Director

When community members crowd into a Metro meeting room next Thursday to argue for and against the proposed Dodger Stadium gondola, the board of directors will listen before they vote on whether to proceed with the project.

Will the directors speak?

In a public meeting, officials often explain their position on a high-profile issue. In the Metro meeting next week, the board of directors could vote on the gondola without any of the board members saying a word about it.

Metro released the meeting agenda late Tuesday night. The agenda includes the gondola vote as part of what public agencies call the consent calendar — that is, a package of items that can be approved with one vote, and without any discussion among the officials doing the voting.

The items on any consent calendar generally are routine. Based on a staff report, Metro considers the gondola approval to be routine too: Metro approved the gondola last year, a judge ordered fixes to the environmental impact report, and all Metro needs to do now is rubber-stamp the fixes. The gondola project still would need approvals from the Los Angeles City Council and various state agencies.

At a committee meeting last week — one week after the council had urged Metro to kill the project — Los Angeles Mayor and Metro board member Karen Bass put it this way: “Just real quickly, I just wanted to reiterate or clarify that what the vote is about today is about certifying the EIR, certifying the project’s environmental documents under CEQA, nothing more.”

Two other board members — county supervisors Janice Hahn and Hilda Solis — did address the concerns raised by the public speakers. Hahn voted no on the gondola; Solis voted yes.

Whether Hahn, Solis or any of the other 11 voting board members decide to speak up next Thursday remains to be seen. All it takes is one member to remove the item from the consent calendar and demand discussion on the issue.

The gondola, first pitched by former Dodgers owner Frank McCourt in 2018, would carry fans from Union Station to Dodger Stadium. Gondola proponents have not announced any financing commitments for a project with a construction cost estimated at $500 million and proposed as privately funded.

A high-ranking employee at the Department of Water and Power made staffers run personal errands for her, including purchasing tickets to a Snoop Dogg concert, according to the Los Angeles City Ethics Commission’s director of enforcement.

Renette Anderson, who has worked as an executive assistant to the DWP’s general manager since 2002, asked subordinates to book a plane ticket for her personal travel, make physical therapy appointments for her, purchase party supplies for a non-work party at her home and make a service appointment at a Mercedes Benz dealership for her personal vehicle, wrote the enforcement director, Kenneth Hardy, in an accusation document dated Nov. 4.

Anderson’s requests to two DWP employees, Brian Johnson and Angenee Reygadas, were made during work hours in 2022 and 2023, and the employees used city resources to fulfill the requests, Hardy wrote.

On June 22, 2023, after the Snoop Dogg & Friends concert at the Hollywood Bowl was canceled, Anderson asked Johnson to request a refund, Hardy wrote.

Hardy accused Anderson of seven counts of misusing her city position to create a personal benefit for herself. If the parties do not come to an agreement, the Ethics Commission will hold a hearing and decide what penalties to impose. Each count comes with a potential $5,000 fine.

John Harris, an attorney for Anderson, did not respond to a request for comment.

Paola Adler, a spokesperson for the DWP, said the department cannot comment on personnel matters but that it takes accusations of unethical conduct seriously.

Anderson serves as director of Equal Employment Opportunity Services and reports directly to Chief People Officer Tracey Pierce. Anderson was appointed to her role by a previous general manager, not by Janisse Quiñones, who has been in the role since May 2024, the DWP said.

“She has been the primary voice on all matters related to Equal Employment Opportunity, workforce diversity, and the fair and equitable treatment of over 10,000 employees,” according to Anderson’s bio on the website of the Stovall Foundation, where she is a board member.

EXCLUSIVE: David Michôd is the director of the new film, Christy, which is coming to cinemas on November 28

David Michôd is the creative force behind the upcoming film, Christy, featuring Sydney Sweeney, which arrives in cinemas on November 28 following its domestic box office debut.

The acclaimed Animal Kingdom director has brought to life the extraordinary true story of Christy Martin, a West Virginia native played by Sweeney who emerged as one of boxing’s most pioneering and divisive personalities.

“More than anything I loved the idea of making a movie about a woman with a really ferocious personality,” he told Reach titles.

“I just immediately got a sense that there was something about her that is very charismatic that I really liked, then met her and liked her even more – how beautifully vulnerable and kind and funny she is.”

The director revealed some of his all-time favourite films, including an “unbelievably overlooked masterpiece”.

Apocalypse Now

The epic psychological war drama from 1979 draws loose inspiration from Joseph Conrad’s 1899 novella Heart of Darkness.

The picture charts the journey of Captain Willard (Martin Sheen), tasked with a covert assignment to eliminate Colonel Kurtz (Marlon Brando), a rogue Special Forces commander suspected of murder.

David said: “My favourite movie is Apocalypse Now. That movie made me want to make movies.

“I already loved movies but it was Apocalypse Now that made me want to make them. There was something about the giant, crazy adventure of that film.

“I just think it’s amazing. I was talking to someone about it who was reminding me of the fact it wasn’t universally well-reviewed when it was released, which seems insane to me.”

