It makes you wonder who hides behind these characters, but unfortunately the players within this group are not prepared to really open up.
In other encounters the filmmakers manage to catch a glimpse of the people behind the avatars, however. An itinerant couple (heavily armed like everyone else, of course) in a battered car turn out to be together in everyday life as well. For over eight years, this has been a form of shared entertainment for them. They don’t really harm anyone in this world, except for the zombies. In another instance, a well-armed and very tough woman the filmmakers meet has to cut off the conversation because upstairs her child has fallen over and is crying for attention. A commune led by Reverend Stone, built on the shared worship of an invented god seems to lean heavily on caring for each other. But this also raises the question of why you would do that digitally, in self-chosen harsh conditions, and not in your own, real life?
What makes people flee into this world, spend so much time here and keep coming back for more? It is disconcerting to see what people do with the freedom and opportunities the internet offers and it paints a portrait of human beings that is anything but hopeful. Very occasionally there is a moment of relaxation, cheerfulness and sometimes even beauty. A view atop a mountain ridge, or a dance party around a campfire, causing uncomfortable laughter.
Knit’s Island opens a door to a whole new documentary genre, to a boundless world full of intriguing societies and personalities. It makes one curious about those worlds and what is being done with limitless freedom in other places on the internet? But also makes one curious especially about the people who inhabit them via their avatars. People sitting on an office chair or sofa with their eyes glued on the screen. Who are they? And who are we, spending our own time watching them?
France, 2023, 95 mins
Directors: Ekiem Barbier, Guilhem Causse and Quentin L’helgoualc’h
Production: Boris Garavini
Cinematography: Ekiem Barbier, Guilhem Causse and Quentin L’helgoualc’h
Editing: Nicolas Bancilhon
Sound: Mathieu Farnarier
Music: Ekiem Barbier, Guilhem Causse and Marc Siffert
