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‘Beef’ creator breaks down Season 2’s story about couples, class and revenge

There’s a couple somewhere in Los Angeles who unknowingly inspired the second season of “Beef.”

Lee Sung Jin, the creator of Netflix’s anthology drama that swirls in the consequences of class struggles, resentment and the absurdity of life’s curveballs, once again found himself inspired by a tense interaction playing out before him. A road rage incident at a stoplight in Hollywood a few years ago, triggered by Lee’s delayed response to a green light, became the catalyst for the first season. An early idea to write about a men’s doubles partnership gone awry lost its luster after “Challengers,” Luca Guadagnino’s drama about a love triangle between tennis pros, came out. But a heated argument coming from a house in Lee’s neighborhood became the next spark that lit a narrative fuse.

“I told the story to people — it caused a little stir in the neighborhood,” he says. “And what I found fascinating was the different reactions. When I told younger folks, I’d get, ‘Did you call the police? Should you go check on them again?’ Very concerned, having an ideological view on relationships. When I told the story to older friends and couples, they were just kind of like, ‘Who among us hasn’t?’ I thought the idea of juxtaposing these couples at different stages felt like ripe ground.”

The overheard in L.A. moment inspired the eight-episode season,

A man and woman on a couch look at a man and woman sitting in chairs in front of them

Carey Mulligan and Oscar Isaac square off with Charles Melton and Cailee Spaeny in Season 2 of “Beef.”

(Netflix)

The twist-filled, darkly comic thriller kicks off when a young couple, Ashley and Austin (Cailee Spaeny and Charles Melton), who work at a Montecito country club, witness the explosive altercation between their boss Josh (Oscar Isaac) and his wife, Lindsay (Carey Mulligan), an interior designer, the night before the club’s new Korean billionaire owner, Chairwoman Park (Youn Yuh-jung), takes over. She has her own mess to tend to involving her husband (Song Kang-ho), a doctor whose health is affecting his work on patients. The calamities each couple faces spin out into a web of favors and coercion in this tale of broken systems and characters going to great lengths to get what they want.

“The idea of cycles felt interesting,” he says. “A lot of shows and movies cover marriage through the lens of one couple, you don’t really see that multigenerational juxtaposition.”

Speaking from his office on the Raleigh Studios lot in Hollywood, Lee discussed the season’s Montecito setting, the financial anxiety that drives the story and the four-legged breakout star of the show. These are edited excerpts from the conversation, which includes many spoilers.

Why did you want to set this season in Montecito?

Just writing what I know. My goddaughters — their parents are my best friends. They live in Montecito. The dad is my oldest friend in LA. He has a membership to Montecito Club, which is where we shot the exterior of our show. I was house-sitting for him during the writing of all this. He let me use his membership. I remember when he told me about the membership, I was like, “You pay how much? That’s insane, dude.” But then you start using the membership. This idea of hedonic adaptation — how humans so quickly adapt to this new comfort, this new stimulus — it felt like an interesting thing. I was observing how all the members seemed to be mostly boomers and Silent Gen; then all the workers were Gen Z and millennial. I thought: What a perfect metaphor for society right now. No matter how hard the Gen Z and millennials work, they’re never going to get to be members of this club because, as Austin says, “everyone grabbed the bag before they could.” That’s what made me want to set it at a Montecito country club.

A man, gripping a gold club in the air, and a woman have startled expressions while looking out a window
Inside a car, a man grips a steering wheel while he and a female passenger look out the driver's window.

Oscar Isaac as Josh Martin and Carey Mulligan as Lindsay Crane-Martin. Cailee Spaeny as Ashley Miller and Charles Melton as Austin Davis. The second season of “Beef,” follows the two California couples from different socioeconomic backgrounds — though both are struggling — as they spiral into a high-stakes feud. (Netflix)

That feeling of survival and resentment and entitlement really looms over this season. There’s speeches about love, but also capitalism. The anxiety about finances is so prevalent right now.

