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R. Scott Gemmill, the creator and showrunner of “The Pitt,” has always felt comfortable in a hospital.

He initially had ambitions of going into medicine — he studied gerontology, which explores the processes and problems of aging, and did some volunteer work at hospitals. He also took a nurse assistant course.

“I really thought I was going to try and get into a med school,” he said recently while seated in the recognizable lobby of the show’s fictional hospital set on the Warner Bros. lot in Burbank. “I just wanted to have a job and medicine seemed like there was always going to be a need. I’m comfortable in a hospital. I wish I followed through on a certain level because I loved that ability to go in and solve problems. But my writing kicked in and that’s it — I never went back.”

But in TV land’s school of medicine, Gemmill has gone far. He did a rotation at Chicago’s County General Hospital, joining the writing staff of NBC’s popular medical drama “ER” in its sixth season. And now his turn at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, through HBO Max’s “The Pitt,” has been a breakout success, revitalizing the medical drama genre with a fresh spin on the format — each episode tracks one hour in a shift — and energizing its audience with a traditional weekly rollout. The Emmy-winning series returned Thursday for its second season that revolves around a shift on the Fourth of July. But the fireworks arrived well before that, with HBO Max announcing on the eve of the show’s premiere that the drama has been renewed for a third season.

In the hiatus before shooting began on this season’s finale, Gemmill, whose other TV credits include “Jag” and “NCIS: Los Angeles,” talked about the show’s momentum heading into the new season, navigating how personal to get with characters, and introducing a new doctor to the mix.

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1. Noah Wyle as Dr. Robby in Season 2 of “The Pitt.” (Warrick Page / HBO Max) 2. From left: Sepideh Moafi as Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi, Taylor Dearden as Dr. Melissa King, Katherine LaNasa as charge nurse Dana Evans, Gerran Howell as Dr. Dennis Whitaker and Supriya Ganesh as Dr. Samira Mohan in “The Pitt.” (Warrick Page / HBO Max)

You started breaking Season 2 last January, as people were discovering the show week to week. People love to be critical of sophomore seasons of a breakout hit. How did that shape the second season for you and the writers?

It was weird because we wrote [Season 1] without any feedback. Not just wrote it — we shot it and produced it. We had started thinking about Season 2 before people had responded. It was a slow build. I felt like the healthcare professionals found us first, then spread through word of mouth. We were just moving forward with what we thought were the next stages of these characters’ lives. It wasn’t until later on that the accolades came and there was more pressure then. When we first started, we didn’t know if anybody was going to watch or not. We had finished it without any pressure whatsoever because nobody had weighed in on it. It was a very rarefied situation, which was nice. We hope for the best. And it seemed to work out OK. There’s a little bit of concern going into the second season because we were successful, you wonder, can you maintain that? But we try not to focus on that, and just really focus on the characters and the stories and do what we did the first season — tell really authentic, strong stories.

The season picks up 10 months after that initial shift where we met everyone. How did you decide on the time jump, landing on July 4?

It really came from wanting to have Langdon [Patrick Ball] back, so I knew he had to do about 10 months of rehab. Then we were looking at what time of year would that be. We’re also somewhat limited by when we shoot in Pittsburgh. We decided to do the Fourth of July because it comes with a bunch of shenanigans.

Season 2 opens with a helmet-less Robby riding in on a motorcycle.

The motorcycle goes back to some part of Robby’s past. We don’t really talk about it, but it has a link to his father, and his father being a tinkerer of old cars and Robby needing a vacation, a hiatus of sorts. Pennsylvania is a no-helmet law [state]. And some of us who have motorcycles sometimes enjoy riding them without a motor helmet. It’s not a smart thing to do, and it speaks to Robby’s current attitude of a certain amount of carelessness on his part.

Yes, we learn that he’s going to be taking a three-month sabbatical. How soon will we discover what led to that? Is it an amalgamation of different things?

Yeah, he’s long overdue for a vacation. He knows that something’s not working in his life and this is one way he thinks that he can fix things.

How did you land on Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump in Canada as his choice for a getaway?

It was a place I knew about and it just sounded like an interesting place for him to go that has some foreboding associations with it.

A new doctor, Baran Al-Hashimi (Sepideh Moafi), center, is brought in to oversee the ER unit on the eve of Dr. Robby’s (Noah Wyle) three-month sabbatical.

