‘Ibelin’ Review: Finding Freedom, Friendship And Secrecy In Online Gaming [Sundance]

Media representation of disabled people is challenging to get right — too saccharine, and you’re veering towards inspiration porn, too maudlin, and you’re implying that a disabled life might not be a life worth living. “Ibelin,” the newest documentary from “The Painter and the Thief” filmmaker Benjamin Ree, strikes a poignant balance, acknowledging the ways that physical disability can limit a life while showing how one complex man expanded his world nonetheless.

The film, which features scant talking head interviews but is primarily a deft assembly of archival footage and animated recreations, begins with one family’s account of a devastating illness. Through a vast compendium of home video footage, we see Trude and Robert Steen rejoice at the birth of their first child, Mats. We also see the gradual decline of his movement due to a rare type of muscular dystrophy called Duchenne.

Mats dies in his sleep at 25, and his parents mourn him as well as the limited life they believe he’d lived — a life without romantic love, close friendships, or the chance to really impact other people. They assume this was due in part to his obsession with video games. During the final ten years of his life, Robert believes his son spent up to 20,000 hours gaming, particularly gaming online.

Of course, as those of us who’ve found community online know, Mats was doing much more than leveling up. Through a guild in World of Warcraft, he experienced all of the things his parents thought he’d missed — and all of the drama that comes with a whole social life. Because Mats kept a blog towards the end of his life and his guild members preserved some 42,000 pages of online interactions, Rees is able to reproduce Mats’ life as Ibelin Redmoore, a beefy, womanizing nobleman/private detective.

As one might guess, there’s plenty to sob over in this earnest, empathetic tale, but it’s also a salient examination of the conflict between outside perception and inner life. Just as Mats’ parents believe he’s living a far less vibrant existence, his online friends know nothing of his hardships. Ibelin is known for his compassionate advice, and Mats becomes someone that community members can turn to for difficult discussions. When Mats experiences crises of his own, he’s not as ready to show vulnerability in kind.

He was a complicated person, and this film honors and mirrors that. Mats’ online life was both a source of profound connection and escape. Because he kept his personal and role-playing lives so separate, he rarely shared his whole self with the people he loved. Animation built using engines from “World of Warcraft” itself depicts Ibelin’s contradictions. Blocky computer graphics have never looked so human.

The film isn’t perfect. A violin-heavy score, although beautiful, occasionally kicks things over from heartfelt into schmaltzy. Despite such unprecedented access to Mats’ online life, certain parts feel glossed over or lacking. For example, his relationship with a character helmed by a girl in the Netherlands is clearly somewhat romantic, but the exact nature of their friendship is never divulged.
“Ibelin” is a love letter to one man, but it’s also an homage to every outsider who’s ever found their people online. Per one particularly tearjerking passage in the credits, the film is dedicated “to all the people who continuously form friendships online, reaching out across geographical, conventional, cultural and medical barriers to let another human being know in their heart that they are not alone and they matter.” [B+]

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