We certainly didn’t set out to make a season about capitalism. But if you’re constantly trying to chase truth as writers, I don’t know how you say anything in the modern era, in 2026, and not have capitalism be a huge variable because it permeates every aspect of life. It’s like going to get gas. Gas is almost $7 right now. You have to fill your tank and there goes $140? That’s crazy. And relationships face so much stress — everyone is being hit by all these curveballs and trying to keep your head above water — how can you enjoy each other?

It became very obvious to us that if you’re going to write a season about marriage and love to these two couples, financial implications have to be a big factor. There’s a lot of talk about the disappearance of the American dream right now. Birth rates are declining. No one’s owning homes anymore. But then you also see headlines about everyone’s scamming. CVS has everything locked down. You’re like, “Yeah, no wonder.” Everything’s connected. We wanted to really show how that survival instinct, the desperation, is starting to come for everyone. I don’t think it’s going to get easier, especially with AI moving on the horizon, and with leaders who refuse to put checks and balances in place.

Part of Ashley’s story is using the video of the fight between Josh and Lindsay as blackmail to get health insurance so she can afford treatment for her endometriosis. And that moment where she’s waiting in the ER for hours and it’s not until she collapses that they realize she needs emergency surgery — her big concern is whether she has to pay the deductible.

I wrote that episode in a literal day because it was based on an experience I had in an ER with my daughter’s mother. She had this illness fall upon her. We spent 12 hours at the ER and, the whole time, I had my Notes app out and was just writing down everything I saw. Almost everything in that scene is stuff that happened in real life. Our healthcare system is absolutely insane. It’s, again, unhinged capitalism and … felt like it really unlocked so much of the season.

There’s a moment where Josh has to sell some of his prized possessions to pay a gambling debt. Have you been there, needing to sell things to cover your financial obligations?

I’ve been there multiple times. I obviously struggled to find my way for a long time, even after becoming a writer. If you’re in a writing partnership, in a staff job on a show — first of all, this is what the guild has been fighting, trying to get these longer-term employment windows because these jobs sometimes are only … maybe eight to 12 weeks. You’re splitting a staff salary in two [if you’re in a partnership], and you probably haven’t qualified for health insurance by the end of that run. Sure, you’re a working writer, but I remember [by the time I landed at] “Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” my first real writing job, I had amassed so much debt, half of which were from parking tickets. I just didn’t have the money to pay these tickets, and so I just let them run rampant. So, yeah, I’ve been there. There’s this one guitar that I loved; it was the first guitar I bought with my own money after college — it was a Fender Telecaster. I think I bought it for $1,200. I ended up selling it for $300. I’ve sold collectibles. I’ve sold anything that had gold in it. I’ve scrapped to just find anything because you’re desperate.

A man and a woman sit facing each other in front of a large window

Song Kang-ho as Dr. Kim, Youn Yuh-jung as Chairwoman Park in “Beef.” Recalling the opportunity to direct the pair, Lee says: “It just makes me feel like a little kid again. It stops feeling like work and starts feeling like play.”

(Netflix)

You directed this season. Is there a moment that stands out with this cast?

A peak of my career that I think about daily is the moment in Korea where we were shooting at Amorepacific. It’s one of the most beautiful buildings in Seoul. I’m shooting the scene between the great Youn Yuh-jung and the great Song Kang-ho — two of not only my favorite Korean actors, but favorite actors period. They have never been in a scene together in any Korean film ever. They’ve been in a movie together, but never acted together. And here we are making Korean history by having them shoot that breakfast scene and, while I’m in the middle of shooting that scene, director Bong Joon Ho surprises us on set. He comes over laughing, pulls up to me, looks at my monitor, gives me stage fright, then elbows me and says, “You sure you want to frame it like that?” He was teasing. Then we started shooting the scene, it’s all in Korean, and I look back at video village and Bong’s just doubled over in laughter. He is just cracking up. Younger me, and present me, is looking around like: Here I am in Korea, in this building I’ve always wanted to shoot in, two of the greatest living actors and the greatest living director — what is happening? What a crazy sentence to say. It just makes me feel like a little kid again. It stops feeling like work and starts feeling like play.

How did you want race and identity to figure into this season, particularly through Austin?