(Warrick Page / HBO Max)

The season introduces a new character, Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi, played by Sepideh Moafi, who’s going to be taking over when Robby is out. She’s an advocate of generative AI and trying to get everyone on board with this idea of saving time with charting. What were your conversations with doctors in the field about that topic and what intrigued you about how healthcare professionals are thinking about this technology?

She’s someone who’s a little different with her approach, a little more contemporary and forward, as opposed to Robby; he bridges contemporary medicine and old-school medicine with his relationship that he had with Dr. Adamson, who showed him a lot of the old-school techniques that he still has in his wheelhouse if he needs them. AI is pretty much here to stay and it’s infiltrating every aspect of our lives — medicine is no exception. I would say it’s still in its infancy in the ER, but there are ways that it’s trying to be implemented. Like any other tool, it has potential to be used wisely and potential for disaster. We’re not really exploring the disastrous side of it yet but just what the realities are. The fear is that it will make the doctors more efficient, especially with things like charting, but then will that time go back to the patients or will they just have to see more patients? And so they’ll have even less time. That’s the challenge at this point.

How do you feel about it in your own industry?

I try not to think about it. I guess I’m probably in denial more than anything. I don’t have any place for it and I don’t really want to really know too much about it at this point.

We see a lightness to Robby this season. He’s involved in a situationship at work. This is a workplace drama. It hasn’t shown us the interior lives of its staff beyond the nuggets they share during their shift. How much do you want the viewers to know about them versus how much do you want your actors to just understand their characters?

It comes with the job. He’s not a monk. He’s in a relationship of convenience more than anything. I don’t think he’s a long-term planner. The fact that he hasn’t had a vacation in forever is proof of that. Robby is very good at putting on a good face until he’s not. I think what we’ll see over the course of the season is that facade start to slide.

It’s a process. The 15-hour nature of the show limits how much of that information you can dole out organically, but it also allows you to be authentic in terms of how much you actually learn about someone in a day. Most of us not just spilling our guts and saying our life story to the people we work with. As we start the season, we’ll think about: What is the journey we’re going to take this character on, and what information needs to be learned in order to achieve that? And then what medical stories will help maybe bring that out. You do it in little layers.

Is there something coming up that you think will be particularly illuminating?

There’s some stuff about Robby. We pulled back a lot on it, but we’ll learn a little bit about him. We’ll learn some things about Whitaker [Gerran Howell]. We know what Langdon is going through, his marriage.

After taking leave to seek treatment for prescription drug addiction, Dr. Frank Langdon (Patrick Ball) returns to work in “The Pitt.”

(Warrick Page / HBO Max)

To stay on Langdon — physicians and people in the healthcare profession are vulnerable to addiction for a variety of reasons. What was important for you in that storyline and what did you want to explore through him?

To show somebody who’s made a mistake and was doing their best to hide it as is sometimes the pattern of behavior. I don’t think most people enjoy their addiction. So, seeing someone who’s doing their best to try and heal themselves. Just because you’re going through the program and doing the steps, it doesn’t mean everyone’s going to welcome you back with open arms. There are still some bad feelings and you have to mend some bridges and fences along the way.

It’s not just Robby and Langdon. Langdon feels he owes a sort of mea culpa to almost everyone he works with, especially Santos [Isa Briones]. And whether or not she’s willing to accept that is debatable. Robby, obviously, has some really strong feelings about it because Langdon was his student, and he made Robby look kind of stupid. Robby is angry at himself for not seeing it.

How are you figuring out who’s going to shuffle in and out?

Some of it’s based on the reality; for instance — I was thinking of this today — next season would be Whitaker’s third year, so he has one more year to stay here, and then he would have to go. It’s really about where they are in their careers and what makes the most sense story-wise.

I want to talk about some of the procedures and cases that we’ll see this season because they’re pretty gnarly. Do you keep a log of cases and try to figure out how they can fit into the story as you go?

We never really start with the medicine. Sometimes we say the medicine is the wallpaper that reflects everything in the room, but what’s going on between the characters is really what’s at stake, and it’s either something going on between them and the patient, between the doctors and nurses, or internally. Ideally, it touches on a little bit of everything.

