Voices

Aug. 29 (UPI) — American nurses are expressing serious concerns over the changes at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, said the American Nurses Association.

The White House on Thursday named Jim O’Neill, a close ally of top health official Robert F. Kennedy Jr., to serve as acting director of the CDC, according to sources in multiple media reports.

The move came one day after the President Donald Trump administration fired CDC Director Susan Monarez less than one month into the job. Kennedy, secretary of Health and Human Services, had pushed Monarez to resign after she disagreed with his anti-vaccine policies, but she refused.

Four other CDC leaders also resigned Wednesday over frustration about anti-vaccine policy pushed by Kennedy.

“The removal of the CDC director and resignation of key leaders raises serious questions about our country’s ability to respond to a public health crisis if it were to happen today” said ANA President Jennifer Mensik Kennedy in a press release. “There has been a lot of change but not a lot of change management. The amount of change without transparency and clear communication is whipsawing to healthcare professionals and the public at large. Americans deserve steady and consistent leadership at the helm of the CDC to safeguard their health, safety, the economy and national security.”

The press release said that public confidence in federal health guidance hinges on agencies that operate free from political interference and grounded solely in science and evidence-based practice.

“At a time when America faces constant public health threats, these abrupt changes do not further the public’s trust in our health care system and could potentially pose a direct risk to the safety and security of our nation. We are concerned that if a public health crisis were to occur today, our nation would not be positioned to respond effectively,” the release said.

The ANA was removed, along with others, from the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices, which compounds concerns, the ANA said.

“A strong ACIP must be reconstituted to ensure robust and balanced debate. As the largest and most trusted segment of the health care workforce, nurses understand that public health and national security are interconnected as health crises can threaten a nation’s stability, economy and national security. We saw this during COVID. A strong CDC is essential to safeguarding public health,” the release said.

O’Neill, who served as deputy secretary of the HHS, was selected to fill the top CDC post temporarily, unnamed sources told The Washington Post, which first reported the news. Axios and The Hill independently confirmed the appointment.

O’Neill previously served as principal associate deputy secretary of the HHS during the administration of President George W. Bush. He is also the former CEO of the Thiel Foundation, founded by Peter Thiel, a Trump donor.

Monarez has refused to leave her job as head of the CDC and was contesting her ouster, saying only Trump has the authority to fire her. Monarez’s lawyers said Kennedy sought to remove her because she declined “to rubber-stamp unscientific, reckless directives” and she accused him of “weaponizing public health,” according to the BBC.

COLUMBUS, Ohio — U.S. veterans of the war in Afghanistan are telling a commission reviewing decisions on the 20-year conflict that their experience was not only hell, but also confounding, demoralizing and at times humiliating.

The bipartisan Afghanistan War Commission aims to reflect such veterans’ experiences in a report due to Congress next year, which will analyze key strategic, diplomatic, military and operational decisions made between June 2001 and the chaotic withdrawal in August 2021.

The group released its second interim report on Tuesday, drawing no conclusions yet but identifying themes emerging from thousands of pages of government documents; some 160 interviews with cabinet-level officials, military commanders, diplomats, Afghan and Pakistani leaders and others; and forums with veterans like one recently held at a national Veterans of Foreign Wars convention in Columbus, Ohio.

“What can we learn from the Afghanistan War?” asked an Aug. 12 discussion session with four of the commission’s 16 members. What they got was two straight hours of dozens of veterans’ personal stories — not one glowingly positive, and most saturated in frustration and disappointment.

“I think the best way to describe that experience was awful,” said Marine veteran Brittany Dymond, who served in Afghanistan in 2012.

Navy veteran Florence Welch said the 2021 withdrawal made her ashamed she ever served there.

“It turned us into a Vietnam, a Vietnam that none of us worked for,” she said.

Members of Congress, some driven by having served in the war, created the independent commission several months after the withdrawal, after an assessment by the Democratic administration of then-President Biden faulted the actions of President Trump’s first administration for constraining U.S. options. A Republican review, in turn, blamed Biden. Views of the events remain divided, and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth ordered yet another review this spring.

The commission wants to understand the bigger picture of a conflict that spanned four presidential administrations and cost more than 2,400 American lives, said Co-Chair Dr. Colin Jackson.

“So we’re interested in looking hard at the end of U.S. engagement in Afghanistan, but we’re equally interested in understanding the beginning, the middle and the end,” he said in an interview in Columbus.