Charles was the first piece of the whole thing. After Season 1, I got to go to Korea multiple times. I shot a music video for one of the members of BTS. I was experiencing Austin’s journey of being courted by this level of Korea that I’d never been exposed to before and feeling warm and allured by it — I’m having dinners with K-pop idols, like what is happening? So, I knew I wanted to have that element of elite Korea involved. The writers and I discussed a lot whether it should be a Korean American that’s being pulled. We had covered a lot of Korean American ground in Season 1, [but] one of the things we didn’t get to cover is the half-Korean experience. Several of the writers on staff are either half-Asian or half-Korean. We don’t want to repeat things, but let’s do explore a half-Korean character who is about to have a child suddenly get this pull toward Korea.

A blond woman raises her right index finger at a weiner dog dressed in a sweater

Carey Mulligan as Lindsay acting alongside Jones, the dog who plays Burberry, in “Beef.” “Jones is the best dog actor I’ve ever worked with,” Lee says. “A24 is making Burberry merch. There’s going to be a Burberry shirt.”

(Netflix)

There are some pretty gross, petty and violent acts of revenge. One is Ashley swirling her period blood in Josh and Lindsay’s pitcher of orange juice. The other takes place during a flight — Lindsay wiping gunk from the toilet seat and transferring it to the rim of the cup Ashley drinks from. Please explain how you arrived at these acts. Were there any left on the cutting room floor?

Episode 4 was pouring out of me. And I remember I got to the point where Ashley snooping through the house [where Lindsay and Josh live]. Initially, I had her scratching up the trophy. She opened Josh’s pomade and blew a snot booger into it. I was thinking of juvenile things. But I had the thought of her going to the kitchen and having the thing that happened to her being the expression of her revenge. I remember I was so nervous to show the [writers’] room. The way I wrote it, I had her crouching over the pitcher and Anna Moench, as the main female writer on the show, was like, “Sonny, I don’t think you know this works.” So, we revised it. That’s how the OJ one happened. With Episode 7 [and the toilet seat], we wanted to have a bodily episode on a plane, and there’s just such limited ways to get revenge on a plane. But given the OJ drink — there’s so many mirrors between the two couples, we thought it’d be fun to mirror that with a drink from Lindsay to Ashley. The only place to do that on a plane is bathroom. We shot it on stage with a fake toilet and Carey was almost vomiting. She came to me after that scene, and she goes, “Sonny, in all my years in this business, that is the most vile, disgusting thing I’ve ever had to do.”

The final moments of the finale jumps eight years. Did you always know you wanted a time jump? And did you always know Ashley and Austin were going to repeat the cycle?

The Ashley and Austin side, I knew the inverse graph for both characters would be very satisfying — to me, at least. I didn’t know whether that happened in a time jump or not. That’s something we discovered later. There was great debate in the room. I had a couple writers plead with me, “Why aren’t you ending with the kiss? It’s so sweet. It’s so good. I feel so good at the kiss. Can we just end it at the kiss?” I took it very seriously, but then it felt very similar to Season 1’s ending. Taking two people who start apart and they finally discover that connection but too late. I didn’t want to leave with the same feeling. How we can make it different is the “what happens next?” Life comes at you fast. He’s [Josh] still in prison. She’s [Lindsay] got to move on. Once I started heading down that thought experiment, I’m like, “Whoa, you could do a whole coda showing the literal theme of the show, the cycles, that’s where we can show Ashley and Austin becoming Josh and Lindsay.” That’s where we show, even though they found a connection, it’s lost between Josh and Lindsay — even if they’re still hanging on to the past a little bit. You show Troy and Ava still together [laughs] — they have it all figured out. Then you show the billionaire who, even with all the money in the world, is crying at the graveside of her first love, filled with regret.

We didn’t see where Eunice (Seoyeon Jang) ends up.

I wanted to leave it open. I’m very curious what people think. She really put her neck out there. Austin burned her bad. I don’t know where Eunice is at but it’s probably not good.

A shirtless young man lounges on a couch while scrolling on a cellphone

Charles Melton as Austin Davis in “Beef.”

(Netflix)

We can’t talk about “Beef” without discussing the needle drops. When you have Austin listening to Billie Eilish’s “What Was I Made For?” it was over for me.