When we came back, I probably had 150 ideas of just cases. I don’t know how many of them we actually did. We had never done a hot toddler story, [where a child was overheated] but that is something that’s a real problem. That was one where we knew we were going to try and do that story, but whose is it going to be? Who does it reflect most? Then we work backwards into it. We pull from everywhere — things we think of, things we’ve heard, things we imagine. We don’t really do ripped-from-the-headlines, but we do things that seem like that because a lot of times we’re talking to professionals, asking them what was concerning them. What do they worry about? We’re extrapolating their concerns. That’s what happened with [Season 1’s] measles story. There was no measles outbreak when we wrote that story, but we knew, based on what was going on, that there would be eventually, and we just happened that the timing was in our favor.

Is there like a line you won’t cross in terms of squirm factor? Have you had to pull back?

I don’t think so, because we’ve never done anything for the sake of that. We’ve never done anything that’s not done in the ER. As long as it serves a story and a character, then I think it’s fair. We do something big for the finale that Abbot [Shawn Hatosy] and Robby are doing with a bunch of others — it takes all hands on deck. I’m interested to see how that comes out, and I’ve seen elements of it now that are terrific.

Can you share more of what kinds of topics or cases we’ll be seeing this season?

We did a sexual assault, [and] we’re looking at how budget cuts are affecting healthcare. There’s a story about someone who’s been rationing their insulin and the downsides of that.

When the One Big Beautiful Bill Act was signed into law by the president, did you have a lot of calls with professionals?

Oh, yeah, because it’s a huge issue. You figure out with the changes in the Affordable Care Act, if you suddenly have 8 to 10 million people that don’t have insurance, what’s going to happen is they’re going to stop going to their doctors. Anything that was an issue is going to get exacerbated by not being treated. So, where do they end up? Well, they’re going to end up in the ER, but they’re going to be even sicker than they would have been. We’re going to get more people, and their conditions are going to be worse. It only makes what’s already a strained system even more likely to break. Because we were just starting to shoot in the summertime, we could make some adjustments, but I don’t remember going back and changing things. We saw it coming.

I know there had been some discussion about an ICE story? Will we see that this season?

Yes, we have some ICE agents show up, and how that affects people in the hospital. That’s been a tricky one to try and get right without being heavy-handed and being fair to everyone on both sides of that conversation. What else do we do this year? Some fun stuff. The kind of things you would expect over the Fourth of July weekend.

How do you feel about the shipping that’s taking shape with “The Pitt” fan base?

I’m not on social media, I’m not really a part of that. My writers would tell me about things like that. The Langdon-Mel of it — I’m like, he’s married. That’s more of a big brother relationship. And Abbot and Robby — I just sort of shake my head. Our show’s not really like that. It’s not a show where people are sneaking off to have sex in a closet or anything. Those things are very subtle. And we do see a little bit this season between a couple of people, but it’s very much secondary because it’s not something we actually see, per se.

Just as he did last season, Noah Wyle is writing again this season. He’s also directing. Tell me what it’s like when you have the lead of your show involved in different aspects of the show’s creative elements?

It’s really great because he’s up to speed on everything. And because he is the centerpiece of the show, I rely on Noah a lot for guidance and help figuring out how to steer through all the icebergs. He’s a good writer and he’s a good director, and it just adds a whole other level to the writers room, in terms of the connection between us and the set. He’s there right up until, basically, we start shooting. Even when we are shooting, if he has a day off, he’s in the room or we’ll do meetings at lunchtime so he can join in and weigh in. It was Noah’s idea to do the Shema prayer for his breakdown. That was a very coordinated effort because I knew I was asking a lot of him. That’s what’s really nice about having Noah be a writer and a director. He has the vernacular to have these conversations about what he needs from me to get him to where he needs to be. It’s a very symbiotic relationship.

R. Scott Gemmill on the pressure that comes with having a breakout hit: “There’s a little bit of concern going into the second season because we were successful, you wonder, can you maintain that? But we try not to focus on that, and just really focus on the characters and the stories and do what we did the first season — tell really authentic, strong stories.”

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Do you ever worry about him being overextended?

Yes. That’s why I don’t mind when he has a day off. But he’s just gonna fill it with work.

In Hollywood, when something’s a success, there’s an immediate impulse to figure out a way to broaden that success. Has there been talks of spinoffs, ways to build out the universe?

No, not really. We’ve talked about doing a night shift. In time, maybe that’s something we’ll explore. The show still has lots of life in it, so I wouldn’t want to distract from what we’re doing now. But I think there’s a potential to do all the craziness that comes out at night.

Like Dr. Al-Hashimi, you’ve had experience being the newcomer joining a well-oiled machine. Tell me about becoming a writer on “ER” in Season 6.

