Pinny Grills, who co-wrote and directed the film with her husband Crane, shares, “The first time Sam performed a bit of Shakespeare in that space, he said, ‘I think this is what it was like in Shakespeare’s time when people threw apples at you.’ In reality, no one is watching you, but they’re occasionally looking around and listening to the poetry.”
Grand Theft Hamlet, set to release in theaters on MUBI in January, begins with Crane and Osterwien’s avatars escaping from the police and dashing into an outdoor amphitheater. One character humorously remarks, “I wonder if you can stage anything here?” This exploration of virtual spaces for cinematic storytelling isn’t unique to these filmmakers; it’s a burgeoning trend in the documentary genre.
Another example is The Remarkable Life of Ebelin, which premiered on Netflix. Directed by Benjamin Ree, it delves into the life of Norwegian gamer Matt Stein, who tragically passed away at 25 from Duchenne muscular dystrophy. Ree immerses viewers in the world of World of Warcraft to tell Stein’s story, capturing the essence of a life lived primarily through gaming.
Similarly, Nit Island, streaming on Metrograph at Home, unfolds almost entirely within the survival game DayZ. The filmmakers donned “Press” badges on their avatars and sought interviews with high-stakes players, often facing chaos as they shouted, “Don’t shoot! I’m a documentarian!”
These documentaries venture into the gaming sphere, seeking to uncover the realities hidden within. For these filmmakers, the authentic human connections that can emerge within virtual worlds are as worthy of exploration as those in the physical realm. Grills remarks, “Filmmakers want to create stories about the world we live in, and more people are spending their time in these virtual gaming spaces. As filmmakers, we are holding a mirror to society and saying, ‘Look at what’s happening here.’”
As the gaming industry has risen to prominence as a major entertainment medium—often eclipsing film, television, and music combined—the lines between cinema and video games are increasingly blurred. This trend extends beyond blockbusters like The Super Mario Brothers Movie to machinima, a form of filmmaking that employs game engines to craft original narratives.
The Remarkable Life of Ebelin, Grand Theft Hamlet, and Nit Island represent some of the first feature attempts to bridge the gap between virtual spaces and cinema, showcasing a unique approach to storytelling. Grills observes, “This is just the beginning. We are right at the bottom of this development. It’s exciting to think that we are part of that evolution in cinema.”
When Ree first encountered Stein’s story, he was profoundly moved. After Stein’s passing in 2014, his parents, Robert and Trud, realized their son had missed much of life due to his illness. Duchenne muscular dystrophy, a rare disease without a cure, confined Stein to his basement, where he spent countless hours playing video games in a wheelchair.
Upon sharing the news of their son’s death on their blog, Stein’s parents were overwhelmed by the flood of messages commemorating him as “Ebelin Redmoor” in World of Warcraft. Ree aimed to resurrect Stein’s vibrant life within the game by utilizing thousands of pages of text from the game to reconstruct his narrative. In-game, Stein experienced his first kiss as Ebelin.
“I thought, what if it’s possible to translate that vast collection and reconstruct real events with authentic dialogue and characters, while inviting everyone into the experience?” Ree reflects. “He truly grew up within a game. I was curious: what was he like? He experienced friendship, love—all those things I could recognize from my own youth.”
Ree understood that to tell Stein’s story, it needed to be framed within World of Warcraft. Although not a player himself, he sought out gamers who posted fan videos on YouTube. Rasmus Tukia, a self-taught 3D animator, led a team of animators in recreating the game’s environments using models designed for gameplay videos.
“They were all YouTubers, and it was their first job,” Ree shares. “We are doing something entirely new here. If this works, a lot of credit goes to these YouTubers.”
Ree’s aim was not to perfectly replicate the game; that could come off as clumsy or overly jarring. So, for three years, he animated Stein/Ebelin’s experiences in World of Warcraft with a more cinematic touch, all without Blizzard Entertainment’s permission. Throughout the process, they shared drafts with Stein’s online friends for feedback.
“When I showed them the film after three and a half years of work, the reaction was, ‘This is exactly how we remember Ebelin,’” Ree recalls. “Then they added, ‘But you made a mistake. Ebelin liked women in leather more.’”
It wasn’t until the film was nearing completion—shortly before it was acquired by Netflix—that Ree contacted Blizzard. He traveled to their California offices to screen the film for the executives.
“I was so nervous. I hadn’t slept for days. We had no Plan B. I had to take some extra doses of my asthma medication just to breathe before the meeting,” Ree confesses. “We showed them the film, and they were crying immediately afterward. The boss turned to us and said, ‘This film is amazing. You’ll get the rights.’”
Crane, an experienced stage and screen actor, initially conceptualized Grand Theft Hamlet as a way to stay engaged during theater closures due to the pandemic. However, as they posted their videos, the enthusiastic reactions from audiences and the game’s creator, Rockstar Games, began pouring in.
“They talked to us about how they designed the game as a sandbox, a creative space,” Crane explains.
But creating Grand Theft Hamlet came with its own set of challenges, leading to its win for Best Documentary at SXSW in March. For starters, nearly every audition or rehearsal within the game devolved into chaos, with someone usually arriving with a gun, leading to anarchy.
The filmmakers referenced previous works, such as Joe Hunting’s 2022 documentary We Met in Virtual Reality and the efforts of artist Jackie Kono, who created a nightmarish, existential short film titled Descent Into Hell using Grand Theft Auto. However, there was scant information on how to craft a movie set entirely within the game’s world.
Crane notes, “We were working on every aspect—performing a play inside this world, learning how to capture images in this world, then figuring out how to edit all that footage. We were learning as we went along.”
This also allowed for creative freedom. At one point, they realized they could essentially perform Shakespeare on “a billion-dollar budget.” Their rendition of Hamlet included elements like a DeLorean from Back to the Future or a cargo plane. Meanwhile, Grills, a seasoned filmmaker, experimented with camera placement.
She reflects, “I realized: let’s try to make things a bit calmer and more cinematic. When I discovered that there was a phone with a camera in the game, I could capture close-ups and wide shots, creating a kind of cinematic language.”
As Grand Theft Hamlet screens at various film festivals, Crane and Grills find themselves in the surprising position of being celebrated for a film they largely created in their bedroom on a PlayStation. Like their endeavors in a virtual world, their work, done in physical isolation, has garnered a continuously growing community.
Ree, who spoke from a festival stop in San Francisco, shared that he was traveling with Stein’s parents for screenings of Ebelin. What once felt like a quiet, solitary life has now reached audiences around the globe.
“They’ve seen the film at every screening. In a way, this film has been part of their healing, but also part of their grieving process. They’ve watched it more than 150 times.”