Co-chair Shamila Chaudhary said the panel is also exploring more sweeping questions.

“So our work is not just about what the U.S. did in Afghanistan but what the U.S. should be doing in any country where it deems it has a national security interest,” she said. “And not just should it be there, but how it should behave, what values does it guide itself by, and how does it engage with individuals who are very different from themselves.”

Jackson said one of the commission’s priorities is making sure the final report, due in August 2026, isn’t “unrecognizable to any veteran of the Afghanistan conflict.”

“The nature of the report should be representative of every soldier, sailor, airman, Marine experience,” he said.

Dymond told commissioners a big problem was the mission.

“You cannot exert a democratic agenda, which is our foreign policy, you cannot do that on a culture of people who are not bought into your ideology,” she said. “What else do we expect the outcome to be? And so we had two decades of service members lost and maimed because we’re trying to change an ideology that they didn’t ask for.”

The experience left eight-year Army veteran Steve Orf demoralized. He said he didn’t go there “to beat a bad guy.”

“Those of us who served generally wanted to believe that we were helping to improve the world, and we carried with us the hopes, values, and principles of the United States — values and principles that also seem to have been casualties of this war,” he told commissioners. “For many of us, faith with our leaders is broken and trust in our country is broken.”

Tuesday’s report identifies emerging themes of the review to include strategic drift, interagency incoherence, and whether the war inside Afghanistan and the counterterrorism war beyond were pursuing the same aims or at cross purposes.

It also details difficulties the commission has encountered getting key documents. According to the report, the Biden administration initially denied the commission’s requests for White House materials on the implementation of the February 2020 peace agreement Trump signed with the Taliban, called the Doha Agreement, and on the handling of the withdrawal, citing executive confidentiality concerns.

The transition to Trump’s second term brought further delays and complications, but since the commission has pressed the urgency of its mission with the new administration, critical intelligence and documents have now begun to flow, the report says.

Smyth and Aftoora-Orsagos write for the Associated Press.

For filmmaker Scott Mann, three dozen F-bombs had the makings of a million-dollar headache.

When Mann wrapped “Fall,” a 2022 thriller about two women stranded atop a 2,000-foot radio tower, he figured the hard part was over. Shot in the Mojave Desert on a $3-million budget, the film didn’t have money to burn and seemed on course. But Lionsgate wanted a PG-13 rating and, with 35 expletives, “Fall” was headed for an R. Reshoots would cost more than $1 million — far beyond what the production could afford.

In the past, a director might have taken out a second mortgage or thrown themselves at the mercy of the ratings board. Mann instead turned to AI.

A few years earlier, he had been dismayed by how a German dub of his 2015 thriller “Heist” flattened the performances, including a key scene with Robert De Niro, to match stiff, mistranslated dialogue. That frustration led Mann to co-found Flawless, an AI startup aimed at preserving the integrity of an actor’s performance across languages. As a proof of concept, he used the company’s tech to subtly reshape De Niro’s mouth movements and restore the emotional nuance of the original scene.

On “Fall,” Mann applied that same technology to clean up the profanity without reshoots, digitally modifying the actors’ mouths to match PG-13-friendly lines like “freaking” — at a fraction of the cost.

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

As AI stirs both hype and anxiety in Hollywood, Mann understands why even such subtle digital tweaks can feel like a violation. That tension came to a head during the 2023 SAG-AFTRA strike, in which AI became the defining flash point in the fight over acting’s future.

“Ours is a rights-based industry,” says Mann, 45, who helped develop a digital rights management platform at Flawless to ensure performers approve any changes to their work. “It’s built on protecting human creativity, the contributions of actors, directors, editors, and if those rights aren’t protected, that value gets lost.”

Mann at his office in Santa Monica.

(Brian Feinzimer / For The Times)

Still, Mann doesn’t see AI as a threat so much as a misunderstood tool — one that, used carefully, can support the artists it’s accused of replacing. Flawless’ DeepEditor, for example, lets directors transfer facial expressions from one take to another, even when the camera angle or lighting changes, helping actors preserve their strongest moments without breaking continuity.

“Plenty of actors I’ve worked with have had that moment where they see what’s possible and realize, ‘Oh my God, this is so much better,’” Mann says. “It frees them up, takes off the pressure and helps them do a better job. Shutting AI out is naive and a way to end up on the wrong side of history. Done right, this will make the industry grow and thrive.”