I hated it when I first went on. They had done so many stories already, and there were multiple stories told per episode, so they had gone through so many stories that it seemed like anything I suggested was already done. They all felt like Ivy League professors and I was a college dropout; I felt like I so didn’t belong there. I remember calling my wife and saying, “I hate this. This is horrible. I should never have left ‘Jag.’” But over time, I found my way and found my voice on the show.

That was the season with one of the episodes I revisit often — when Dr. Carter (Wyle) gets stabbed.

I remember having a big debate over whether Kellie Martin’s eyes should be open or closed. I was adamant that she had to have her eyes open. I’m glad I won, but that was intense. The whole show was very intense.

George Clooney has teased that he would be open to the idea of appearing on “The Pitt.” Could you see a world where that happens?

I take that with a grain of salt but, hey, I’m up for anything. I’ll try anything once.

What I appreciated about the season finale last year, especially in this world of TV where you feel like you need to have this epic cliffhanger, was how true to life it felt. Since you’ll be shooting the finale in January, what can you share about how you’re thinking about it?

There’s something really fun at the end of this season. I hope that we do it as a little Easter egg for the fans in the finale, so I’m looking forward to doing that.

Kevin Hart is almost impossible to avoid.

The stand-up comic turned actor has spent the past decade as one of Hollywood’s most bankable and visible stars, headlining megahits like the “Jumanji” films alongside a steady output of comedies and animated features, while still selling out arena tours and releasing hit Netflix comedy specials. Off-screen, his face turns up everywhere: pitching banking apps, tequila and energy drinks.

For a long time, that kind of omnipresence carried real security in Hollywood.

In the era of artificial intelligence, though, that guarantee has begun to erode. A quick Google search for “Kevin Hart AI” turns up unofficial versions of his voice, available with a few clicks.

A series on how the AI revolution is reshaping the creative foundations of Hollywood — from storytelling and performance to production, labor and power.

That helps explain why, one evening last month on the Fox lot, the head of Hart’s entertainment company, Hartbeat, was on an industry panel talking not about box office or release strategies but AI. Jeff Clanagan painted a picture of a landscape in which movie stardom is no longer protected by traditional channels, as attention splinters across platforms and audiences fragment. In that environment, AI can be both a risk and a lever.

“The most valuable resource right now is attention,” Clanagan told the audience of 150 studio executives, filmmakers, investors and technologists gathered at Hollywood X, an invitation-only event focused on responsible adoption of AI. “You’re competing for it everywhere — everybody is always on a second screen. That fragmentation is where the disruption is.”

Hollywood was built on the idea that a small number of stars could reliably command attention and turn it into leverage. As AI and algorithm-driven platforms reshape how attention is created and distributed, even the most recognizable names are newly exposed — not only to dilution but to the prospect of being replaced altogether.

Jeff Clanagan, right, president and chief distribution officer of Kevin Hart’s entertainment company, Hartbeat, speaking on a panel at last month’s Hollywood X event.

(Randall Michelson)

In parts of Asia, synthetic performers are no longer hypothetical. In Japan, the anime-style virtual pop star Hatsune Miku has sold out concerts and headlined festivals. In China, AI hosts run shopping streams on the video platform Douyin. And in the U.S., Lil Miquela, a computer-generated influencer created by the Los Angeles startup Brud, has amassed millions of followers and appeared in major fashion campaigns, including a Calvin Klein ad with Bella Hadid.

For studios, brands and producers, the appeal isn’t hard to see. A virtual performer doesn’t call in sick, miss a shoot or carry off-screen baggage. There’s no aging out of roles, no scheduling crunch. They don’t need trailers, negotiate contracts or arrive with riders, entourages and expense accounts in tow.

The old mythology was that a star might be discovered at Schwab’s lunch counter or in an audition room. Hollywood has always chased the “it factor.” What happens when the performer is, quite literally, an it?

That question came into sharp focus this fall with the appearance of Tilly Norwood, a photorealistic, AI-generated character that took the guise of a rising British actor, styled to read mid-20s and approachable — exactly the kind of star Hollywood is always looking for.

It landed in an industry already on edge. Hollywood was still reeling from strikes, layoffs and a prolonged contraction, with anxiety about AI simmering just below the surface. The response was immediate and visceral.

SAG-AFTRA warned that projects like Tilly risked relying on what the union called “stolen performances,” arguing that AI-generated actors draw on the work of real performers without consent or compensation, concerns that were central to the union’s 2023 strike. On a Variety podcast, Emily Blunt was shown an image of Tilly and paused. “No — are you serious? That’s an AI?” she said. “Good Lord, we’re screwed.”

