At Hengdian World Studios, filmmaking has moved from craft to industrial process. Here, AI is not a peripheral aid but a cohesive system stretching from idea to distribution. Scripts are analyzed, character arcs optimized, audience reactions simulated, environments generated, and scenes adjusted in real time. The outcome is not a handful of prestige productions, but thousands of short-form narratives—micro dramas—designed for mobile screens and rapid consumption.

It is tempting to dismiss this as content manufacturing rather than cinematic art. But that misses the point. China is not asking how do we make better films? It is asking how do we build a system that produces stories at the pace society consumes them? This is an engineering approach to storytelling, where efficiency, iteration, and scale outweigh individualism.

This does not threaten classic cinema—but it does threaten production models built on slowness, high costs, and manual workflows.

Hollywood: the citadel of creativity—and its dilemma

Hollywood has always been paradoxical. It is both the world’s most commercial and most mythologized film center. Dreams are born here—but so are the strongest protections around roles, professions, and rights.

AI already exists in Hollywood, but in carefully controlled forms. It analyzes scripts, assists with previsualization, streamlines VFX pipelines, and is used aggressively in marketing. What it is not allowed to do—at least not openly—is shape the core of creative authorship. Not for technical reasons, but for cultural and legal ones.

Unions, copyright frameworks, star systems, and entrenched power structures mean Hollywood moves cautiously. Every efficiency risks becoming an existential threat to a profession. Every automation raises the question: who loses their job?

Hollywood’s strength remains its storytelling tradition, character-driven narratives, and global distribution machinery. Its weakness is equally clear: its systems were built for another era. In a world where stories are produced faster than ever, Hollywood risks mastering slowness in a market that no longer waits.

Europe: film as cultural heritage

In Europe, film has long been more than an industry. It has been cultural policy, identity, and artistic expression. This is evident in how AI is received. At Babelsberg Studios—Europe’s oldest film studio—AI is used selectively: in archive restoration, post-production, and experimental projects where technology remains subordinate to narrative.

There is a deeply rooted skepticism toward letting algorithms shape content. Not because the technology lacks potential, but because film in Europe is often seen as a human conversation rather than a product. Public funding models are built on this very principle: the human as creator, not the system.

But this position comes at a cost. European cinema is often slow, expensive, and limited in reach. It can be brilliant—yet rarely scalable. In an AI-driven world, Europe risks becoming the equivalent of handcrafted goods: highly valued, but peripheral.

The United Kingdom: the bridge-builder

The UK occupies a unique position. With Pinewood Studios and London’s extensive VFX ecosystem, the country has become a technical bridge between Hollywood’s narrative power and Europe’s craft tradition. Here, AI and real-time rendering are used pragmatically—not to replace creativity, but to amplify it.

Virtual production, LED volumes, and game engines have turned British studios into hubs for global co-productions. AI is accepted as long as it serves the director, the cinematographer, and the performer—not the other way around. It is a delicate balance, but so far a successful one.

The challenge is dependency. Much of the financing comes from American studios. Strategic decisions are often made elsewhere. The UK is technologically leading—but rarely the owner of the system.

Eastern Europe: the possible future

In the shadow of the major film nations, another opportunity is emerging. At Boyana Film Studios in Sofia, international productions have long benefited from lower costs, skilled crews, and flexible infrastructure. What is missing is not competence—but an indigenous technological vision.

Here lies perhaps the greatest potential. Less rigid union structures. Lower investment thresholds. A generation of creators not bound by old hierarchies. With the right investment, Eastern Europe could become the laboratory for AI-driven hybrid production—where human creativity and automated workflows meet without ideological resistance.

The real question is who dares to move from service provider to system builder.

Two worldviews—one future

What we are witnessing is not a battle between good and evil, art and machine. It is a collision between two ways of seeing film:

The Western worldview, where AI is a tool in human hands.
The Chinese worldview, where humans are components within a larger system.

One prioritizes depth, identity, and originality.
The other prioritizes speed, accessibility, and volume.

Both are right—and both are incomplete.

Final thoughts: the new geography of film

AI is changing not only how films are made, but where power over storytelling resides. Those who own the systems control the pace. Those who control the infrastructure define the possibilities.

Hollywood will not disappear. Europe will not fall silent. But if the West continues to see AI as a threat rather than as architecture, it risks being locked into a permanent reactive position.

China is building highways. The West is debating traffic laws.

The question is not whether we will drive.
The question is who dares to build the road—without forgetting why we tell stories in the first place.