There is a feeling that is hard to put into words, but more and more of us sense it when we scroll through our social media feeds. Something feels off. Something looks right at first glance but doesn’t quite feel authentic. A film clip where the light falls strangely. A face where the eyes seem empty. A smile that doesn’t move the whole face. We notice it—even if we can’t fully explain why. And almost always, the explanation is the same: it’s AI-generated.
This "off-ness" is our time’s uncanny valley. Our brains have been trained for hundreds of thousands of years to read nuances in body language, eyes, tone of voice, and micro-movements. When something is missing, we react instinctively. The light isn’t natural, the eyes have no soul, the movement is too mechanical. It’s like looking at a doll that has almost, but not quite, come alive.
Where AI Film Works Today
That doesn’t mean AI-generated films are worthless—far from it. They already work brilliantly in areas where human depth is not required. For products, dead spaces, and advertising, AI is already gold. A perfume bottle spinning in the air. A car gliding through a futuristic city. A pair of sneakers exploding into colorful patterns. We don’t care about the soul here—it’s enough that the eye is visually pleased.
AI can also fill dead spaces—screens in stores, backgrounds at concerts, digital facades. These need movement and aesthetics, not human presence. And as a tool for concepts and prototypes, AI is revolutionary. What just a few years ago required weeks of 3D modeling can now be created in seconds: an idea for a new store, a prototype for an app, a futuristic city that only exists as a vision.
And let’s not forget the surreal. AI excels when we want things to feel a little unreal: melting landscapes, endless transformations, music videos where reality and fantasy blend. In these cases, the lifeless eyes aren’t a problem—they are part of the charm.
The Speed of Development
It’s easy to forget how quickly this is happening. Just a few years ago, the world’s top VFX companies struggled with something as "simple" as hair. Getting a single strand to move naturally, reflect light correctly, and interact with wind was an enormous challenge. Entire teams were built to handle nothing but hair, fur, or fabric.
Today, an AI can generate a complete hairstyle in seconds. Sure, it sometimes still looks plasticky, but the difference is monumental. What was once "mission impossible" is now everyday work. This means that the flaws that give AI away today—eyes without depth, body language without soul—will likely be solved sooner than we think. The question is not if, but when.
The Actor of the Future
But this brings us to perhaps the most existential question for the world of cinema: Who will be the actor of the future? Is it a person we can meet at a Comicon, shake hands with, feel the perfume or sweat of? Or is it an AI-created figure that never existed in reality?
The actor of the future may be entirely digital. Created from scratch, with no human origin. Perfect face, perfect body, perfect voice. A star that never ages, never makes mistakes, never falls ill. They can play all roles, in all genres, forever.
There may also be hybrids. Humans lending their voice, movements, and emotions for AI to build upon. Where we can no longer tell who we actually saw on the screen. Was it the actor—or the algorithm?
And finally—maybe it’s the audience itself. We may get custom-made films where the protagonist looks and acts exactly as we want. Everyone can create their own star, their own hero. It becomes democratic, but also fragmented. We no longer share the same icon.
What We Lose
It all sounds technically impressive, but we must also face what we lose.
When we see a human actor, we don’t just see a role. We see a journey. We saw Clint Eastwood grow from a young gunslinger into an old man with piercing eyes and shaky hands. We saw Harrison Ford transform from youthful adventurer to aging icon. We saw Meryl Streep develop a presence and depth that only life experience can provide.
We age with our stars. Their wrinkles become our wrinkles. Their weight becomes a mirror of our own lives. That is why we can cry with an actor we’ve watched for decades—not because they are perfect, but because they have carried their lives onto the screen.
An AI actor can never give us that. They can jump between ages, play a 20-year-old in one film and a 50-year-old in the next, and then return to 30. But it’s all an illusion. There is no real journey, no body weathered by time, no soul that has grown. Just eternal plasticity.
What We Gain
At the same time, we do gain something. We gain eternal icons. James Dean can return. Marilyn Monroe can star in a Netflix series. Chaplin can play in a Marvel movie. We get a historical remix that never ends.
We also gain freedom. Actors can become dragons, robots, humans—all within the same film. They can live in thousands of worlds without limitations. And anyone can be an actor—with AI, you and I could star in an action movie tomorrow.
But again: what does that do to our relationship with film, with stories, with ourselves?
The Core Question – Authenticity
Ultimately, this isn’t about technology—it’s about authenticity. Humans have an instinctive ability to sense what is alive and what is constructed. AI can refine, beautify, and create illusions. But can it ever create soul?
It’s the same debate as when synthesizers appeared in the 1980s. Many thought the guitar was dead. But the guitar didn’t disappear—it found a new role alongside the synth. Maybe this will be the same. AI will take over surfaces—backgrounds, products, effects. Humans will remain the core—eyes, bodies, souls.
The End of the Shared Journey?
Perhaps the greatest loss is not even the lifeless eyes on the screen. It is that we can no longer share a life journey with a star. We will never see an AI actor grow old. Never see them progress from debut to veteran. Never see them lean on a cane and give us one final iconic role before the curtain falls for good.
The human element in film is not just about the illusion of a story—it’s about knowing that the actor has truly been there. That their life has flowed parallel to ours. When we see them old, we see ourselves old. When they die, we don’t just mourn a star—we mourn a piece of our own lives.
AI can give us eternal youth, but it can never give us that.
Conclusion
We stand at a crossroads. AI film is developing at lightning speed and will soon be able to imitate almost everything. But the real question is not what technology can do, but what we want. Do we want eternal icons that never change—or do we want to continue following human beings of flesh and blood, with wrinkles, flaws, and soul?
I believe the answer will be both. Just as the synth and guitar found balance, AI and humans will coexist on the silver screen. AI will fill the surfaces, humans will give the soul.
But one thing is certain: we will never age together with an AI star. And perhaps it is precisely in that realization that we discover the difference between illusion and life.
By Chris...