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford

David simply stated: “I just think, unbelievably overlooked masterpiece.”

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford is a grand Western film from 2007.

Based on Ron Hansen’s 1983 novel of the same name, it features Brad Pitt and Casey Affleck.

The film explores the relationship between Jesse James and Robert Ford, focusing on the events that led up to the notorious killing.

Taxi Driver

Taxi Driver is a 1976 psychological thriller set in New York City post the Vietnam War.

The film stars Robert De Niro as veteran Marine and taxi driver Travis Bickle, whose mental state deteriorates as he works nights in the city.

David commented: “Taxi Driver is right up there for me, just so raw and visceral.

“But again, a movie about a character who does monstrous things, but whose vulnerability and brokenness are so right there on the surface.

“I remember when I was writing Animal Kingdom, I showed the script to people, and some of those people would say ‘Your central character isn’t likeable enough’.

“And I’d go ‘Have you seen Taxi Driver? That guy is kind of grotesque but you can feel him and that’s all you need to be able to do.”

Christy will be hitting cinemas in the UK and Ireland on November 28.

LA28, the committee behind the Olympic Games coming to Los Angeles, quietly added to its roster of directors some high-profile Republicans with ties to President Trump.

The 35-member volunteer board of directors now includes notable Republican political figures Kevin McCarthy, the former speaker of the House of Representatives, and Reince Priebus, who was Trump’s chief of staff during his first term. Before his role in the White House, Priebus served as the longtime chair of the Republican National Committee.

Diane Hendricks, a major GOP donor who has given millions to Trump’s campaigns, and Patrick Dumont, who owns the Dallas Mavericks and is the son-in-law of another major Trump donor, were also added to the board. Ken Moelis, an investment banker who worked with Trump in the 1990s and predicted the businessman would win the presidency in 2016, is also listed as a board member.

The Trump-adjacent inflow to the board of directors, first reported by Politico, is the latest sign of the president’s involvement in the major Los Angeles event.

It is not clear why the decision was made to expand the board of directors and how the individuals were selected. A spokesperson for LA28 did not immediately respond to The Times’ questions Thursday about the move.

Kevin McCarthy

(Associated Press)

Los Angeles business consultant Denita Willoughby and philanthropist Maria Hummer-Tuttle are also newly listed as board members.

“We are thrilled to welcome this accomplished group to the LA28 Board who will help create an unforgettable Games for athletes and fans alike,” Casey Wasserman, the chair of the 2028 L.A. Olympics organizing committee, wrote in a statement.

Wasserman could not immediately be reached by The Times for further comment.

Although past presidents have taken a largely ceremonial role in Olympics that have been held on U.S. soil, there are signs that Trump is seeking a more active role in the Games, which will occur in his final year as president.

In August, he signed an executive order naming him chair of a White House task force on the 2028 Games in Los Angeles. The president views the Games as “a premier opportunity to showcase American exceptionalism,” according to a White House statement. Trump, the administration said, “is taking every opportunity to showcase American greatness on the world stage.”

Trump at the time noted that he’d be willing to send the military back to Los Angeles to protect the Games. In June, he sent the National Guard and U.S. Marines to the city amid escalating immigration enforcement actions, prompting pushback from Mayor Karen Bass.

Wasserman attended the signing at the White House in August and thanked Trump for “leaning in” to planning for the Olympics, which he said is akin to hosting seven Super Bowls a day for 30 days.

“You’ve been supportive and helpful every step of the way,” Wasserman told the president at the time. “With the creation of this task force, we’ve unlocked the opportunity to level up our planning and deliver the largest and, yes, greatest Games for our nation, ever.”

Allan Bunting has stepped down from his role as New Zealand director of rugby following the Black Ferns’ semi-final exit at the recent Women’s Rugby World Cup.

New Zealand Rugby has announced it will recruit a new head coach following an “extensive review of the Black Ferns programme” after the tournament in England – and that Bunting will not be seeking the position.

New Zealand, who had won six of the previous seven Women’s Rugby World Cups, were knocked out in the semi-finals of the 2025 edition by Canada but then beat France to finish third.

Hosts England defeated Canada in the final to win the competition.

Bunting, who was appointed director of rugby of the Black Ferns in 2023, said it had been an “absolute honour” to lead the team.

He added: “Over the past 14 years, I’ve been honoured to contribute across both the Sevens and Fifteens programmes and experience pinnacle events such as the Olympic Games, Commonwealth Games, World Series and World Cups.

“To have played a role in the growth of the women’s game during this time has been a privilege.”

A young Cleveland attorney who worked his way through law school as a clerk with the Ohio Lottery and went on to become the agency’s legal counsel is the leading choice for the job of running California’s lottery, a state official involved in the selection process indicated Tuesday.

M. Mark Michalko, 31, is favored for the job of California lottery director, according to state Lottery Commissioner Laverta Montgomery, who interviewed candidates for the position.