The needle drops are usually pre-picked even before we shoot. The source music that’s playing diegetically, usually we discover in the edit. Before, as scripted, it had him scrolling Instagram and it was [the song playing on] his Instagram feed — you know how those Reels have music overlayed on a POV? It just wasn’t that funny to me in the edit. He’s so down and out and I wanted to find different source music in there. One day, I told my editor, “Can you rip ‘What Was I Made For?’ And can you just temporarily do it where, as she opens the door, he’s like, pressing the volume up, being like ‘sh— … sh— …’ [intending to make the volume go down]?” Our AE [assistant editor] did the ADR temporarily of the “sh—, sh—,” filmed it on my phone and I texted it to Finneas [O’Connell, the show’s composer, who is Eilish’s brother and collaborator] being like, “Hey, is it cool if we do this?” And he was dying laughing. [O’Connell also makes a cameo in the season.]

Ahead of Season 1, you gifted the writers “The Sopranos Sessions” and also assembled a Letterboxd list of films that served as reference points. What guidance did you provide for Season 2?

I sent another Letterboxd playlist. For inspo, we got “Handmaiden,” “Phantom Thread,” “Force Majeure,” “Eyes Wide Shut,” “The Informant.” For some reason, I have “Margaret” on there, the [Kenneth] Lonergan film. I also had “Michael Clayton,” “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” “Burn After Reading,” and lastly, it’s a deep cut, there’s this movie called “Like Crazy,” starring Felicity Jones and Anton Yelchin.

Also, can we take a moment for Burberry’s acting?

Oh my god, Jones! Jones is the best dog actor I’ve ever worked with. He would hit his mark. He would listen. He would look at people when he’s supposed to be looking. It was his first time acting. Crushed it. A24 is making Burberry merch. There’s going to be a Burberry shirt.

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‘Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen’ creator on horror and marriage

You might expect a screenwriter working in the horror genre to be relatively difficult to scare, but Haley Z. Boston, the creator and executive producer of Netflix’s harrowing new limited series “Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen,” insists that is not the case.

“I’m afraid of everything,” Boston, 31, said during a recent Zoom conversation. “I’m afraid of horror movies, but that’s why I love them so much, because they scare me. A lot of horror people are desensitized and looking for something to shake them. I am the opposite. I am easily afraid.”

The easily frightened — and the recently engaged — might be advised to approach Boston’s new series, which premiered Thursday, with caution. A haunting fusion of David Lynch surrealism and “Rosemary’s Baby” paranoia, “Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen” traces the peculiar and ominous events that unfold in the week leading up to the nuptials between wary Rachel (Camila Morrone) and trusting fiancé Nicky (Adam DiMarco), as overseen by Nicky’s mother Victoria (Jennifer Jason Leigh).

Faced with inexplicable truths about Nicky’s family and her own past, Rachel becomes convinced that saying “I do” has the potential to prove deadly, and she comes to fear what might take place when she walks down the aisle.

A woman wearing a white veil over her face.

Camila Morrone as Rachel Harkin in Netflix’s “Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen.”

(Netflix)

“I’d seen people in their wedding, in their vows, say, ‘I never once had a doubt,’” Boston said. “I’m like, ‘How could you not constantly question everything?’ It felt very natural to me to explore that idea in a horror show where the doubt is the horror.”

Horror has long been a preoccupation for Boston. The Oregon native has a tattoo of the phrase “Carrie White burns in hell” to commemorate her favorite film, Brian DePalma’s landmark Stephen King adaptation, “Carrie.” She distinguished herself writing episodes of weird, atmospheric series including Netflix’s “Brand New Cherry Flavor,” a nightmarish exploration of witchcraft and filmmaking in 1990s L.A., and “Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities,” also for Netflix.

Her installment in the Oscar-winning director’s anthology series, “The Outside,” was inspired by a comic titled “Some Other Animal’s Meat” and followed the unnerving transformation one woman undergoes after purchasing a beauty cream advertised on a late-night infomercial. “It’s all about being an outsider and feeling different, and I related to that,” Boston said.

Boston began writing at the age of 11, and after seeing Quentin Tarantino’s “Kill Bill” in her early teens, she became interested in filmmaking. “I was so taken by the way that the story is told, and I love a revenge story,” she said. “That’s when I started to think, ‘Is this something? Who wrote that? How does any of this work?’”

