There’s something magical about watching an actor hold an Oscar.
Maybe it’s the tears glinting in their eyes—maybe it's the quiet battles that we as the audience fight inside ourselves as we search their faces for a glimpse of authenticity. In an industry built on smokescreens and dream factories, is the actor’s tear–ridden acceptance speech just more acting? Or is it real?
Maybe it’s those rare candid moments, the ones where an actor says something so unexpected and so real in their acceptance speech that we can’t help but fall in love with them.
Or maybe it's something we can't explain, but can only feel. It all boils down to the power of stardom—a kind of captivating spell that actors cast, first on the agents who sign them and then on us, the audience.
Whatever the reason for this magic, one thing remains the same: Actors are human. Their achievements—whether an Academy Award, a breakout role, or a real change they inspire through their art—are a testament to their hard work trying to break through in an industry hinged on prestige, nepotism, and backroom deals. No matter how highly we may idolize them, they are no different than us, and they are only irreplaceable because we, the audience, are the ones who gifted them with their stardom.
But how could we possibly gift that same stardom to an actor who isn’t even real?
In September of 2025, Hollywood sounded the alarm bells when it was discovered that talent agencies were considering signing Tilly Norwood, an artificial intelligence actor created by comedian Eline Van der Velden and her AI production company, Particle6. Van der Velden was unprepared for the massive backlash she received after posting a video of Norwood announcing herself as the world’s first AI actor. Later statements about Norwood receiving possible agency representation spurred further panic, and a recently released Norwood music video that urges actors to embrace AI has kept debates about the Norwood spectacle raging through the industry.
So what about this debate has everyone in entertainment so riled up? It’s not news that production companies are using AI–generated actors as extras to lower production costs. AI has been praised by those like Kevin O’Leary for being a cost–cutting tool for film projects, allowing productions to save millions. Industry leaders like Ben Affleck and Pulp Fiction co–writer Roger Avary have been building up AI production companies—Netflix has already acquired Affleck’s company InterPositive, and Avary has said that attaching the terms “AI” and “technology” to his projects has attracted significant support from investors. Meanwhile, Disney recently signed a multi–year agreement with OpenAI to license 200 of its iconic characters to Sora2—in other words, Mickey Mouse and his friends are getting spammed with ChatGPT for years to come. Investors and other key industry players see AI as the new frontier of human storytelling. Major breakthroughs like talking pictures, home television, and computer–generated imaging transformed the entertainment industry—so too, it seems, will AI.
But just because AI can deliver results doesn’t mean that we should be quick to hop on the bandwagon. For one, audiences have already started experiencing AI fatigue, growing tired and annoyed of seeing so much AI–generated content on their feeds. Because of its universal accessibility and low learning curve, AI use has been linked by some researchers to “brain fry,” or cognitive decline. Members of Screen Actors Guild–American Federation of Television and Radio Artists have also become worried by AI platforms' use of actor likenesses without compensation or consent and are actively championing frameworks to protect member rights. Background actors hoping for their big breaks fear that AI–generated extras are creating additional barriers, challenging their ability to get their start in the business.
So what is it about AI actors that has the industry so panicked? Perhaps it's the fact that talent agencies were seriously considering signing Norwood for representation. Despite the fears her creation has spurred, Van der Velden claims that people have no reason to believe Norwood will ever replace real human actors. Instead, she explained that she created Norwood to live in an ecosystem of AI movies, a new genre she believes will eventually be populated with more AI–generated actors.
The biggest question is whether we should have reason to believe that audiences will consume this type of content. AI has already been slowly but surely creeping into traditional filmmaking. In 2025, Oscar front–runner The Brutalist was met with severe backlash after it was discovered that the filmmakers used AI to enhance Hungarian language dialogue for its lead actors. Productions are using AI to resurrect deceased actors like Val Kilmer. Netflix recently announced its plans to roll out AI–generated advertising across its slate of shows and films. No matter where we look, we will continue to consume AI–generated content, whether we want to or not.
Is all of this an attempt to gradually desensitize audiences to AI–generated content? And if so, could we see the rise of an AI film genre that eventually becomes profitable and widely accepted by audiences?
Not necessarily. Norwood may have doe eyes, but she’s also limited by the digital space she occupies. And with ads, brain rot, and AI slop constantly bombarding our feeds, it’s no surprise that we may move into an era where audiences seek greater authenticity away from the addictive world of screens.
This year’s Academy Awards are surely a testament to our yearning for greater authenticity as we drown in digital media and nonstop stimuli. Sinners is Ryan Coogler’s original concept, born out of an unexpected but delightful melding of genres; Hamnet, at its core, urges us to get back in touch with the natural world and understand our place in it; One Battle After Another, winning Best Picture, is a testament to and celebration of Paul Thomas Anderson’s entire career, built on original storytelling and his unique voice as a filmmaker.
Norwood can act in whatever Van der Velden wants her to. And Van der Velden, in turn, can argue that Norwood is an artistic creation that took real humans time and care to develop. But Norwood and any other AI–generated actors who may follow will never replace true stardom—especially since they will only live in AI–generated films audiences may not even embrace. The old saying still stands: stars aren’t born, they are made. They're made not through zeroes and ones, but by commanding a presence on screen, building their body of work across multiple projects, and living with an unstoppable devotion to the craft of acting.
You might ask who makes the stars we know and love today. The most obvious answer would be talent agents—and you would be right, sort of. An agent’s job is to cultivate that initial spark of “je ne sais quoi” they glimpsed within an actor throughout negotiations and deals. But it is ultimately the audience that truly creates a star. We fill seats in theaters. We are the entire reason this industry exists in the first place. What we want dictates the future of storytelling.
And right now, more than ever, we want stories about humans, by humans.