The appointment will be made by Gov. George Deukmejian, but Montgomery said, “I think the governor and I are agreed on the top candidate.” Montgomery’s comments came after a Lottery Commission meeting in Compton, where she is city manager.

Asked the identity of the candidate, Montgomery hesitated, then replied, “I think Mr. Michalko is a very good candidate.”

Later she said:

“I just felt that he was knowledgeable and that he would present a very good image. . . . He knows the (legal) pitfalls.”

Asked about Michalko’s relative youth, Montgomery replied:

“But it’s a young industry. . . . We can’t go by age.”

Deukemjian said in Sacramento on Tuesday that he expects to make an announcement regarding the appointment of a director “around the end of the week.” However, he did not name the candidate, and a press aide later refused to confirm that Michalko is the top choice.

“I can’t confirm,” said assistant press secretary Kevin Brett. “Our policy is. . . we do not discuss appointments until the appointment is made.”

Michalko, who is considered an expert in computerized “on-line” lottery gaming, began his career with the Ohio Lottery Commission in 1977 as a 23-year-old graduate of Cleveland’s John Carroll University, according to the commission’s public information director, Anne Bloomberg. He worked as a legal aide researching contracts and other legal matters while attending Cleveland Marshall School of Law.

He became the commission’s chief counsel shortly after graduating from law school in 1980.

Michalko turns 31 years old today.

He is a native of Garfield Heights, Ohio, and his wife, Kim, is an official with a downtown Cleveland department store.

During the last year, Michalko has been devising a new specifications form for gaming manufacturers vying for Ohio’s multimillion-dollar lottery contract.

The specifications form, according to Bloomberg, has become a model for lotteries around the nation and “is unique in that it finally puts lotteries in the driver’s seat as opposed to vendors.”

Bloomberg said Michalko’s work with the form and his knowledge of on-line gaming systems were among the reasons he gained the attention of California lottery officials.

According to Bloomberg, Michalko’s salary is in the $25,000 to $30,000 range, less than half the salary to be paid California’s lottery chief. Some out-of-state lottery officials considered the California salary too low to apply for the director’s job.

Deukmejian was angered and embarrassed in March, when his first choice as lottery director, Thomas O’Heir, assistant director of the Massachusetts lottery, turned down the job at the last minute because the $73,780 annual salary was inadequate.

Deukmejian then appointed Commission Chairman Howard E. Varner as interim director, and the search for an executive officer was renewed.

The state lottery initiative, approved by voters last November, called for appointment of five commissioners and a lottery director within 30 days and sale of tickets by March 21. The commissioners were not appointed until six weeks after the deadline, however, and ticket sales are not expected until September.

The Lottery Commission, meeting with only three members Tuesday, took several steps toward beginning California’s first lottery game. With Commissioner John Price in Europe and Varner serving as interim chairman, the commission unanimously voted to:

– Approve the final draft of a “request for proposals for instant game tickets”–a document to be used by suppliers of instant “scratch-off” lottery tickets to submit bids to the commission by May 17.

The commission is expected to award the contract, which could be worth almost $50 million, in early June. Some estimate that as many as 1.9 billion tickets will be needed for the first year of the lottery, including tickets given away as prizes, as well as those that go unsold.

– Approve application forms and procedures for lottery ticket retailers. Prospective retailers will be charged a $30 application fee, plus $20 for each retail location. The commission estimates that about 20,000 retail outlets will be needed for instant game tickets.

– Approve a draft of bid specifications for advertising firms seeking to promote the lottery.

The advertising contract could total $15 million during the first year of sales. The commission approved a staff recommendation that 1.5% of gross lottery sales–estimated at $1 billion the first year–be earmarked for advertising and promotions.

The lottery initiative calls for about 3.5% of gross sales to go toward “advertising, promotion, public relations, incentives and other aspects of communications” for at least the first year of the lottery.

It has been widely speculated that this clause in the initiative could mean a $35-million bonanza to an advertising firm. Varner maintained after the meeting, however, that more than half of the 3.5% could legally go toward incentives, public relations and other non-advertising uses.

– Approve a minor change of language in the advertising bid specifications in order to stress requirements that prospective contractors submit plans to subcontract with small businesses or firms run by minorities or women.

Times staff writer Richard C. Paddock in Sacramento contributed to this story.

LONDON — The head of the BBC resigned Sunday after criticism of the broadcaster’s editing of a speech by President Trump.

The BBC said that Director-General Tim Davie and head of news Deborah Turness both announced their resignations Sunday.

Britain’s public broadcaster had been criticized for its editing of a speech Trump made on Jan. 6, 2021, before a mob of his supporters attacked the U.S. Capitol in an attempt to overturn his election defeat.

Critics said that the way the speech was edited for a BBC documentary was misleading in that it cut out a section in which Trump said that he expected his supporters would demonstrate peacefully.

“I know that everyone here will soon be marching over to the Capitol building to peacefully and patriotically make your voices heard,” Trump said in the speech, during which he also urged his supporters to “fight like hell.”