AI isn’t hovering at the edges of acting anymore — it’s already on soundstages and in editing bays. Studios have used digital tools to de-age Harrison Ford in “Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny,” resurrect Peter Cushing’s Grand Moff Tarkin in “Rogue One” and clone Val Kilmer’s voice in “Top Gun: Maverick” after throat cancer left him unable to speak. The technology has reshaped faces, smoothed dialogue and fast-tracked everything from dubbing to reshoots. And its reach is growing: Studios can now revive long-dead stars, conjure stunt doubles who never get hurt and rewrite performances long after wrap.

But should they?

Actors outside Paramount Studios during a SAG-AFTRA solidarity rally in September 2023.

(Al Seib / For The Times)

As the tools grow more sophisticated, the threat to actors goes beyond creative disruption. In an industry where steady work is already elusive and the middle class of working actors is vanishing, AI raises the prospect of fewer jobs, lower pay and, in a dystopian twist, a future in which your disembodied face and voice might get work without you.

Background actors were among the first to sound the alarm during the 2023 strike, protesting studio proposals to scan them once and reuse their likenesses indefinitely. That scenario is already beginning to unfold: In China, a state-backed initiative will use AI to reimagine 100 kung fu classics, including films starring Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee, through animation and other digital enhancements. Lee’s estate said it was unaware of the project, raising questions about how these actors’ likenesses might be used, decades after filming.

If the soul of acting is a human presence, what remains when even that can be simulated?

“You want to feel breath — you want to feel life,” said actor and director Ethan Hawke during a panel at 2023’s Telluride Film Festival, where strike-era unease over AI was palpable. “When we see a great painting, we feel a human being’s blood, sweat and tears. That’s what we’re all looking for, that connection with the present moment. And AI can’t do that.”

Who’s in control?

Justine Bateman may seem like an unlikely crusader in Hollywood’s fight against AI. Launched to fame as Mallory Keaton on the 1980s sitcom “Family Ties,” she later became a filmmaker and earned a computer science degree from UCLA. Now, as founder of the advocacy group CREDO23, Bateman has become one of the industry’s fiercest voices urging filmmakers to reject AI-generated content and defend the integrity of human-made work. Loosely modeled on Dogme 95, CREDO23 offers a certification of films made without AI, using minimal VFX and union crews. It’s a pledge backed by a council including “Mad Men” creator Matthew Weiner, “The Handmaid’s Tale” director Reed Morano and actor Juliette Lewis.

The 2023 SAG-AFTRA contract set new guardrails: Studios must get actors’ consent to create or use digital replicas of their likenesses, and those replicas can’t generate new performances without a separate deal. Actors must also be compensated and credited when their digital likeness is used.

But to Bateman, a former SAG-AFTRA board member and negotiating committee rep, those protections are little more than sandbags against an inevitable AI flood: hard-won but already straining to keep the technology at bay.

“The allowances in the contract are pretty astounding,” Bateman says by phone, her voice tight with exasperation. “If you can picture the Teamsters allowing self-driving trucks in their contract — that’s on par with what SAG did. If you’re not making sure human roles are played by human actors, I’m not sure what the union is for.”

Justine Bateman, photographed by The Times in 2022.

(Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)

To Bateman, the idea that AI expands access to filmmaking — a central tenet of its utopian sales pitch — is a dangerous myth, one that obscures deeper questions about authorship and the value of creative labor.

“Anyone can make a film — my last two, I shot on an iPhone,” Bateman says. “The idea that AI is ‘democratizing film’ doesn’t even make sense. What it really does is remove the barrier of skill. It lets people pretend they’re filmmakers when they’re not, by prompting software that wouldn’t even function without having stolen a hundred years of film and TV production made by real filmmakers.”

Bateman’s opposition to AI is rooted in a deep distrust of Silicon Valley’s expanding influence over the creative process and a belief that filmmaking should be driven by artists, not algorithms. “The tech bro business completely jumped the shark with generative AI,” she says. “Is it solving plastics in the ocean? Homelessness? L.A. traffic? Not that I’m aware of.”

