In an age where our online and offline identities increasingly blur together, writer-director Noam Argov explores what happens when the emotional realities of virtual spaces become impossible to separate from our physical lives. Co-written with her sister, Sappir Argov, “VERSE” is an ambitious hybrid of live action, animation, machinima, and motion capture that examines connection, consent, masculinity, and identity inside immersive virtual reality.

The film follows Adam, a teenage gamer who spends most of his free time inside the virtual world of “VERSE,” where he’s known as a beloved and popular character. There, he has built a deep relationship with Sam, a girlfriend he’s never met in person but feels closer to than anyone else in his real life. When they finally decide to meet offline, an incident inside the game fundamentally changes their relationship, forcing Adam to question not only what happened but where the boundaries between his virtual and physical selves truly exist.

Argov’s approach to filmmaking mirrors the themes of the story. To create “VERSE”‘s digital world, she and her team built an original VR environment, filming nearly half the movie inside it using motion-capture suits and real-time game engine software. Even the sound design reflects the project’s experimental spirit—the filmmakers transformed a PlayStation controller into a synthesizer, using it as an instrument to create the film’s tactile sonic landscape. As Argov describes it, the production itself became “an experiment in self-reflection,” using technology to critique the very technologies reshaping modern life.

The project also draws from deeply personal experiences. Growing up as the daughter of immigrants the south, Argov found refuge in online gaming communities where she could reinvent herself. But those same spaces also exposed her to the normalization of harassment and violence in virtual environments. Having experienced sexual violence both in the real world and online, she describes “VERSE” as “both an exploration and an act of reconciliation.”

A recent graduate of NYU Tisch’s School of the Arts, where she received the Sloan Production Award for “VERSE,” Argov has quickly established herself as an emerging voice in independent cinema. Her previous short, Sulam, premiered at Aspen Shortsfest and won Best U.S. Student Film at Palm Springs ShortFest. Before filmmaking, she worked as a National Geographic Explorer and adventure sports documentarian, creating work distributed by the United Nations, the U.S. Department of State, Red Bull TV, and National Geographic.

Cinema Femme spoke with Argov about collaborating with her sister, the challenges of directing motion-capture performances, the evolving culture of online gaming, and why “VERSE” uses cutting-edge technology to ask deeply human questions.

Noam Argov will be at Comic Con this weekend talking on a panel tomorrow titled From Short Films to Sinners: How Hollywood Creates Virtual Worlds . . . and You Can Too.

I loved your director’s statement. It gave me so much insight into the film and really helped shape the questions I wanted to ask. You describe “VERSE” as both an exploration and an act of reconciliation. At what point did you realize this story needed to become a film? And I’d also love to hear about your collaboration with your sister—I think it’s so cool that you wrote it together.

My sister and I write pretty much everything together. She’s eight years younger than me, and she’s really my writing partner, which is amazing.

Because of our age difference, we had similar but very different experiences growing up online. I’m a millennial, so I experienced the early days of internet culture—the late ’90s and early 2000s. I was on Second Life, The Sims, Neopets. It was the Wild West of chat rooms and online communities.

I remember those. They were fun—but also a little dangerous.

Exactly. My perspective came from growing up with video games and social gaming during that era and watching how those spaces gradually became stranger and, in some ways, more dangerous.

My sister’s experience was different. She’s technically Gen Z. Instead of chat rooms at 11, she had Instagram at 11. So I was asking, “What happens when the internet is the Wild West?” She was asking, “What happens when the internet becomes hyper-performative, curated, and you’re constantly being seen?”

She also comes at it from a very personal place. She’s open about having body dysmorphia and how constantly seeing and presenting yourself online can become toxic.

For me, I’d worked in tech in Silicon Valley, so I’ve always been fascinated by online culture and our psychological relationship with technology. Are the people building these platforms thinking about us? The answer is… not really. Or if they are, it’s often in relation to profits.

Together, those perspectives—the sense of community, the danger, and the pressure of constant self-presentation—became the foundation of the film.

I also thought it was really interesting that your main character is a teenage boy. Why was it important to tell this story through Adam?

Originally, the protagonist was a woman.

One of the biggest inspirations for changing that was an incredible article by Julian Dibbell called “A Rape in Cyberspace,” published in The Village Voice in 1993. I highly recommend it. He also wrote a great book called My Tiny Life: Crime and Passion in a Virtual World. His work has really influenced the way I think about internet ethics.

The article documents one of the earliest recorded cases of sexual assault in a virtual community. It took place in a text-based online world where you’d enter a room and see descriptions like, “To your left is a fireplace. To your right is a couch,” along with people chatting.