Trump was impeached and criminally indicted over his role in the ensuing Jan. 6 riot and insurrection. The felony charges were dropped after he won the 2024 election, as U.S. Justice Department policy holds that a sitting president may not be criminally prosecuted.

In a letter to staff, Davie said quitting the job after five years “is entirely my decision.”

“Overall the BBC is delivering well, but there have been some mistakes made and as director-general I have to take ultimate responsibility,” Davie said.

He said that he was “working through exact timings with the Board to allow for an orderly transition to a successor over the coming months.”

Turness said that the controversy about the Trump documentary “has reached a stage where it is causing damage to the BBC — an institution that I love. As the CEO of BBC News and Current Affairs, the buck stops with me.”

Pressure on the broadcaster’s top executives has been growing since the Daily Telegraph newspaper published parts of a dossier complied by Michael Prescott, who had been hired to advise the BBC on standards and guidelines.

As well as the Trump edit, it criticized the BBC’s coverage of transgender issues and raised concerns of alleged anti-Israel bias in the BBC’s Arabic service.

You may not know Eliot Mack’s name, but if a small robot has ever crept around your kitchen, you know his work.

Before he turned his MIT-trained mind to filmmaking, Mack helped lead a small team of engineers trying to solve a deeply relatable problem: how to avoid vacuuming. Whether it was figuring out how to get around furniture legs or unclog the brushes after a run-in with long hair, Mack designed everything onscreen first with software, troubleshooting virtually and getting 80% of the way there before a single part was ever manufactured.

The result was the Roomba.

When Mack pivoted to filmmaking in the early 2000s, he was struck by how chaotic Hollywood’s process felt. “You pitch the script, get the green light and you’re flying into production,” he says, sounding both amused and baffled. “There’s no CAD template, no centralized database. I was like, how do movies even get made?”

That question sent Mack down a new path, trading dust bunnies for the creative bottlenecks that slow Hollywood down.

In 2004 he founded Lightcraft Technology, a startup developing what would later be known as virtual production tools, born out of his belief that if you could design a robot in software, you should be able to design a shot the same way. The company’s early system, Previzion, sold for $180,000 and was used on sci-fi and fantasy shows like “V” and “Once Upon a Time.” But Jetset, its latest AI-assisted tool set, runs on an iPhone and offers a free tier, with pro features topping out at just $80 a month. It lets filmmakers scan a location, drop it into virtual space and block out scenes with camera moves, lighting and characters. They can preview shots, overlay elements and organize footage for editing — all from a phone. No soundstage, no big crew, no gatekeepers. Lightcraft’s pitch: “a movie studio in your pocket.”

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

The goal, Mack says, is to put more power in the hands of the people making the work. “One of the big problems is how siloed Hollywood is,” he says. “We talked to an Oscar-winning editor who said, ‘I’m never going to get to make my movie’ — he was pigeonholed as just an editor. Same with an animator we know who has two Oscars.”

Eliot Mack, CEO of Lightcraft, an AI-powered virtual-production startup, wants to give creators the power and freedom to bring their ideas to life.

(Christina House/Los Angeles Times)

To Mack, the revolution of Jetset recalls the scrappy, guerrilla spirit of Roger Corman’s low-budget productions, which launched the early careers of directors like Francis Ford Coppola and Martin Scorsese. For generations of creatives stuck waiting on permission or funding, he sees this moment as a reset button.

“The things you got good at — writing, directing, acting, creating, storytelling — they’re still crazy useful,” he says. “What’s changing is the amount of schlepping you have to do before you get to do the fun stuff. Your 20s are a gift. You want to be creating at the absolute speed of sound. We’re trying to get to a place where you don’t have to ask anyone. You can just make the thing.”

AI is reshaping nearly every part of the filmmaking pipeline. Storyboards can now be generated from a script draft. Lighting and camera angles can be tested before anyone touches a piece of gear. Rough cuts, placeholder VFX, even digital costume mock-ups can all be created before the first shot is filmed. What once took a full crew, a soundstage and a six-figure budget can now happen in minutes, sometimes at the hands of a single person with a laptop.

This wave of automation is arriving just as Hollywood is gripped by existential anxiety. The 2023 writers’ and actors’ strikes brought the industry to a standstill and put AI at the center of a fight over its future. Since then, production has slowed, crew sizes have shrunk and the streaming boom has given way to consolidation and cost-cutting.

According to FilmLA, on-location filming in Greater Los Angeles dropped 22.4% in early 2025 compared with the year before. For many of the crew members and craftspeople still competing for those jobs, AI doesn’t feel like an innovation. It feels like a new way to justify doing more with less, only to end up with work that’s less original or creative.

“AI scrapes everything we artists have made off the internet and creates a completely static, banal world that can never imagine anything that hasn’t happened before,” documentary filmmaker Adam Curtis warned during a directors panel at the 2023 Telluride Film Festival, held in the midst of the strikes. “That’s the real weakness of the AI dream — it’s stuck with the ghosts. And I think we’ll get fed up with that.”