She scoffs at the supposed efficiencies AI brings to the filmmaking process: “It’s like saying, whatever somebody enjoys — sex or an ice cream sundae — ‘Hey, now you can do it in a quarter of the time.’ OK, but then what do you think life is for?“

To Bateman, an actor’s voice, face, movements or even their choice of costume is not raw material to be reshaped but an expression of authorship. AI, in her view, erases those choices and the intent behind them. “I’m deeply against changing what the actor did,” she says. “It’s not right to have the actor doing things or saying things they didn’t do — or to alter their hair, makeup or clothes in postproduction using AI. The actor knows what they did.”

While Bateman has been public and unwavering in her stance, many actors remain unsure whether to raise their voices. In the wake of the strikes, much of the conversation around AI has moved behind closed doors, leaving those who do speak out feeling at times exposed and alone.

Scarlett Johansson, who lent her smoky, hypnotic voice to the fictional AI in Spike Jonze’s Oscar-winning 2013 film “Her,” now finds herself in a uniquely uncomfortable position: She’s both a symbol of our collective fascination with artificial performance and a real-world example of what’s at stake when that line is crossed. Last year, she accused OpenAI of using a chatbot voice that sounded “eerily similar” to hers, months after she declined to license it. OpenAI denied the claim and pulled the voice, but the incident reignited concern over consent and control.

Johansson has long spoken out against the unauthorized use of her image, including her appearance in deepfake pornography, and has pushed for stronger safeguards against digital impersonation. To date, though, she is one of the few major stars to publicly push back against the creeping mimicry enabled by AI — and she’s frustrated that more haven’t joined her. “There has to be some agreed-upon set of boundaries in order for [AI] to not be detrimental,” she told Vanity Fair in May. “I wish more people in the public eye would support and speak out about that. I don’t know why that’s not the case.”

Lights, camera, replication

Ed Ulbrich, 60, a pioneering visual effects producer and co-founder of Digital Domain, has spent his career helping actors do the impossible, one pixel at a time.

In 2008’s “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button,” he led the team of more than 150 artists in building a fully digital version of Brad Pitt’s face so the actor could convincingly age in reverse — a two-year effort that earned Ulbrich and three colleagues an Oscar for visual effects and set a new benchmark for digital performance. (Nearly two decades later, the achievement is still impressive, although some scenes, especially those with Pitt’s aged face composited on a child’s body, now show their digital seams.) For 2010’s “Tron: Legacy,” Ulbrich helped digitally transform Jeff Bridges into his 1982 self using motion capture and CGI.

Working on last year’s “Here” — Robert Zemeckis’ technically daring drama starring Tom Hanks and Robin Wright as a couple whose lives play out across decades in a single New Jersey living room — showed Ulbrich just how far things have come. For someone who jokes he has “real estate in the uncanny valley,” it wasn’t just the AI-enabled realism that floored him. It was the immediacy. On set, AI wasn’t enhancing footage after the fact; it was visually reshaping the performance in real time.

Tom Hanks and Robin Wright in the movie “Here.”

(Sony Pictures Ent.)

“You look up and see 67-year-old Tom Hanks. You look down at the monitor — he’s 20, and it looks better than the best CGI,” Ulbrich says. “In my world, the human face is the holy grail. That is the most complicated thing you can do. And now it’s getting done in near real time before your eyes. The actor can come back and look at the monitor and get new ideas, because they’re seeing a different version of themselves: younger, older, as an alien or whatever.”

This kind of seamless AI-driven alteration marks a new frontier in postproduction. Modern AI systems can now “beautify” actors’ faces, like some would with a Instagram or Zoom filter: smooth out wrinkles, alter skin tone, sharpen jawlines, subtly nudge eye position to better match a desired gaze. What once required painstaking VFX can now be handled by fast, flexible AI tools, often with results invisible to audiences.

Once limited to only big-budget sci-fi and fantasy productions, this digital touch-up capability is expanding into rom-coms, prestige dramas, high-end TV and even some indie films. Dialogue can be rewritten and re-lipped in post. Facial expressions can be smoothed or swapped without reshoots. More and more, viewers may have no way of knowing what’s real and what’s been subtly adjusted.

“Here” was largely rejected by both audiences and critics, with some deeming its digitally de-aged performances more unsettling than moving. But Ulbrich says digitally enhanced performance is already well underway.

Talent agency CAA has built a vault of client scans, a kind of biometric asset library for future productions. Some stars now negotiate contracts that reduce their time on set, skipping hours in the makeup chair or performance-capture gear, knowing AI can fill in the gaps.