She had considered following her parents’ path and choosing a career in medicine, but during her first formal writing class at Northwestern University, she felt that she’d found her calling. “I was like, ‘No, this is it. This is what I want to do,’” Boston said.

A woman with long brown hair in a brown top and black skirt leans against a wall.

“I’m like, ‘How could you not constantly question everything?’” Haley Z. Boston says about marriage. “It felt very natural to me to explore that idea in a horror show where the doubt is the horror.”

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

After graduation, she moved to L.A., taking a job in the William Morris Endeavor mailroom and writing scripts on her own time. A high school slasher movie she’d penned in college landed her an agent. Soon after, her pilot for a “sapphic murder story” inspired by “Killing Eve” netted her 22 pitch meetings — the first was with director Sam Raimi, whose early-career “Evil Dead” movies are beloved cult classics. “I was 24, and I did the scariest thing at the time possible,” Boston said. “Sometimes I think if you don’t think too much about how terrifying it is, and you’re just thrown into it, that’s better.”

With “Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen,” Boston found herself thrown into the position of showrunner without ever having spent any real time on a set. Yet Morrone says Boston was the picture of confident professionalism throughout the shoot. “There’s just a grace to her,” Morrone said. “Even if she was overwhelmed, you would just never see it. These are her words and her world, and she inherently knows the character and the story so well that she could really navigate any questions thrown at her because it lives in her.”

The series is something profoundly personal for Boston. Growing up with parents whose marriage seemed idyllic had left her struggling once she began dating, and she channeled many of her own anxieties into the show. “They’ve been together for 37 years or something,” Boston said of her parents. “I felt all this pressure knowing that that exists. It always felt like a curse. You have this great example of what a marriage is, and I always found myself weighing every little romantic tryst against this 30-year marriage — which was unhelpful.”

She hit upon the premise for the series right around her 27th birthday, a time when more and more of her friends began to get married, and developed the idea while working on other projects. By the time Boston sat down to write the pilot episode, she knew the narrative and the characters so well that it took her just two weeks to finish.

Pitching the series, she met with “Stranger Things” creators Matt and Ross Duffer, who were so impressed by her vision that they signed on to executive produce “Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen” through their Upside Down Pictures banner.

“From reading one page of her script, it became very clear that this is someone who has a very unique voice,” Ross said. “It was unlike anything we’d ever read before. Immediately, we were like, ‘We have to be involved with this. We have to help bring her vision to life.’”

A woman and a man sit in a dark dining room surrounded by wine glasses and lighted candles.

Rachel (Camila Morrone) and Nicky (Adam DiMarco) experience peculiar and ominous events leading up to their wedding.

(Netflix)

Matt added, “Haley has such a specific sense of humor. It’s very dark, very dry, but it also feels incredibly real. Her characters talk very much in the same way that real people talk. I find that sadly rare in the scripts that you read.”

The series was filmed in Toronto in January 2025 with directors Weronika Tofilska (“Baby Reindeer”), Lisa Brühlmann (“Killing Eve”) and Axelle Carolyn (“American Horror Story”) behind the camera. Boston said she and her collaborators would often reference specific films — everything from “The Celebration” to “Uncut Gems” — as a shorthand for the tone they were hoping to strike in a given episode. “I really love a story that takes something normal and grounded and gives one twist on it that throws you into a different world and makes you see things in a different way,” Boston said.

With “Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen” poised to elevate Boston’s Hollywood profile, establishing her as one of the most exciting voices in horror, she’s already planning for her future, writing a film that she intends to direct. “I love the horror community, but it is still such a boy’s club, and I really want to infiltrate it,” Boston said.

“The genre has been so much about women, and in studying feminist theory in horror, especially back in the ’70s, the genre forced men to relate to women — you’re watching a woman survive, which is ultimately very powerful,” she added. “I find it interesting how many men are making horror movies about women. I talked about ‘Carrie.’ I love that movie, but it’s missing something. Same with ‘Rosemary’s Baby.’

“This show is such a great opportunity to begin my career in this genre — now, I want to continue my reign of terror.”