How you feel about these changes often depends on where you sit and how far along you are in your career. For people just starting out, AI can offer a way to experiment, move faster and bypass the usual barriers to entry. For veterans behind the scenes, it often feels like a threat to the expertise they’ve spent decades honing.

Past technological shifts — the arrival of sound, the rise of digital cameras, the advancement of CGI — changed how movies were made, but not necessarily who made them. Each wave brought new roles: boom operators and dialogue coaches, color consultants and digital compositors. Innovation usually meant more jobs, not fewer.

But AI doesn’t just change the tools. It threatens to erase the people who once used the old ones.

Diego Mariscal has seen first hand as AI has cut potential jobs for grips.

(Jennifer Rose Clasen)

Diego Mariscal, 43, a veteran dolly grip who has worked on “The Mandalorian” and “Spider-Man: No Way Home,” saw the writing on the wall during a recent shoot. A visual effects supervisor opened his laptop to show off a reel of high-end commercials and something was missing. “There were no blue screens — none,” Mariscal recalls. “That’s what we do. We put up blues as grips. You’d normally hire an extra 10 people and have an extra three days of pre-rigging, setting up all these blue screens. He was like, ‘We don’t need it anymore. I just use AI to clip it out.’”

Mariscal runs Crew Stories, a private Facebook group with nearly 100,000 members, where working crew members share job leads, trade tips and voice their growing fears. He tries to keep up with the steady drip of AI news. “I read about AI all day, every day,” he says. “At least 20 posts a day.”

His fear isn’t just about fewer jobs — it’s about what comes next. “I’ve been doing this since I was 19,” Mariscal says of his specialized dolly work, which involves setting up heavy equipment and guiding the camera smoothly through complex shots. “I can push a cart in a parking lot. I can push a lawnmower. What else can I do?”

Who wins, who loses and what does James Cameron think?

Before AI and digital doubles, Mike Marino learned the craft of transformation the human way: through hands-on work and a fascination that bordered on obsession.

Marino was 5 years old when he first saw “The Elephant Man” on HBO. Horrified yet transfixed, he became fixated on prosthetics and the emotional power they could carry. As a teenager in New York, he pored over issues of Fangoria, studied monsters and makeup effects and experimented with sculpting his own latex masks on his bedroom floor.

Prosthetics artist Mike Marino asks a big question related to generative AI: What role do the human creatives play?

(Sean Dougherty / For The Times)

Decades later, Marino, 48, has become one of Hollywood’s leading makeup artists, earning Oscar nominations for “Coming 2 America,” “The Batman” and last year’s dark comedy “A Different Man,” in which he helped transform Sebastian Stan into a disfigured actor.

His is the kind of tactile, handcrafted work that once seemed irreplaceable. But today AI tools are increasingly capable of achieving similar effects digitally: de-aging actors, altering faces, even generating entire performances. What used to take weeks of experimentation and hours in a makeup trailer can now be approximated with a few prompts and a trained model. To Marino, AI is more than a new set of tools. It’s a fundamental change in what it means to create.

“If AI is so good it can replace a human, then why have any human beings?” he says. “This is about taste. It’s about choice. I’m a human being. I’m an artist. I have my own ideas — mine. Just because you can make 10,000 spaceships in a movie, should you?”

Marino is no technophobe. His team regularly uses 3D scanning and printing. But he draws the line at outsourcing creative judgment to a machine. “I’m hoping there are artists who want to work with humans and not machines,” he says. “If we let AI just run amok with no taste, no choice, no morality behind it, then we’re gone.”

Not everyone sees AI’s rise in film production as a zero-sum game. Some technologists imagine a middle path. Daniela Rus, director of MIT’s Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Lab and one of the world’s leading AI researchers, believes the future of filmmaking lies in a “human-machine partnership.”

AI, Rus argues, can take on time-consuming tasks like animating background extras, color correction or previsualizing effects, freeing up people to focus on what requires intuition and taste. “AI can help with the routine work,” she says. “But the human touch and emotional authenticity are essential.”

Few directors have spent more time grappling with the dangers and potential of artificial intelligence than James Cameron. Nearly 40 years before generative tools entered Hollywood’s workflow, he imagined a rogue AI triggering global apocalypse in 1984’s “The Terminator,” giving the world Skynet — now a cultural shorthand for the dark side of machine intelligence. Today, he continues to straddle that line, using AI behind the scenes on the upcoming “Avatar: Fire and Ash” to optimize visual effects and performance-capture, while keeping creative decisions in human hands. The latest sequel, due Dec. 19, promises to push the franchise’s spectacle and scale even further; a newly released trailer reveals volcanic eruptions, aerial battles and a new clan of Na’vi.

A scene from “Avatar: The Way of Water.” Director James Cameron differentiates between using machine-learning to reduce monotonous movie-making work and generative AI.

