Being a woman or femme-identifying person online in 2026 is hell. The simple act of posting a selfie is almost guaranteed to garner some kind of negative attention. Regardless of the number of followers you have online, if you’re a woman content creator on YouTube, TikTok, or Instagram, you’re going to get nasty comments. First rule of social media: never read the comments, especially if you’re a woman.
The comments are usually from men who simply cannot resist the urge to reply to your posts with criticism about your looks, your weight, or even the way you talk. As if that isn’t enough for women online to deal with, sometimes men become obsessed and stalk, harass, or doxx the object of their unwanted affection. Australian award-winning writer, director, editor, and visual artist David Ward’s (Dorothy, Capable of Anything) first feature film, Lenore, takes a hard look at the scourge of parasocial relationships plaguing the internet, with a focus on the male gaze and the devastating consequences.
Co-written by Josie Hess (Morgana) and director David Ward, Lenore introduces pale, lanky, basement-dweller Max (Nicholas Jaquinot), who goes by the screen name LoneWolf91 online. His basement is a labyrinthine setup of video equipment where Max can watch the controversial content creator he is infatuated with, who calls herself Lenore (Ruby Duncan). Lenore posts makeup tutorials, music, and elaborate vlogs, and has recently been involved in several scandals, which have been broadcast online. She has achieved celebrity status online, and Max believes she is talking directly to him in her videos. He keeps lists of what he believes are their common interests, convinced he can make her love him back. When Lenore suddenly disappears, and her social media is deleted, Max is consumed with finding her so he can have her all to himself.
Jaquinot gives an unsettlingly captivating performance, portraying Max as a meek, lonely, unstable young man who lives vicariously through his online interactions and lacks the ability to socialize with people away from the internet. As the story progresses, Max becomes more unhinged as he hallucinates videos of Lenore, which he believes were meant for only him, and that may contain clues to her location. Max’s slow, painful descent into madness is fueled by his lack of self-awareness and poses the infuriating question of accountability. Her rise to internet fame has stripped Lenore of her agency, but is that the risk that women take when they have an online presence? Is it okay that we’re often objectified and subjected to these one-sided, obsessive, imaginary relationships that men have in their heads?
Duncan gives a convincing, poignant performance as Lenore, who is given a brief attempt at liberation in the form of an emotional monologue. Ward’s storytelling and Lenore’s words loosely echo Edgar Allan Poe’s poems Lenore, a story about the death of a young woman and her fiancé’s fixation on proper decorum for mourning the dead, and The Raven, a tale of a young man grieving his lover Lenore, as Lenore utters the word “nevermore,” in reference to her determination to take back her life, and ultimately her fate.
Ward has meticulously crafted a well-written, disquieting, single-location film that begins by painting an intricate portrait of a chronically online, disturbed young man that evolves into a mystery and becomes an electronic ghost story. Lenore is a cautionary tale that pleads with the audience, specifically men, to start a conversation about the troubling aspects of internet culture, women’s autonomy, and who bears the burden for the treatment of women in online spaces.
Lenore premiered at Chattanooga Film Festival 2026; release info TBA.