“Robert Downey, Brad Pitt, Will Smith — they’ve all been scanned many times,” says Ulbrich, who recently joined the AI-driven media company Moonvalley, which pitches itself as a more ethical, artist-centered player in the space. “If you’ve done a studio tentpole, you’ve been scanned.

“There is a lot of fear around AI and it’s founded,” he adds. “Unless you do something about it, you can just get run over. But there are people out there that are harnessing this. At this point, fighting AI is like fighting against electricity.”

While many in Hollywood wrestle with what AI means for the oldest component of moviemaking, others take a more pragmatic view, treating it as a tool to solve problems and keep productions on track. Jerry Bruckheimer, the powerhouse producer behind “Top Gun,” “Pirates of the Caribbean” and this summer’s “F1,” is among those embracing its utility.

“AI is not going anywhere and it’s only going to get more useful for people in our business,” he said in a recent interview with The Times.

He recalled one such moment during post-production on his new Brad Pitt–led Formula One drama, a logistical feat filmed during actual Formula One races across Europe and the Middle East, with a budget north of $200 million.

“Brad was in the wilds of New Zealand, and we had test screenings coming up,” Bruckheimer says. “We couldn’t get his voice to do some looping, so we used an app that could mimic Brad Pitt. I’m sure the union will come after me if you write that, but it wasn’t used in the movie because he became available.”

While he’s skeptical of AI’s ability to generate truly original ideas — “We’re always going to need writers,” he says — Bruckheimer, whose films have grossed more than $16 billion worldwide, sees AI as a powerful tool for global reach.

“They can take Brad’s voice from the movie and turn it into other languages so it’s actually his voice, rather than another actor,” he says. “If it’s not available yet, it will be.”

The debate over AI in performance flared earlier this year with “The Brutalist,” Brady Corbet’s award-winning drama about a Hungarian architect. After the film’s editor, Dávid Jancsó, revealed that AI voice-cloning software had been used to subtly modify the Hungarian accents of stars Adrien Brody and Felicity Jones, the backlash followed swiftly.

Some critics accused the film of using AI to smooth over performances while presenting itself as handcrafted, a move one viral post derided as trying to “cheap out without soul.” Corbet later clarified that AI was used sparingly, only to adjust vowel sounds, but the decision left some viewers uneasy — even as Brody went on to win the Oscar for lead actor.

If the controversy over “The Brutalist” struck some as a moral crisis, David Cronenberg found the whole thing overblown. Few filmmakers have probed the entanglement of flesh, identity and technology as relentlessly as the director of “Videodrome,” “The Fly” and last year’s “The Shrouds,” so he’s not particularly rattled by the rise of AI-assisted performances.

“All directors have always messed around with actors’ performances — that’s what editing is,” Cronenberg told The Times in April. “Filmmaking isn’t theater. It’s not sacred. We’ve been using versions of this for years. It’s another tool in the toolbox. And it’s not controlling you — you can choose not to use it.”

Long before digital tools, Cronenberg recalls adjusting actor John Lone’s vocal pitch in his 1993 film “M. Butterfly,” in which Lone played a Chinese opera singer and spy who presents as a woman to seduce a French diplomat. The director raised the pitch when the character appeared as a woman and lowered it when he didn’t — a subtle manipulation to reinforce the illusion.

David Cronenberg, photographed at his home in Toronto, Canada, in April.

(Kate Dockeray / For The Times)

Far from alarmed, Cronenberg is intrigued by AI’s creative potential as a way of reshaping authorship itself. With new platforms like OpenAI’s Sora and Google’s Veo 3 now capable of generating increasingly photorealistic clips from simple text prompts, an entire performance could conceivably be conjured from a writer’s keyboard.

“Suddenly you can write a scene — a woman is walking down the street, she looks like this, she’s wearing that, it’s raining, whatever — and AI can create a video for you,” Cronenberg says. “To me, this is all exciting. It absolutely can threaten all kinds of jobs and that has to be dealt with, but every technological advance has done that and we just have to adapt and figure it out.”

Ghosts in the frame

In the Hollywood of the late 1970s, there was no AI to tweak an actor’s face. So when “Star Wars” star Mark Hamill fractured his nose and left cheekbone in a serious car crash between shooting the first and second films, the solution was to tweak the story. The 1980 sequel “The Empire Strikes Back” opened with Luke Skywalker being attacked by a nine-foot-tall snow beast called a wampa on the ice planet Hoth, partly to account for the change in his appearance.