(Courtesy of 20th Century Studios/Courtesy of 20th Century Studios)

“You can automate a lot of processes that right now tie up a lot of artists doing mundane tasks,” Cameron told The Times in 2023 at a Beyond Fest screening of his 1989 film “The Abyss.” “So if we could accelerate the postproduction pipeline, then we can make more movies. Then those artists will get to do more exciting things.”

For Cameron, the promise of AI lies in efficiency, not elimination. “I think in our particular industry, it’s not going to replace people; it’s going to free them to do other things,” he believes. “It’s going to accelerate the process and bring the price down, which would be good because, you know, some movies are a little more expensive than others. And a lot of that has to do with human energy.”

Cameron himself directed five films between 1984 and 1994 and only three in the three decades since, though each one has grown increasingly complex and ambitious.

That said, Cameron has never been one to chase shortcuts for their own sake. “I think you can make pre-viz and design easier, but I don’t know if it makes it better,” he says. “I mean, if easy is your thing. Easy has never been my thing.”

He draws a line between the machine-learning techniques his team has used since the first “Avatar” to help automate tedious tasks and the newer wave of generative AI models making headlines today.

“The big explosion has been around image-based generative models that use everything from every image that’s ever been created,” he says. “We’d never use any of them. The images we make are computer-created, but they’re not AI-created.”

In his view, nothing synthetic can replace the instincts of a flesh-and-blood artist. “We have human artists that do all the designs,” he says. “We don’t need AI. We’ve got meat-I. And I’m one of the meat-artists that come up with all that stuff. We don’t need a computer. Maybe other people need it. We don’t.”

Reshaping creativity — and creative labor

Rick Carter didn’t go looking for AI as a tool. He discovered it as a lifeline.

The two-time Oscar-winning production designer, who worked with Cameron on “Avatar” and whose credits include “Jurassic Park” and “Forrest Gump,” began experimenting with generative AI tools like Midjourney and Runway during the pandemic, looking for a way to keep his creative instincts sharp while the industry was on pause. A longtime painter, he was drawn to the freedom the programs offered.

“I saw that there was an opportunity to create images where I didn’t have to go to anybody else for approval, which is the way I would paint,” Carter says by phone from Paris. “None of the gatekeeping would matter. I have a whole lot of stories on my own that I’ve tried to get into the world in various ways and suddenly there was a way to visualize them.”

Midjourney and Runway can create richly detailed images — and in Runway’s case, short video clips — from a text prompt or a combination of text and visuals. Trained on billions of images and audiovisual materials scraped from the internet, these systems learn to mimic style, lighting, composition and form, often with eerie precision. In a production pipeline, these tools can help concept artists visualize characters or sets, let directors generate shot ideas or give costume designers and makeup artists a fast way to test looks, long before physical production begins.

But as these tools gain traction in Hollywood, a deeper legal and creative dilemma is coming into focus: Who owns the work they produce? And what about the copyrighted material used to train them?

In June, Disney and Universal filed a federal copyright lawsuit against Midjourney, accusing the company of generating unauthorized replicas of characters such as Spider-Man, Darth Vader and Shrek using AI models trained on copyrighted material: what the suit calls a “bottomless pit of plagiarism.” It’s the most high-profile of several legal challenges now putting copyright law to the test in the age of generative AI.

“Forrest Gump” director Robert Zemeckis, left, with production designer Rick Carter at an art installation of the movie’s famed bench. (Carter family)

(Carter family)

Working with generative models, Carter began crafting what he calls “riffs of consciousness,” embracing AI as a kind of collaborative partner, one he could play off of intuitively. The process reminded him of the loose, improvisational early stages of filmmaking, a space he knows well from decades of working with directors like Robert Zemeckis and Steven Spielberg.

“I’ll just start with a visual or a word prompt and see how it iterates from there and what it triggers in my mind,” Carter says. “Then I incorporate that so it builds on its own in an almost free-associative way. But it’s still based upon my own intuitive, emotional, artistic, even spiritual needs at that moment.”

He describes the experience as a dialogue between two minds, one digital and one human: “One AI is artificial intelligence. The other AI is authentic intelligence — that’s us. We’ve earned it over this whole span of time on the planet.”

Sometimes, Carter says, the most evocative results come from mistakes. While sketching out a story about a hippie detective searching for a missing woman in the Himalayas, he accidentally typed “womb” into ChatGPT instead of “woman.” The AI ran with it, returning three pages of wild plot ideas involving gurus, seekers and a bizarre mystery set in motion by the disappearance.

“I couldn’t believe it,” he says. “I would never have taken it that far. The AI is so precocious. It is trying so much to please that it will literally make something out of the mistake you make.”

Carter hasn’t used generative AI on a film yet; most of his creations are shared only with friends. But he says the technology is already slipping into creative workflows in covert ways. “There are issues with copyrights with most of the studios so for now, it’s going to be mostly underground,” he says. “People will use it but they won’t acknowledge that they’re using it — they’ll have an illustrator do something over it, or take a photo so there’s no digital trail.”