SAG-AFTRA members march in one “Unity Picket” on strike day 111 at Walt Disney Studios in Burbank on Nov. 1, 2023.

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

Even some of Hollywood’s most tech-forward figures have drawn a line. On the press tour for his latest film, “Avatar: Fire and Ash,” James Cameron — the director who once warned of Skynet in “The Terminator” — called the idea of AI replacing actors “horrifying,” arguing that human performance would become increasingly “sacred.”

Yves Bergquist, an AI researcher who directs the AI in Media Project at the USC Entertainment Technology Center — a think tank supported by major studios and technology companies — expects AI to continue to encroach on territory once reserved solely for humans.

“Will we see AI movie stars?” Bergquist asks. “Probably.” But he draws a line between what the technology can generate and what audiences are willing to invest in emotionally.

“Prince writing his songs is a great story,” he says. “Pushing a button and making music is not. Very soon — it’s already starting — we’re going to have this us-versus-them mentality. These are the machines and we’re the humans. And we’re not the same.”

The actor that didn’t exist

“Are you allowed to speak to me from L.A.?” Eline van der Velden, the creator of Tilly Norwood, asks with a quick, nervous laugh on a video call from London — a nod to how radioactive the subject of synthetic performers has become.

The question isn’t entirely a joke. Three months ago, when Van der Velden presented her latest project at an industry conference in Zurich, it touched off one of Hollywood’s most heated debates yet over AI and performance, one that still hasn’t fully cooled.

Van der Velden, 39, came up as an actor before pivoting into production, eventually landing in London, where she founded Particle6, a digital production company known for short-form video work for broadcasters and major platforms. She was in Zurich to introduce its newest offshoot, Xicoia, an AI studio designed to build and manage original synthetic characters for entertainment, advertising and social media. “It’s not a talent agency — we’re making characters,” she says. “So it’s really like a Marvel universe studio in a way.”

Eline van der Velden, creator of the AI-constructed Tilly Norwood, at Web Summit 2025 in Lisbon, Portugal.

(Florencia Tan Jun/Sportsfile via Getty Images)

Tilly Norwood was meant to be the first and most visible example of that approach. Conceived as a recurring character with an unfolding story arc, Tilly was built to exist across short-form videos and scripted scenarios. As part of the Zurich presentation, Van der Velden screened a short satirical video titled “AI Commissioner,” introducing Tilly as a “100% AI-generated” actor — smiling on a red carpet and breaking down on a talk-show couch.

Other short videos featuring Tilly had already circulated online, including a montage placing her in familiar movie genres and a parody riffing on Sydney Sweeney’s controversial American Eagle jeans ad (“My genes are binary”). The “AI Commissioner” video itself had been posted on YouTube months earlier. By then, photorealistic synthetic characters were no longer novel and similar experiments were spreading online.

In Hollywood, it triggered an immediate backlash. Press accounts out of Zurich, amplified by Van der Velden’s remark that Tilly might soon be signed to an agent, collided with an industry already on edge about AI. Van der Velden was stunned at the intensity of the outcry: “Tilly was meant to be for entertainment,” she says. “It’s not to be taken too seriously. I think people have taken her way too seriously.”

Across the industry, working actors, already facing shrinking opportunities, recoiled at the idea of a fabricated performer potentially taking real jobs. Some called for a boycott of any agents who might take on Norwood. Speaking to The Times, SAG-AFTRA President Sean Astin demanded that the real-life actors used for AI modeling be compensated. “They need to know that it’s happening,” he said. “They need to give permission for it and they need to be bargained with.”

As the coverage ricocheted far beyond the trades and went global, the reaction escalated just as quickly. Asked when she knew Tilly had struck a nerve, Van der Velden answers matter-of-factly: “When I got the death threats. That’s when I was like, oh — this has taken a very different turn.”

Van der Velden understands why the idea of a synthetic performer unsettled people, especially in a business already raw from layoffs, strikes and contraction. “Tilly is showing what we can do with the tech at this moment in time, and that is frightening,” she says. But she argues that much of the backlash rests on fears that, in her view, haven’t yet materialized — at least not in the way people imagine them.

Tilly Norwood, an AI construct created by Particle6.

