Will AI Produce the Next Blockbuster?
On a chilly Sunday afternoon, I curl up on the sofa to watch Gilda on my laptop. Watching what we want when we want it is what we had dreamed of. And yet, seeing Rita Hayworth’s face filling a laptop’s screen — or even a 65-inch TV — on her first appearance is not as bewitching as watching her on a large screen along with hundreds of others would have been. Then, for a fleeting moment, every man in the audience wished to be her mate, and every woman felt just as beautiful. Then, she was the collective dream and the magic of cinema was alive.
Up until a few years ago, going to the movies was a night’s entertainment. One saw a movie with friends or lovers. Afterward, there were conversations, most likely over a meal — at least a cup of coffee. It was a social occasion. Now watching a movie is a solitary pursuit. Even when you watch with others, you can walk away. You don’t dress up for a night of streaming, it is not an occasion.
To get you to the movie house, the heroes and villains must have superpowers — mostly destructive — even when they are serving “good”. A woman fighting her way through a misogynistic world without shouting feminist slogans, and falling for a drifter seeking redemption can no longer make a movie enticing. For a movie to sell in the movie house, it must have car chases, shootings, asteroids aiming for the earth, men and women climbing glass-faced skyscrapers carrying super-duper weaponry, and a model-like ravishing woman in stilettos and long red satin dress who can kill with her bare hands or legs.
What is most distressing is the loss of the sense of community. There is no shared laughter, no collective gasp, and certainly, no water cooler discussion on Monday. The time when Hollywood — or Cinecitta or Bollywood — created our mutual dream is gone.
For over a century, movies replaced the storytellers of yore. With wide eyes, we were mesmerized by the story told on the larger-than-life screen; we were moved by the fate of the characters; we were transported to new vistas. Who hasn’t cried at the end of “Love Story”? fallen in love with the desert by the time credits rolls on “Lawrence of Arabia.” Or could ever forget the face of Sean Connery filling the scene, uttering, “my name is Bond, James Bond”?
None of this happens in the streaming, even if you are watching those movies. Trust me, I know.
Instead, what we have is a steady diet of badly written and acted cliché movies, followed by series and miniseries. Like drinking diet soda, we watch more and feel less satisfied!
It wouldn’t be long before some entrepreneur starts movie AI, churning out old movie scripts and scenes to create a large model for movies. Then to satisfy our voracious appetite for entertainment, you can type the genre you wish, desired features, and even the actors you want to see. And out comes not only a script but a ready-to-edit film using deep fakes of the long-dead stars, all customized for you. We will have new Marcello Mastroianni Italian realism and Marilyn Monroe dramas. It doesn’t matter that they are devoid of heart like DALLI-e pictures and ChatGPT texts. It is cheap entertainment. Fast to make and profitable for the makers.
As much as you thought of old Hollywood as corny, these will be worse. Our dreams and myths are all made of virtual junk!