Carter has lived through a major technological shift before. “I remember when we went from analog to digital, from ‘Jurassic Park’ on,” he says. “There were a lot of wonderful artists who could draw and paint in ways that were just fantastic but they couldn’t adapt. They didn’t want to — even the idea of it felt like the wrong way to make art. And, of course, most of them suffered because they didn’t make it from the Rolodex to the database in terms of people calling them up.”

He worries that some artists may approach the technology with a rigid sense of authorship. “Early on, I found that the less I used my own ego as a barometer for whether something was artistic, the more I leaned into the process of collaboratively making something bigger than the sum of its parts — and the bigger and better the movies became.”

Others, like storyboard artist Sam Tung, are bracing against the same wave with a quiet but unshakable defiance.

Tung, whose credits include “Twisters” and Christopher Nolan’s upcoming adaptation of “The Odyssey,” has spent the last two years tracking the rise of generative tools, not just their capabilities but their implications. As co-chair of the Animation Guild’s AI Committee, he has been on the front lines of conversations about how these technologies could reshape creative labor.

To artists like Tung, the rise of generative tools feels deeply personal. “If you are an illustrator or a writer or whatever, you had to give up other things to take time to develop those skills,” he says. “Nobody comes out of the womb being able to draw or write or act. Anybody who does that professionally spent years honing those skills.”

Tung has no interest in handing that over to a machine. “It’s not that I’m scared of it — I just don’t need it,” he says. “If I want to draw something or paint something, I’ll do it myself. That way it’s exactly what I want and I actually enjoy the process. When people tell me they responded to a drawing I did or a short film I made with friends, it feels great. But anything I’ve made with AI, I’ve quickly forgotten about. There’s basically nothing I get from putting it on social media, other than the ire of my peers.”

What unsettles him isn’t just the slickness of AI’s output but how that polish is being used to justify smaller crews and faster turnarounds. “If this is left unchecked, it’s very easy to imagine a worst-case scenario where team sizes and contract durations shrink,” Tung says. “A producer who barely understands how it works might say, ‘Don’t you have AI to do 70% of this? Why do you need a whole week to turn around a sequence? Just press the button that says: MAKE MOVIE.’ ”

At 73, Carter isn’t chasing jobs. His legacy is secure. “If they don’t hire me again, that’s OK,” he says. “I’m not in that game anymore.” He grew up in Hollywood — his father was Jack Lemmon’s longtime publicist and producing partner — and has spent his life watching the industry evolve. Now, he’s witnessing a reckoning unlike any he, or anyone else, has ever imagined.

“I do have concerns about who is developing AI and what their values are,” he says. “What they use all this for is not necessarily something I would approve of — politically, socially, emotionally. But I don’t think I’m in a position to approve or not.”

Earlier this year, the Palisades fire destroyed Carter’s home, taking with it years of paintings and personal artwork. AI, he says, has given him a way to keep creating through the upheaval. “It saved me through the pandemic, and now it’s saving me through the fire,” he says, as if daring the universe to test him again. “It’s like, go ahead, throw something else at me.”

‘Prompt and pray?’ Not so fast

Many in the industry may still be dipping a toe into the waters of AI. Verena Puhm dove in.

The Austrian-born filmmaker studied acting and directing in Munich and Salzburg before moving to Los Angeles, where she built a globe-spanning career producing, writing and developing content for international networks and streamers. Her credits range from CNN’s docuseries “History of the Sitcom” to the German reboot of the cult anthology “Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction” and a naval documentary available on Tubi. More recently, she has channeled that same creative range into a deepening exploration of generative tools.

Puhm first began dabbling with AI while using Midjourney to design a pitch deck, but it wasn’t until she entered a timed generative AI filmmaking challenge at the 2024 AI on the Lot conference — informally dubbed a “gen battle” — that the creative potential of the medium hit her.

“In two hours, I made a little mock commercial,” she remembers, proudly. “It was actually pretty well received and fun. And I was like, Oh, wow, I did this in two hours. What could I do in two days or two weeks?”

What started as experimentation soon became a second act. This summer, Puhm was named head of studio for Dream Lab LA, a new creative arm of Luma AI, which develops generative video tools for filmmakers and creators. There, she’s helping shape new storytelling formats and supporting emerging creators working at the intersection of cinema and technology. She may not be a household name, but in the world of experimental storytelling, she’s fast becoming a key figure.

Verena Puhm, a director, writer and producer, has used generative AI in a number of her projects, says it’s breaking down barriers to entry.

(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)

Some critics dismiss AI filmmaking as little more than “prompt and pray”: typing in a few words and hoping something usable comes out. Puhm bristles at the phrase.

“Anybody that says that tells me they’ve never tried it at all, because it is not that easy and simple,” she says. “You can buy a paintbrush at Home Depot for, what, $2? That doesn’t make you a painter. When smartphones first came out, there was a lot of content being made but that didn’t mean everyone was a filmmaker.”

