In Guests, the largest cinema at the Venice Film Festival, will converge for the premiere of Frankenstein. The stunning portrayal of Guillermo del Toro mirrors that of the creator who played God and crafted a monster. When a young scientist resurrects a body for his peers, some see it as a deceit, while others react with anger. “It’s hateful and grotesque,” shouts a hidden elder, and his concern is partially warranted. Every technological advancement unseals Pandora’s box. I’m uncertain about what will be craved or where this will lead me.

Behind the main festival venue lies Lazarete Vecchio, a small, forsaken island. Since 2017, it has hosted Venice Immersive, an innovative section dedicated to showcasing and promoting XR (Extended Reality) storytelling. Previously, it served as a storage facility, and before that, as a plague quarantine zone. This year’s judge, Eliza McNitt, recalls a time when construction halted as human bones were uncovered. “There’s something unforgettable about presenting this new form of film at the world’s oldest film festival,” she remarks. “We are delving into the medium of the future, while conversing with ghosts.”

This year, the island is home to 69 distinct monsters, ranging from expansive walk-through installations to intricate virtual realms accessible via headsets. Naturally, Frankenstein’s creations draw the attention of its makers, and McNitt acknowledges similar worries surrounding immersive art, which is often intertwined with runaway technology that poses a threat to all of us, frequently associated with AI.

“Immersive storytelling is a fundamentally different discussion than AI,” she states. “Yet, there’s a palpable anxiety regarding what AI signifies for the film industry. It largely stems from the false belief that a mere prompt can conjure something magical. The reality is that utilizing AI tools to cultivate something personal and unique is a collaborative effort involving large teams of dedicated artists. AI is not a substitute for humans,” she emphasizes, “because AI lacks taste.”

McNitt has embraced AI tools early on and recently employed them in the autobiographical film Ancestra, set for release in 2025. She suspects that other filmmakers are not far behind. “I believe this experience here is merely the beginning of experimenting with these tools,” she says. “But next year, we will likely see deeper involvement in all aspects of these projects.”

The immersive storytelling segment at the Venice Film Festival aligns seamlessly with the film itself, encouraging attendees to view it as a natural progression or heir to traditional cinema. Various mainstream Hollywood directors have already explored this avenue. For instance, Asteroids, a high-stakes space thriller about disastrous mining expeditions, led by Dagriman, the Swingers director, reflects this trend. His production partner, Julina Tatlock, states that the interactive short films effectively brought Liman back to his independent roots, allowing him to conceive and create projects free from studio constraints. Asteroids is a labor of love, entwining elements of a larger narrative that could still be recognized as a feature of conventional cinema. “Doug is fascinated by space,” she adds.

The clouds possess a similar cinematic quality, floating above 2000 meters. This passionate arthouse drama depicts a grieving family pursuing the spirits of their deceased wives through the pages of uncompleted novels. Taiwanese director Singing Chen, adept in both traditional film and VR, believes each medium possesses unique strengths. “Immersive art was a pathway to film,” she remarks. “Even with the arrival of film, still images retain their potency and significance; they do not overshadow photographs. They affect us in ways distinct from moving images.”

Films in the Venice lineup are largely familiar. We often recognize the actors and directors, allowing for intuitive engagement with the storylines. In contrast, the artwork on the island can span a vast range—from immersive videos and installations to interactive adventures and virtual worlds. In the afternoon space, visitors can engage with the interactivity of an arcade game featuring Samantha Gorman and Danny Canisarro’s faces, along with a whistletop tour of Singapore’s cultural history. Every experience demands a leap of faith and hinges on a willingness to get lost. You might stumble, but you may also soar.

Three projects stand out from this year’s Venice showcase. The Ancestors by Steye Hallema are lively ensemble interactives where visitors first form pairs, then expand into large families, viewing photos of their descendants on synchronized smartphones. This experience is unique in its pure focus on community, joyful yet slightly chaotic, embodying the essence of a good family. If Ancestors emphasizes relationship significance, here the form and content are beautifully synchronized.

The extraordinary blur by Craig Quintero and Phoebe Greenberg (likely the most sought-after ticket on the island) explores themes of cloning and identity, Genesis and extinction, requiring an impromptu immersive theater approach. It shifts perspectives, creating a bizarre, provocative, and enticing experience. As it concludes, users face a chilling VR representation of aging—a messenger from the future. The eerie, decrepit figure approaching me made me feel a year or two older than I actually am.

If there’s a real-world parallel to the Frankenstein scene, where an enraged scientist screams “hate” and “obscene,” it occurs when a middle-aged Italian finds himself in a dispute with the producer of sensory installations dubbed the Dark Room as he ferries to the island. He accuses the producer of being a Satanist. They assure him it’s not the case. “Maybe it’s not,” he responds. “But you did Satan’s bidding.” In truth, dark rooms are splendid and not at all demonic. Co-directed by Mads Damsbo, Laurits Flensted-Jensen, and Anne Sofie Steen Sverdrup, this vivid ritual tale immerses participants in a dynamic, intense journey through various corners of queer subculture, nightclubs, and backrooms, ultimately leading them across the sea. It’s captivating, disquieting, and profoundly moving. Visitors often navigate aimlessly, as I noted.

Initially, many stories at Venice oversimplified the experiences to comfort newcomers intimidated by technology. However, the medium is now gaining assurance. It has matured from its infancy to adolescence. This art form has evolved to become more robust, daring, and psychologically intricate. It’s no coincidence that many immersive experiences at Venice explore themes of ancestors and descendants, examining the connections between both. Moreover, numerous experiences unfold in mobile environments, fragile bridges, and open elevators. The medium reveals its current state—somewhere between stages of transit, perpetually evolving. It journeys between worlds, fervently seeking its future trajectory.