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Creator of 90s hit movie Air Bud dies aged 63 after tragic fall from Hollywood stardom to living homeless on the streets

An image collage containing 1 images, Image 1 shows Buddy, the Golden Retriever star of "Air Bud," and his owner Kevin DiCicco, pose in a grassy field

THE creator of the 90s hit movie Air Bud has died aged 63 after a tragic fall from Hollywood stardom.

Kevin DiCicco’s death comes a year after he revealed he was homeless and battling health issues.

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Kevin DiCicco was dealing with homelessness and a series of health issuesCredit: Facebook/Gofundme
Golden retriever dog Buddy basketball-playing star of
Kevin DiCicco with Golden retriever dog Buddy, thee basketball-playing star of motion picture Air BudCredit: Getty

His sad passing on Saturday March 21 was confirmed by his brother Mark to TMZ.

Kevin was credited as a creator of the beloved 90s film Air Bud, about a lonely boy who befriends a stray dog who has a natural talent for basketball.

Together they experience the highs and lows of life as their friendship remains solid through a series of escapades.

Kevin had found Buddy the dog as a stray, transforming him into a star.

The duo originally found fame on America’s Funniest Home Videos before making a memorable appearance on David Letterman.

More to follow… For the latest news on this story keep checking back at The Sun Online.

Thesun.co.uk is your go-to destination for the best celebrity news, real-life stories, jaw-dropping pictures and must-see video.

Like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/thesun and follow us from our main Twitter account at @sunbizarre.

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BBC drops first look at ‘violent’ thriller by Baby Reindeer creator

Baby Reindeer creator Richard Gadd is back for his first drama since the multi-award winning Netflix series.

BBC is set to release an “intense” drama that explores “brotherhood, violence and the fragility of male relationships”.

In 2024, Netflix subscribers went mad for Richard Gadd ’s gripping drama Baby Reindeer revolving around a comedian dealing with his obsessive female stalker.

Now, two years on, Richard Gadd is back for the first time since the Netflix hit’s release with the BBC revealing details for its upcoming drama Half Man.

Filming for the original six-part drama wrapped up last year in and around Glasgow with the series set to launch in April on BBC One and BBC iPlayer in the UK and on HBO Max in the US.

Gadd will star in Half Man alongside BAFTA winning actor Jamie Bell, famed for All of Us Strangers and Rocket Man, with the pair portraying Ruben and Niall, respectively.

The official synopsis reads: “Niall and Ruben are brothers. Not related in blood but the closest you can get. One, fierce and loyal. The other, meek and mild-mannered. Inseparable youth.

“Brought into each other’s lives through death and circumstance, all they have is each other…

“But when Ruben turns up at Niall’s wedding three decades later, everything seems different.

“He is on edge. Shifty. Not acting like himself. And soon, an explosion of violence takes place which catapults us back through their lives, from the eighties to the present day.”

Half Man, which has been created and written by Gadd, will follow Ruben and Niall throughout the past 30 years of their lives, exploring “brotherhood, violence and the intense fragility of male relationships”.

For the latest showbiz, TV, movie and streaming news, go to the new **Everything Gossip** website.

The synopsis concludes: “After all, when things fall apart… it is sometimes the closest relationships which break the hardest.”

Gadd and Bell aren’t the only familiar faces starring in Half Man either with an abundance of other familiar faces joining the cast.

These include SAS Rogue Heroes actor Stuart Campbell, Rivals’ Charlie De Melo, The Nevers star Amy Manson, Outlander actor Tim Downie and T2 Trainspotting’s Scot Greenan, to name just a few.

Half Man will debut in April on BBC One and BBC iPlayer.

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Tilly music video proves AI won’t be putting actors out of work soon

Just in time for the Oscars, Tilly Norwood, and by extension her creator, Eline van der Velden, gave actors at every level an unexpected gift — the chance to breathe a little easier.

AI will not be replacing you any time soon.

On Tuesday, the AI phenomenon known as Tilly debuted a single and music video titled “Take the Lead.” In it, Tilly sings a self-celebratory, pro-AI anthem with the big-eyed feisty longing of an algorithm marked “Disney princess: Big song” while she wanders through increasingly fantastic self-affirming scenarios that scream “Plus ‘Barbie.’”

