In a near-future where AI promises to erase grief and deliver infinite comfort, HEARTWORM asks the question we can no longer ignore: when escape feels perfect, what happens to our humanity? Written and directed by the husband-and-wife team Miriam Louise Arens and Mitchell Arens, and anchored by a soul-baring, tour-de-force performance from Tony Award-nominated Broadway star Amber Gray, the film follows Avena, a grieving mother fighting to pull her family back from the brink after her husband retreats into NeuraLife, a fully immersive AI world. Ahead of its Southern California premiere at the 29th Annual Dances With Films: LA on Sunday, June 21 at TCL Chinese Theatres in Hollywood (with an East Coast screening July 30 at Woods Hole), Gray and the Arens sat down with AMFM Magazine’s Paul Salfen for a candid conversation about the magic of handmade cinema, the power of breath and presence, and why this story feels more urgent than ever.
Interview by Paul Salfen, Text by Christine Thompson for AMFM Magazine
There are films that entertain and films that warn. HEARTWORM does both — and it does so with rare emotional precision and artistic integrity.
In an exclusive conversation with AMFM Magazine, Amber Gray, Miriam Louise Arens, and Mitchell Arens reflected on the years-long journey of bringing this intimate, haunting sci-fi drama to life. What began as a story written six years ago has landed in a cultural moment where its central tension — the seductive pull of technological escape versus the messy, vital work of staying human — feels almost prophetic.
“This is one of those moments when you look around and everybody is just there together, seeing it happen,” Miriam recalled of a pivotal scene (affectionately nicknamed “the scrambled eggs” by the cast and crew) in which Amber’s character, Avena, tries to pull her husband (Juan Riedinger) back into reality for the first time. The entire set fell silent, glued to the raw exchange unfolding in front of them.
Even more powerful was the film’s final scene. “Amber was really, really pulling it from the depths of the soul of the earth… and of Avena,” Miriam said. “We remember looking over at our gaffer and he was just weeping.” Mitchell nodded in agreement: that collective, wordless recognition of something profound happening in real time became one of their most treasured memories of the production.
For Amber, the experience was deeply tactile and visceral. The company had just emerged from COVID isolation; many were working together again for the first time. They lived on Martha’s Vineyard during the shoot, creating an insular, focused bubble. “Miriam’s very good with playing me music and sort of getting me in the right headspace,” Amber shared. “Being wrapped in the blankets, I have vivid memories of the textures of everything… the screen coming up and the light coming in and being wrapped in a blanket and just getting to walk outside barefoot in the dirt. All of that stuff was super visceral and just really helped. It’s burned into my brain.”
That physical, sensory approach to performance mirrors the film’s core themes: the vitality of breath, the necessity of presence, and the quiet catastrophe of emotional absence.
Despite its near-future setting and exploration of immersive AI, HEARTWORM itself contains not a single frame of artificial intelligence. “We had to keep going back to people… ‘You can’t use AI, there’s none. There will be none in this film. All handmade. Human made,’” the directors emphasized. In an era when AI tools are being marketed as creative shortcuts, their deliberate, handcrafted approach feels like its own quiet act of resistance — and a perfect embodiment of the story they’re telling.
When Salfen asked what advice they would offer aspiring filmmakers and storytellers who want to make work that makes people think and feel, the answers were refreshingly grounded.
“Don’t be afraid. Just start,” Miriam urged. “There are thousands of steps you have to take… and you just have to start taking the steps. Don’t wait till everything’s teed up perfectly.”
Mitchell added the wisdom of releasing perfectionism: “It feels very daunting when you’re stepping into the zone. I think of it a lot like parenthood… you never know the hundreds and thousands of variables you’re going to get along the way. And those are part of the fun parts of the journey — not knowing, releasing that control… just allow things to happen to you that you can respond to. Because then you get these amazing performances that you never could have predicted.”
Amber, who has originated major roles on Broadway and makes art across disciplines, offered her own hard-won perspective for actors: “I have a lot of training… I love the craft of acting. I rely on the training greatly but also just make, make, make. Like you don’t have to wait to be given permission to make art… Work begets work. And just start.”
Staying centered during the emotional intensity of production came down to what Miriam and Mitchell called “heart space” — being kind, supporting the people around you, and (as a married couple) protecting their own foundation so they could show up fully for the work. Amber’s personal grounding technique was even more elemental: breath. “I thought a lot about grounding myself, which always just came down to like, how am I breathing? How slowly, how quickly. I thought about my breath a lot in almost every scene we shot. It’s just a very quick, easy way to access whatever’s happening emotionally.”
The film’s ultimate invitation to audiences is both simple and radical. “Hold on to what’s real,” the filmmakers said. “Human to human connection is very important… Touch your partners. Touch your children. Look everybody in the eye. Tell them you love them. Physical contact, eye contact — not device contact.”
They hope viewers will question the easy dopamine hits of endless scrolling and AI comfort and ask themselves a harder, more nourishing question: Does it feel as good as real presence with the people (and strangers) in our actual lives?
After the LA premiere, the Arens are already moving forward with a new sci-fi project “reflective of the now” and a completed documentary exploring similar themes in more grounded, present-day terms. Amber, meanwhile, is currently on Broadway eight times a week in the 53-year-old classic The Rocky Horror Show revival (“super fun”) and recently screened a film project she’s in that she described as “trippy” — a reminder that even when the medium changes, the artist’s job of chasing truth remains the same.
HEARTWORM is more than timely. It is necessary. In a cultural moment racing toward frictionless comfort, this handmade, heart-centered film dares to suggest that the most radical act left to us might be staying present with each other — and with ourselves.