(Particle6)

“There’s a bad reputation around AI,” she says. “People try to swing all sorts of things at it, like, ‘Oh, it’s taking my job.’ Well, I don’t know of anyone whose acting job has actually been taken by AI. And Tilly certainly hasn’t taken anyone’s job.”

Union representatives argue that displacement is already occurring through subtler mechanisms: background roles increasingly filled by digital doubles, commercials replacing actors with synthetic performers and projects that never get greenlighted because AI offers a cheaper alternative. The impact shows up not in pink slips but in opportunities that vanish before auditions are ever held.

Even as the controversy grew, Van der Velden says she began hearing something else privately. Producers and executives reached out, curious about what Tilly could do, with several asking about placing the character in traditional film or television projects — offers she says she declined. “That’s not what Tilly was made for,” she says.

Van der Velden insists the character was never intended to replace actors, framing Tilly instead as part of a different creative lineage, closer to animation. “I was an actor myself — I absolutely love actors,” she says. “I love pointing a camera at a real actress. Please don’t stop casting actors. That’s not the aim of the game.”

With a background in musical theater and physics, Van der Velden spent her early career in Los Angeles acting, improvising at Upright Citizens Brigade and making YouTube sketches. An alter ego she created, Miss Holland — designed to make fun of rigid beauty standards — won an online comedy award and helped launch her career in the U.K., where she founded Particle6.

Tilly began as an exercise: Could Van der Velden design a virtual character who felt instantly familiar, the kind of approachable young woman audiences would naturally be drawn to? “It’s like building a Barbie doll,” she says, noting at one point she considered making Tilly half robot. “I had fun making her. It was a creative itch.”

She pushes back on the idea that synthetic characters are simply stitched together from parts of real people. “People think you take this actress’ eyes and nose and that actress’ mouth,” she says. “That’s not how it works at all.”

Over six months, a team of about 15 people at Particle6 worked on developing Tilly, generating more than 2,000 visual versions and testing nearly 200 names before selecting Tilly Norwood, one that fit what Van der Velden calls the “English rose” aesthetic they were looking for and wasn’t already taken. “It’s very human-led,” Van der Velden says, likening AI tools to a calculator for creatives. “You need taste. You need judgment. You still have to call the shots.”

Even as the technology advances, the uncanny valley remains a stubborn barrier. Van der Velden says Tilly has improved over the last six months, but only through sustained human steering. “It takes a lot of work to get it right,” she says.

That labor, she says, is what separates an emerging form of storytelling worth taking seriously from AI slop. “I’ve seen some genuinely amazing work coming out of AI filmmaking,” she says. “It’s a different art form but a real one.”

She sees Tilly less as a provocation than as a reflection. “She represents this moment of fear in our industry as a piece of art. But I would say to people: Don’t be fearful. We can’t wish AI away. It’s here. The question is, how do we use it positively?”

Her focus now is on what she calls Tilly’s “inside” — the personality, memory and backstory that give the character continuity over time. That interior life is being built with Particle6’s proprietary system, DeepFame, software designed to give the character memory and behavioral consistency from one appearance to the next.

“People ask me things like what her favorite food is,” Van der Velden says. “I’m not going to answer for Tilly. She has a voice of her own. I’d rather you ask her yourself — very soon.”

Hollywood fights back

While Van der Velden wishes the industry were less afraid of what AI might become, Alexandra Shannon is helping Hollywood arm itself for what’s already here.

As head of strategic development at Creative Artists Agency, one of the industry’s most powerful agencies, Shannon works with actors, filmmakers and estates trying to navigate what generative technology means for their work — and their identities.

The questions she hears tend to fall into two camps. “First is, how do I protect myself — my likeness, my voice, my work?” she says. “And then there’s the flip side: How do I engage with this, but do it safely?”

Those concerns led to the creation of the CAA Vault, a secure repository for approved digital scans of a client’s face and voice. Shannon describes it as a way to capture a likeness once, then allow performers to decide when and where it can be used — for example, in one shot created for one film. It doesn’t eliminate uncertainty, she says, but it gives talent something they’ve rarely had since AI companies entered the picture: control.

“There’s a legitimate way to work with them,” she adds. “Anything outside that isn’t authorized.”

Creative Artists Agency’s headquarters in Century City, where talent representatives are grappling with how to protect clients’ likenesses.