A user hacked accounts belonging to female-presenting users and graphically described assaults using their characters. It completely shattered that community because everyone suddenly had to ask, “What does violence mean in a virtual space?”

It turned out to be a group of NYU students—not just one person—which made it even more unsettling.

That got me thinking about the communities that reinforce these behaviors and normalize this rhetoric.

I was interested in a character who would gaslight himself into believing something wasn’t a big deal. Young women are often raised with an awareness of sexual violence. But I think many young men online are encouraged to dismiss harmful behavior as “just a joke” or “not real.” I wanted to explore someone who internalized that mindset.

It’s funny because we shot the film two years ago, before the explosion of AI discourse, looksmaxxing, jawmaxxing, and all these conversations happening online now.

When I first wrote the script, people kept asking, “Are you sure you don’t want to make the protagonist a woman?” Now everyone says, “Of course it’s a teenage boy.”

Have you gotten any feedback from the gaming community?

Actually, that’s been most of our audience. We premiered at Tribeca, and so many people who connected with the film were gamers.

We also worked with Sophia Bollinger, a VR Youtuber, who consulted on the project to help us represent that community authentically.

I’m part of gaming communities myself and have been for decades. There’s so much I genuinely love about them. It was really important to show that these spaces can foster friendships, romance, and meaningful connections for people who may struggle socially in real life.

But they also have a darker side. I wanted both realities to exist in the film.

I noticed you worked with an intimacy coordinator, which seems especially important for a film dealing with this subject. What was that process like?

It was incredible. Our intimacy coordinator, Emily Vortherms, was amazing.

Because we were using motion capture, everything had to be carefully choreographed. One of the things we discovered was that the actors didn’t actually need to make physical contact during the assault scene.

Using motion capture, we could offset their performances and combine them digitally. That meant we could create the illusion of physical violence without requiring the actors to physically enact it.

It was fascinating to see technology actually make those scenes more ethical to film. Working with both the intimacy coordinator and our movement choreographer allowed us to create something that was hopefully much less psychologically taxing for the actors.

I think that’s fascinating. It reminds me of filmmakers who use technology not just as a storytelling device, but to explore the ethics surrounding it. It feels like that’s exactly what you’re doing here.

That was really the goal from the beginning.

I wanted to use the technology itself to question technology. We used the same motion-capture techniques gamers use and the same game engines developers use to build games. We built our own world and shot inside it.

I’ve always loved self-reflexive filmmaking, so approaching the film this way felt very natural.

I saw some behind-the-scenes footage. What was it like learning motion capture?

I’d never done anything like it before.

We partnered with a studio, and through NYU’s Interactive Telecommunications Program, we discovered they had a motion-capture stage. I had no idea it even existed.

It was exciting because we were able to experiment with technology that’s usually associated with enormous budgets, but we did it on a student budget.

I think motion capture and game engines are becoming much more accessible. That’s actually part of the Comic-Con panel we’re doing, called From Short Films to “Sinners.” Our film represents a very DIY approach, while “Sinners” represents a much bigger production—but we’re using many of the same tools.

It’s exciting because filmmakers, YouTubers, and gamers are all experimenting with this technology now.

It really feels like we’re seeing a new movement. “Backrooms “comes to mind immediately.

Exactly. It’s funny because Kane (Parsons), who made “Backrooms,” and I actually share the same manager.

But I think we’re all exploring similar themes: loneliness, digital alienation, and the disconnect from ourselves that’s happening online.

We’re all trying to make sense of the same world.

I think you’re doing exactly that.

Can you talk a little about your cast?

They were incredible.

Taj Cross, Jesse LaTourette, and Will Dagger, who plays Sloth Man—even though you never actually see his face.

We filmed all the live-action material first and then shot all the in-game motion capture afterward. That meant Taj and Jesse had already built trust and chemistry before stepping into the virtual performances.

I could see their avatars live while directing, even though they couldn’t.

Taj is such a nuanced film actor. His micro-expressions are incredible. One of the funniest directing notes I kept giving him was, “Go bigger,” because motion capture requires a performance that’s somewhere between stage acting and film acting.

It’s this fascinating middle ground where you have to be incredibly present and expressive with your whole body.

It’s almost like Buster Keaton—pure physical storytelling.

I know you’re developing another project with your sister, “Princess.” Can you talk about that?

We’re still pretty early, so I have to be a little careful.

But yes, it’s a feature we’ve been developing together for quite a while. We’re hoping to shoot next year and start taking it out soon. It’s exciting to finally see it moving forward.