A tentative end to the 118-day Hollywood actors’ strike might seem to come very low down on the world’s list of priorities right now, but as we get ready to slump in front of our streaming services this weekend, it’s worth reflecting that we have just passed a major milestone in the evolution — and perhaps devolution — not just of film and television but of our species as a whole.
At the time of writing on Thursday afternoon, the terms of the agreements were still somewhat vague, but three victories were being claimed by the Screen Actors Guild of America.
First, it seems, actors’ minimums — a kind of scaled minimum wage that sets salaries in Hollywood — will be increased, which is a massive win for the overwhelming majority of actors who are not major stars.
Second, actors have won a better deal from streaming services when it comes to residuals — a royalty paid to actors every time their performance is shown.
And third, Hollywood will no longer be allowed to carry out a plan that was part Black Mirror, part Dickensian sweat-shop: digitally scanning actors’ faces, paying them for a day’s work, using AI recreations of said actors in new roles (with payment not guaranteed) and then, once the actor had died, owning and re-using their digital likeness forever, without payment, and without needing the permission of the actor’s family or estate.
Well, sort of. Hollywood is still Hollywood, and tech bros are still tech bros. Studios will still be able to scan actors’ faces, use their AI personas in new productions and own them after their death for the rest of eternity, but, at the very least, they will now have to ask families and estates for consent and pay a nominal fee every time they use the digital ghost’s face.
At this point I can hear some readers asking: so what? Who cares about some wrangle in La La Land? And how on earth could this have any bearing on our direction as a species?
Well, let me tell you a tale.
Over the course of the last 118 days the Hollywood machine has had two fundamental facts hammered into its bloodless, golden head.
OK, you ask, but who could be sexy and compelling enough to keep you interested in the movies once actors start being replaced by digital ghosts? The simple answer is you.
The first is that AI is here; still in its infancy, perhaps, and still little more than a tool, but nonetheless present enough, and possessing enough potential, to already be a central figure in labour negotiations.
The second is that professional human actors need to eat food and pay rent, and are willing to make your life difficult if they can’t eat food or pay rent, and are therefore something that should be removed from the industry as quickly and as smoothly as the law and technology allow.
OK, you ask, but who could be sexy and compelling enough to keep you interested in the movies once actors start being replaced by digital ghosts?
The simple answer is you.
In an interview with Collider, quoted by Variety earlier this year, Joe Russo, the co-director of Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame, explained how this might happen.
“At some point, perhaps, you could tell a video-streaming service, ‘Hey, I want a movie starring my photoreal avatar and Marilyn Monroe’s photo-real avatar’ ... It renders a very competent story with dialogue that mimics your voice ... And suddenly now you have a rom-com starring you that’s 90 minutes long. So you can curate your story specifically to you.”
Speaking to Variety, Justine Bateman (former Family Ties star and adviser to the actors’ union in all matters AI) took it one step further, suggesting that AI could be used to mash together content on your social media feed, featuring you and people you know, to create entertainment with you as its star, “synthetic fare produced at a fraction of the cost” of human-produced films and television.
“There’s no scenario I can think of where this doesn’t happen,” said Bateman.
Of course, copyright laws and teams of attack lawyers might prevent you from starring as Spider-Man alongside Michelle Pfeiffer’s Catwoman; but how about Arachno-Man and Michele Fyfer’s Kitty-Woman?
And yes, they’d be horrible, horrible films, unwatchable by pretty much everyone other than you, the star. But in a world in which entertainment is becoming increasingly solitary, designed to be enjoyed in your lounge with one or two other people, or alone, on your phone, all you need is that one paid-up viewer, repeated tens of millions of times, each one as high as a kite on a dopamine rush straight out of the fever dreams of a TikTok influencer, all gazing at an AI-perfected version of themselves like Narcissus gazing at his reflection in the water, except this time being shown something far more beautiful and interesting; something so alluring that Narcissus would pay whatever the monthly subscription fee was, and no questions asked, and to tell with subtler, more complex forms of human thought and interaction.
If you think empathy is in short supply in this world right now, you ain’t seen nothing yet ...
Yes, the strike is over. But this movie is only just starting.
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