Van der Velden was clearly trying to persuade actors to embrace the possibilities of AI but like Timothée Chalamet, who managed to prove that opera and ballet have many devoted fans by publicly suggesting the opposite, her attempt will likely backfire. The underlying message of the video, at least to performers, appears to be: Relax — AI hasn’t figured out how to lip sync properly, much less act.

It’s a bit of good news in a time of AI anxiety, some of which was Tilly-induced. Last year, Van der Velden, a Dutch actor and founder of the production company Particle6, debuted Tilly, via Instagram, as the “world’s first AI actress.” Around the time the account hit 50,000 followers, Van der Velden announced that several talent agents were interested in representing Tilly. Not Van der Velden, but Tilly Norwood, a “performer” who did not exist.

For a few minutes, Hollywood lost its collective mind. Not only were creators and performers facing a future in which their work, bodies and faces could be scanned and fed into an algorithm capable of imitating writing styles or creating images of actors doing things they never did (in a recent AI video, Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt duke it out on a war-torn rooftop), now some feared they would be competing for jobs with “actors” who could work 24 hours a day, required no health benefits and would never demand bowls of M&Ms with the green ones removed.

SAG-AFTRA, which had just ended a strike caused in part by concerns about AI, protested Tilly and the use of “stolen performances to put actors out of work.” Various actors were outraged and some called for the interested talent agencies to be identified. Even Emily Blunt was publicly disconcerted, begging Hollywood agencies to “please stop taking away our human connection.”

Van der Velden quickly responded, insisting that Tilly was “not a replacement for a human being, but a creative work — a piece of art … a new tool — a new paintbrush.”

Then, on Tuesday, “Tilly” released a music video that seems to argue the exact opposite.

In the video, which appears over the message “Can’t wait to go to the Oscars,” the computer-generated young woman trips through a montage of “famous person moments,” as Tilly insists that she is not a puppet but a star; she encourages all actors to embrace and use AI, to own their creativity and “be free.”

A note prefacing the video states that “18 real humans” were involved in its production (including Van der Velden who is the basis of the performance), who provide the subtext for Tilly warbling: “They say it’s not real, that it’s fake, but I’m a human, make no mistake.”

Whatever Van der Velden and her team hoped to achieve, one thing is very clear: Emily Blunt has nothing to fear from Tilly Norwood.

The questionable merits of the song, performance and production value aside, the video is the best argument yet for why AI “performers” are a limited threat. As Tilly walks the streets of London, poses for selfies, signs autographs, appears on talk shows, performs live in front of enormous audiences, interacts with photographers, we are reminded that Tilly could never do any of this. AI performances are, by their very nature, limited to a screen.

Instagram fame is a real thing and can be monetarily beneficial, just as animated and digitally enhanced characters can connect deeply with audiences. But beyond her ability to raise the spectre of wholly coded “performers” constructed from borrowed bits of humans (which, as anyone who has read or seen “Frankenstein” knows, never ends well), Tilly doesn’t appear to have anything like star power.

And to consider her as existing separate from her creators is like imagining that the ventriloquist dummy Charlie McCarthy could have a career, and an agent, separate from the real performer Edgar Bergen.

Though Charlie did have the advantage of being able to be seen live and in person.

Watching Tilly, one is reminded that the magic of actors is that they are human. Audiences are, after all, human too and whether facing a stage or a screen, we are captivated by certain performers’ ability to bring all manner of characters and stories alive, while also being, as Us Weekly says, “just like us.”

People with bodies that age and change, people who fall in love, get messy, say dumb things, say smart things, fall prey to illness and accidents, shop at Trader Joe’s, end up in court or trip when about to receive an Oscar.

Their faulty, glorious humanity allows them to connect to their art, but it also connects them to us. We may never get an Oscar or be able to masterfully deliver a Shakespeare soliloquy on a chat show, but we know what it’s like to trip or say something dumb or experience aging, illness or accident.

You can’t replace actors with algorithms, even if/when someone comes up with something more convincing than Tilly, because actors are not just about performances. They are people who are alive in the world and no amount of coding can replicate that.

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