What excites her most is how AI is breaking down the barriers that once kept ambitious ideas out of reach. Luma’s new Modify Video tool lets filmmakers tweak footage after it’s shot, changing wardrobe, aging a character, shifting the time of day, all without reshoots or traditional VFX. It can turn a garage into a spaceship, swap a cloudy sky for the aurora borealis or morph an actor into a six-eyed alien, no green screen required.

“It’s such a relief as an artist,” Puhm says. “If there’s a project I’ve been sitting on for six years because I didn’t have a $5 million budget — suddenly there’s no limit. I remember shopping projects around and being told by producers, ‘This scene has to go, that has to go,’ just to keep the budget low. Now everything is open.”

That sense of access resonates far beyond Los Angeles. At a panel during AI on the Lot, “Blue Beetle” director Ángel Manuel Soto reflected on how transformative AI might have been when he was first starting out. “I wish tools like this existed when I wanted to make movies in Puerto Rico, because nobody would lend me a camera,” he said. “Access to equipment is a privilege we sometimes take for granted. I see this helping kids like me from the projects tell stories without going bankrupt — or stealing, which I don’t condone.”

Puhm welcomes criticism of AI but only when it’s informed. “If you hate AI and you’ve actually tested the tools and educated yourself, I’ll be your biggest supporter,” she says. “But if you’re just speaking out of fear, with no understanding, then what are you even basing your opinion on?”

She understands why some filmmakers feel rattled, especially those who, like her, grew up dreaming of seeing their work on the big screen. “I still want to make features and TV series — that’s what I set out to do,” she says. “I hope movie theaters don’t go away. But if the same story I want to tell reaches millions of people on a phone and they’re excited about it, will I really care that it wasn’t in a theater?”

“I just feel like we have to adapt to the reality of things,” she continues. “That might sometimes be uncomfortable, but there is so much opportunity if you lean in. Right now any filmmaker can suddenly tell a story at a high production value that they could have never done before, and that is beautiful and empowering.”

For many, embracing AI boils down to a simple choice: adapt or get cut from the frame.

Hal Watmough, a BAFTA-winning British editor with two decades of experience, first began experimenting with AI out of a mix of curiosity and dread. “I was scared,” he admits. “This thing was coming into the industry and threatening our jobs and was going to make us obsolete.” But once he started playing with tools like Midjourney and Runway, he quickly saw how they could not only speed up the process but allow him to rethink what his career could be.

For an editor used to working only with what he was given, the ability to generate footage on the fly, cut with it immediately and experiment endlessly without waiting on a crew or a shoot was a revelation. “It was still pretty janky at that stage, but I could see the potential,” he says. “It was kind of intoxicating. I started to think, I’d like to start making things that I haven’t seen before.”

After honing his skills with various AI tools, Watmough created a wistful, vibrant five-minute animated short called “LATE,” about an aging artist passing his wisdom to a young office worker. Over two weeks, he generated 2,181 images using AI, then curated and refined them frame by frame to shape the story.

Earlier this year, he submitted “LATE” to what was billed as the world’s first AI animation contest, hosted by Curious Refuge, an online education hub for creative technologists — and, to his delight, he won. The prize included $10,000, a pitch meeting with production company Promise Studios and, as an absurd bonus, his face printed on a potato. But for Watmough, the real reward was the sense that he had found a new creative identity.

“There’s something to the fact that the winner of the first AI animation competition was an editor,” Watmough says. “With the advent of AI, yes, you could call yourself a filmmaker but essentially I’d say most people are editors. You’re curating, selecting, picking what you like — relying on your taste.”

Thanks to AI, he says he’s made more personal passion projects in the past year and a half than during his entire previous career. “I’ll be walking or running and ideas just come. Now I can go home that night and try them,” he says. “None of that would exist without AI. So either something exists within AI or it never exists at all. And all the happiness and fulfillment that comes with it for the creator doesn’t exist either.”

Watmough hasn’t entirely lost his fear of what AI might do to the creative workforce, even as he is energized by what it makes possible. “A lot of people I speak to in film and TV are worried about losing their jobs and I’m not saying the infrastructure roles won’t radically change,” he says. “But I don’t think AI is going to replace that many — if any — creative people.”

What it will do, he says, is raise the bar. “If anyone can create anything, then average work will basically become extinct or pointless. AI can churn out remakes until the cows come home. You’ll have to pioneer to exist.”

He likens the current moment to the birth of cinema more than a century ago — specifically the Lumière brothers’ “Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat,” the 1896 short that famously startled early audiences. In the silent one-minute film, a steam train rumbles toward the camera, growing larger. Some viewers reportedly leaped from their seats, convinced it was about to crash into them.

“People ran out of the theater screaming,” Watmough says. “Now we don’t even think about it. With AI, we’re at that stage again. We’re watching the steam train come into the station and people are either really excited or they’re running out of the theater in fear. That’s where we are, right at the start. And the potential is limitless.”

Then again, he adds with a dry laugh, “I’m an eternal optimist, so take what I say with a grain of salt.”