The Shape of Cinema to Come

Just a few months ago, we witnessed an unexpected phenomenon in Hollywood: a strike by writers and actors that impacted the industry like an earthquake. At the heart of this upheaval, an episode of the iconic series Black Mirror, starring Mexican actress Salma Hayek, captured the attention of both audiences and critics. In this episode, a television network used artificial intelligence and quantum computing to create a series completely based on a young woman's image, without her consent. The show was unsettling not only for its concept but also for what it represented: a future dystopia where technology replaces humanity. And that future, unfortunately, seems closer than we thought.

This story isn't fiction. It's the reality of an industry facing the unstoppable rise of artificial intelligence, a force that threatens to forever change the way we consume entertainment. Actors, guided by their unions, didn't stand idly by. During the strike, this emerging technology became the common enemy, leading to a fierce fight in defense of their jobs. Among the most vocal was actress Fran Drescher, known for her role in The Nanny, who remained firm in her rejection of AI advances in cinema.

On the other side, an unexpected ally emerged: Quentin Tarantino. The director of Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill has been a staunch defender of traditional filmmaking methods. For him, special effects and artificial intelligence have no place in his vision of cinema. Tarantino's films are marked by their emphasis on dialogue, performances, and authenticity, something AI cannot replicate. His cinema is visceral, raw, and deeply human.

However, not everyone in the industry thinks the same way. Robert Rodriguez, director of films like El Mariachi and Sin City, has embraced special effects and digital technology as fundamental elements of his work. Rodriguez, who considers Tarantino a friend and colleague, sees artificial intelligence as a powerful tool that can take cinema to new heights. Recently, in his film Hypnotic, starring Ben Affleck, he decided to take an unexpected turn: foregoing special effects and immersing himself in a deeper, more complex narrative, much like Christopher Nolan's style. A film that, without the need for digital artifice, manages to keep viewers on the edge of their seats.

But how do actors react to this threat of technological dehumanization? Some, like Nicolas Cage, remain firm in their stance against the use of their digital image without consent. Cage, known for his eccentric roles and unique style, has promised to sue anyone who uses his face without permission. The idea of being replaced by a digitized version of himself, without his soul and essence, is unacceptable to him. Who would want to watch a movie starring an AI that imitates Nicolas Cage's face, but not his magic?

On the other hand, there are those willing to explore the possibilities of artificial intelligence in cinema. One name that has been gaining relevance is Harmony Korine, a director who, in his early days, aligned himself with the minimalist cinema of figures like Thomas Vinterberg and Lars Von Trier. But over time, Korine has begun experimenting with AI and visual effects, seeking to create sensory experiences beyond the conventional. In his own words, he's tired of linear cinema, the kind that follows the predictable formula of beginning, middle, and end. Now, what he seeks is a freer, more fluid form of art that breaks the barriers of traditional narrative.

Curiously, Korine isn't the only filmmaker who thinks this way. Directors like Werner Herzog, John Cassavetes, and Rainer Werner Fassbinder, in their time, also challenged cinema's more traditional conventions. Today, instead of rejecting AI, Korine sees it as an ally capable of expanding the boundaries of what cinema can offer. In his mind, artificial intelligence isn't a threat, but a tool that can help create immersive, almost tangible experiences for the viewer.

What's at stake here is much more than actors' employment or cinema's artistic purity. Artificial intelligence isn't just transforming the entertainment industry; it's rewriting the rules of the game. What does it mean to be an "actor" in a world where machines can replicate emotions, gestures, and dialogue with terrifying precision? What remains of art when machines take control of creation?

Dissenting voices, like those of Cage and Drescher, advocate for a future where humanity remains at the center of artistic creation. But avant-garde filmmakers like Korine believe cinema's future lies in the fusion between human and digital, a fusion that can open new doors to forms of expression we can only dream of today.

Technology, in its various forms, is already here. It's no longer just another tool on the film set. Artificial intelligence doesn't just create images; it can write scripts, direct scenes, and even simulate performances. Is this the end of cinema as we know it? Or is it just the beginning of a new era, one where the boundaries between reality and fiction dissolve?