(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)

Those risks are no longer abstract. Unauthorized AI-generated images and videos resembling Scarlett Johansson have circulated online. Deepfake ads have falsely enlisted Tom Hanks to promote medical products. AI-generated images have placed Taylor Swift in fabricated scenarios she never endorsed. Once a likeness becomes live and responsive, Shannon says, control can erode quickly.

For all the panic around AI, Shannon rejects the idea that digital likeness will undercut human stars overnight. “It’s not about all of a sudden you can work with Brad Pitt and you can do it for a fraction of the cost,” Shannon says. “That is not where we see the market going.”

What CAA is intent on preserving, she says, isn’t just a face or a voice but the accumulated meaning of a career.

“For an individual artist, their body of work is built over years of creative decisions — what roles to take, what brands or companies to work with, and just as importantly, what roles not to do, what companies not to support,” she adds. “That body of work is a fundamental expression of who they are.”

Shannon doesn’t dispute that the tools are improving or that some AI-native personas will find an audience. But she believes their growth will sharpen, not weaken, what distinguishes human performance in the first place. “In a world where there’s this vast proliferation of AI-generated content, people will continue to crave live, shared, human-centered experiences,” she contends. “I think it’s only going to make those things more valuable.”

Not everyone is convinced the balance will tilt so neatly.

“The genie’s out of the bottle,” Christopher Travers says by phone from Atlanta, where he runs Travers Tech, advising companies and individual creators on generative video and digital-identity strategy. “There are now more than a million characters across all sorts of media, from VTubers to AI-generated performers.”

Travers got his start in generative AI with the backing of Mark Cuban, founding Virtual Humans in 2019, a startup focused on computer-generated performers and digital identities. These days, his journey would have been much easier. “It costs nearly nothing now,” he says. “And when cost drops, volume increases. There’s pressure on celebrities to keep up.”

Having watched countless virtual characters come and go, Travers wasn’t particularly impressed with Tilly Norwood herself. What mattered to him was the reaction.

“Tilly is maybe 1% of the story,” he says. “The other 99% is the worry and the fear. What it did was strike a chord. We all needed to have this conversation.”

What stardom looks like now

Few people have spent more time inside Hollywood’s old star-making system than mega-producer Jerry Bruckheimer, whose films like “Beverly Hills Cop,” “Top Gun” and “Pirates of the Caribbean” helped turn actors into global commodities.

Even amid the disruption reshaping Hollywood, he believes the industry still knows how to discover and elevate stars. “It’ll happen,” he told The Times earlier this year. “Timothée Chalamet is a star and Zendaya is a star. Glen Powell is becoming a star — we’re going to bring him up. Damson Idris is going to be a star. Now they have to be smart and make good choices on what they do. That’s up to them.”

Stellan Skarsgård as Luthen Rael in the series “Andor.”

(Des Willie / Lucasfilm Ltd.)

The industry may still know how to make stars, but keeping them there has become harder. Chalamet’s biggest box office successes, like “Wonka” and the “Dune” films, have arrived as part of franchises rather than as standalone vehicles. Powell’s latest film, last month’s remake of “The Running Man,” fell short of expectations.

Bruckheimer himself has been pragmatic about AI. During postproduction on his recent Brad Pitt–led Formula One drama, an AI-based voice-matching tool was briefly used to replicate Pitt’s voice when the actor was unavailable for looping, a demonstration of how AI can extend a star’s reach rather than replace them. “AI is only going to get more useful for people in our business,” he says.

If Hollywood has been having more difficulty launching fresh faces, it has become adept at keeping familiar ones on the screen. AI tools can smooth a face, rebuild a voice or extend a performance long after an actor might otherwise have aged out. Stardom no longer has to end with retirement — or even death.

Stellan Skarsgård, for one, is uneasy with the idea. In recent years, the veteran actor — a current Oscar front-runner for “Sentimental Value” — has been part of two of Hollywood’s most valuable franchises, playing Luthen Rael in the “Star Wars” series “Andor” and Baron Harkonnen in the “Dune” films, roles built to carry on through sequels and spinoffs.

Asked about the prospect of an AI version of himself playing those characters after he’s gone, the 75-year-old Skarsgård bristles. The question carries particular weight. Three years ago he suffered a stroke, an experience that forced a reckoning with his craft and sense of mortality.

“SAG has been very adamant — there was a strike about it,” Skarsgård says. “And I do hope it won’t be like that in the future, that it will be controlled and that money won’t have all the rights.” He pauses. “You should have rights as a person, to your own voice, your own personality.”

