It seems these days our social media is loaded with AI posts. Some of which make me wonder if our society isn’t doomed. Artificial Intelligence technology has its uses– from science and medicine to household daily chores, perhaps– but its use within the Arts is not one of them. Nonetheless, it has become rampant for the lone digital creator as well as for, in some controversial instances, the television and movie industry itself. Just the other week, there was a question of whether or not a script for the last season of the Netflix series Stranger Things was created via AI. Based on the originality of mainstream Hollywood and the constant need for “content,” it’s a good bet it was.
For centuries, it was human creativity that was at the heart of the visual arts, but now there has been a trend to turn it over to the digital creators. Imagination and its execution have been subjugated to the computer. Whether you find it on TikTok, Facebook Reels, Instagram or elsewhere, AI is being used not only to trigger thought and discussion but to also design and materialize concepts that humans program and facilitate, no matter how outrageous the whim might be. You might find:
— selfies with long-deceased actors
— being on a movie set with various action heroes from decades past
(A recent example was one with Charlton Heston on a generic Planet of the Apes set.)
— actors posing with younger versions of themselves or, if deceased, the older one with angel wings
— still photos of vintage stars being animated and brought to life, making expressions that are a little off
The results can be both surprisingly realistic– and creepy and unsettling, such as seeing the beloved actors from The Wizard of Oz— all with the aforementioned angel wings, of course– posing in a very naturalistic cornfield. For some, this is either whimsical fun or a well-intended tribute. There are film people themselves who do this with the impression they are somehow bringing the past to life for new generations.
But what are the ethics behind this trend? Are the living stars okay with this? Does Mel Gibson, for instance, know his younger Road Warrior self is posing with the old Mel, teasingly pulling on his gray beard? Or the young and older versions of the stars from Titanic, onboard the ship and hugging each other like old friends? And what of those who no longer have a voice– or whose voice has been digitally recreated? Wasn’t this protected under “Celebrity Rights”? I’ve always believed, let the dead rest in peace.
This morbid practice of appropriating likenesses has carried over into voice recreations–using AI to mimic the voices of long-deceased actors so that we can finally hear them speaking words from old articles they were quoted in. Some have taken greater liberties and used voice recreations to manipulate these dead actors into greeting the listeners of the future. Those who comment are often awed and consider it cool. But it’s a counterfeit past that, over time, will be blended with what actually was. These creators believe, by prefacing the videos with simple warnings, that this will suffice: “This video was created with AI technology.” But who’s to say that ten, twenty years from now, these disclaimers are put aside. A digital snip here or there with editing software and the next thing you know, it’s turning up in film courses or documentaries. All because someone, at some point in time, wanted you to believe this was true to the subject. There is no artistic equivalence between doing this and, say, having another actor portraying someone famous in a movie or using their own voice to recreate another’s in a documentary. With all this AI junk, it’ll be on the Internet forever as though it was the reality.
As someone who wants to be a purist for posterity, my issue with all this is that it confuses history– what is real and what isn’t? What is part of real history? But then, isn’t this the modern trend in our society, to not be able to process what is truth and what is “fake news.” In most cases, film people can spot these fakes– the photos that are obviously manipulated. But as AI grows in sophistication– as the older set gives way to the next generation– who will be there to tell the difference? I saw a fake photo of Marilyn Monroe, and it certainly could’ve passed for the real thing– if not for the style of bikini she was wearing. Just this morning on Facebook, in a non-film group that dealt with “Vanished Chicago,” the administrator posted a photo of Wrigley Field in the 1950s. There were about twenty visible errors in the photo that suggested it was AI-generated. That’s the damaging effect to history. We shouldn’t have to use a microscope every time something is posted. What we see should reflect truth– not suggest truth.
Audiences watch the AI The Wizard of Oz at the Sphere in Las Vegas…
AI is used to fill in the gaps, and this is dangerous. When The Wizard of Oz was screened within Las Vegas’s “Sphere,” AI technology was used to expand the horizons and recreate performances on the sidelines that were never intended. If the filmmakers are not alive, we must assume it was not intended. This is particularly dishonest for film history because it distorts the performances. What if this version of a cherished classic is released beyond the confines of that Sphere? Now we have multiple versions, and audiences can choose which one to see. Where is the artistic integrity in that? For some opportunists, such as the producers of an upcoming “deepfaked” version of The Magnificent Ambersons, they feel they are “righting a wrong” because of edits done to the original film decades past. But Generative AI is anti-Art. These experiments can be, for some, interesting, but they are ultimately meaningless. There is no “sensitive use of AI.” If footage is missing from a particular work, there are more tasteful ways to reconstruct it, such as the film stills used in the restoration of Frank Capra’s Lost Horizon (1937). Film historian Mark Alan Vieira said it best in regards to The Magnificent Ambersons, “Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony remains unfinished because there was only one Franz Schubert. Likewise, there was only one Orson Welles.”
Another example is the silent film London After Midnight (1927), which remains one of the most famous lost movies of all time. But many production photos do survive. One content creator decided to “restore” the film itself based on these photos. In short, they filled in the gaps, which was quite substantial since no footage actually exists. It was more of a test rather than a complete recreation, but again, many online voices commented on how “cool” it looked. But the results are unconvincing to those who really know silent movies. Certain shots and angles, whether hand-held or quick zooms, would not have been used then. Perhaps it’s a shot the director would never have wanted. But most alarmingly, this short test does a disservice to the great actor Lon Chaney. There are countless expressions and movements this digital version of him does that would never have been acted out in that manner. One day, people will ask, “Have you seen London After Midnight?” And they will respond that yes, they saw it on YouTube. Well, no, you didn’t.
Modern creative decisions are being forced upon various works because of our inability to accept what is gone or lost. People have this desire to know what could’ve been. You see this also with incessant movie sequels based on a company’s goal to squeeze money out of a lucrative IP. Characters are brought back again and again, and when we think it’s over or their story is concluded, we’re taken to a “multiverse” where it starts all over again. Maybe they died here, but wait till you see them in this alternate world…
Everyone wants to be a filmmaker now. Everyone has their own Star Wars story to tell with AI tools. Everyone wants their moment to shine and get a “like” on social media. Everyone can be a modern Frankenstein and resurrect the dead for their own purposes, whether well-meaning or not. But it’s just another road we are going down that becomes scarier the further we travel on it.
~MCH