Those questions — about control, consent and what survives a person — moved from the abstract to the practical last month at Hollywood X on the Fox lot.

Onstage, Jeff Clanagan mentioned a documentary that Hartbeat, Kevin Hart’s entertainment company, is producing with the estate of comedian Bernie Mac, who died in 2008. Built around Mac’s own audiobook narration, the documentary will rely on authorized existing recordings, not newly generated performances, pairing traditional animation with AI-assisted imagery to visualize moments Mac had already described. Clanagan said the technology offered a faster, less expensive way to bring those scenes to life.

But that took some convincing. An Oscar-winning director attached to the project initially wanted to tell the story entirely through traditional animated reenactments. Clanagan said it took months of persuasion — including creating sample scenes to demonstrate the approach — before that resistance eased. “Once he saw it, he was converted, and now we’re doing a little bit of a hybrid,” he said.

That work, Clanagan added, has become part of the job, not just externally but inside Hartbeat as well. “Part of it is educating the talent community on what you can do and still be aligned,” he said, noting that much of the hesitation comes from fear stoked by headlines and unfamiliarity with the tools. “It’s about helping people understand the process. People are starting to believe.”

As the Hollywood X panel ended, attendees filed out of a theater named for Darryl F. Zanuck, one of the architects of the studio-era star system, then crossed the Fox lot toward a reception. Along the way, they passed by cavernous soundstages, some painted with towering murals: Marilyn Monroe in “The Seven Year Itch,” Julie Andrews in “The Sound of Music,” Bruce Willis in “Die Hard.” Faces from another era, still watching as the industry weighs what will endure.

A group of entertainment industry workers launched a new coalition that aims to advocate for the rights of creators amid the growing AI industry.

The group, called Creators Coalition on AI, was founded by 18 people, including writer-director Daniel Kwan, actors Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Natasha Lyonne and producer Janet Yang, former president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.

Gordon-Levitt said the group is not limited to Hollywood luminaries and is open to all creators and the skilled workers around them, including podcasters, digital content creators and newsletter writers.

“We’re all frankly facing the same threat, not from generative AI as a technology, but from the unethical business practices a lot of the big AI companies are guilty of,” he said in a video posted on X on Tuesday. “The idea is that through public pressure, through collective action, through potentially litigation and eventually legislation, creators actually have a lot of power if we come together.

The coalition’s formation comes at a time when Hollywood has been grappling with the fast growth of artificial intelligence tools. Many artists have raised concerns about tools that have used their likenesses or work without their permission or compensation.

The tech industry has said that it should be able to train its AI models with content available online under the “fair use” doctrine, which allows for the limited reproduction of material without permission from the copyright holder.

Some studios have partnered with AI companies to use the tools in areas including marketing and visual effects. Last week, Walt Disney Co. signed a licensing deal with San Francisco-based ChatGPT maker OpenAI for its popular Disney characters such as Mickey Mouse and Yoda to be used in the startup’s text to video tool Sora.

Kwan told The Hollywood Reporter that when Disney and OpenAI’s deal was announced many people felt “completely blindsided.”

“On one hand, you can say that this is just a licensing deal for the characters and that’s not a big deal, and it won’t completely change the way our industry works,” Kwan told THR. “But for a lot of people, it symbolically shows a willingness to work with companies that have not been able to resolve or reconcile the problems.”

There has also been lawsuits filed against some AI companies. Earlier this year, Disney, Universal and Warner Bros. Discovery sued AI business Midjourney accusing it of copyright infringement.

The Creators Coalition on AI said it plans to convene an AI advisory committee “to establish shared standards, definitions, and best practices as well as ethical and artistic protections for if and when AI is used.” Some of the principles the group lists on its website include the importance of transparency, consent, control and compensation in the use of AI tools, sensitivity to potential job losses, guardrails against misuse and deepfakes and safeguarding humanity in the creative process.

“This is not a full rejection of AI,” the group said on its website. “The technology is here. This is a commitment to responsible, human-centered innovation.”

“This is not a dividing line between the tech industry and the entertainment industry, nor a line between labor and corporations,” the group said . “Instead, we are drawing a line between those who want to do this fast, and those who want to do this right.”

The idea for the coalition was sparked by Kwan, who produced a documentary about AI, which comes out next year, Gordon-Levitt said in his video. He said work on the group began in the middle of this year. Already the collective has many signatories, including actors Natalie Portman, Greta Lee, Kirsten Dunst and Orlando Bloom.