Decades later, when Hamill was invited to return as a younger version of himself in the 2020 Season 2 finale of “The Mandalorian,” the chance to show Luke “at the height of his powers was irresistible,” he says.

But the reality left him feeling oddly detached from the character that made him famous. Hamill shared the role with a younger body double, and digital de-aging tools recreated his face from decades earlier. The character’s voice, meanwhile, was synthesized using Respeecher, a neural network trained on old recordings of Hamill to mimic his speech from the original trilogy era.

“I didn’t have that much dialogue: ‘Are you Luke Skywalker?’ ‘I am,’” Hamill recalled in an interview with The Times earlier this year. “I don’t know what they do when they take it away, in terms of tweaking it and making your voice go up in pitch or whatever.”

When fans speculated online that he hadn’t participated at all, Hamill declined to correct the record.

“My agent said, ‘Do you want me to put out a statement or something?’” Hamill recalls. “I said, ‘Eh, people are going to say what they want to say.’ Maybe if you deny it, they say, ‘See? That proves it — he’s denying it.’”

A digitally de-aged Mark Hamill as the young Luke Skywalker in a 2020 episode of “The Mandalorian.”

(Lucasfilm Ltd.)

When Luke returned again in a 2022 episode of “The Book of Boba Fett,” the process was even more synthetic: Hamill was minimally involved on camera and the character was built almost entirely from digital parts: a de-aged face mapped onto a body double with an AI-generated voice delivering his lines. Hamill was credited and compensated, though the exact terms of the arrangement haven’t been made public.

The visual effect was notably improved from earlier efforts, thanks in part to a viral deepfake artist known as Shamook, whose YouTube video improving the VFX in “The Mandalorian” finale had racked up millions of views. He was soon hired by Industrial Light & Magic — a rare case of fan-made tech critique turning into a studio job.

“In essence, yes, I did participate,” Hamill says.

It’s one thing to be digitally altered while you’re still alive. It’s another to keep performing after you’re gone.

Before his death last year, James Earl Jones — whose resonant baritone helped define Darth Vader for generations — gave Lucasfilm permission to recreate his voice using AI. In a recent collaboration with Disney, Epic Games deployed that digital voice in Fortnite, allowing players to team up with Vader and hear new lines delivered in Jones’ unmistakable tones, scripted by Google’s Gemini AI.

In May, SAG-AFTRA later filed a labor charge, saying the use of Jones’ voice hadn’t been cleared with the union.

Last year’s “Alien: Romulus” sparked similar backlash over the digital resurrection of Ian Holm’s android character Ash nearly a decade after Holm’s death. Reconstructed using a blend of AI and archival footage, the scenes were slammed by some fans as a form of “digital necromancy.” For the film’s home video release, director Fede Álvarez quietly issued an alternate cut that relied more heavily on practical effects, including an animatronic head modeled from a preexisting cast of Holm’s face.

For Hollywood, AI allows nostalgia to become a renewable resource, endlessly reprocessed and resold. Familiar faces can be altered, repurposed and inserted into entirely new stories. The audience never has to say goodbye and the industry never has to take the risk of introducing someone new.

Hamill, for his part, seems ready to let go of Luke. After his final arc in 2017’s “The Last Jedi,” he says he feels a sense of closure.

“I don’t know the full impact AI will have but I find it very ominous,“ he says. “I’m fine. I had my time. Now the spotlight should be on the current and future actors and I hope they enjoy it as much as I did.”

Actors, not avatars

Actor and AI startup Wonder Dynamics co-founder Tye Sheridan, photographed by The Times in 2021.

(Michael Nagle / For The Times)

Actor Tye Sheridan knows how dark an AI future could get. After all, he starred in Steven Spielberg’s 2018 “Ready Player One,” a sci-fi thriller set inside a corporate-controlled world of digital avatars. But Sheridan isn’t trying to escape into that world — he’s trying to shape the one ahead.

With VFX supervisor Nikola Todorovic, Sheridan co-founded Wonder Dynamics in 2017 to explore how AI can expand what’s possible on screen. Their platform uses AI to insert digital characters into live-action scenes without green screens or motion-capture suits, making high-end VFX more accessible to low-budget filmmakers. Backed by Spielberg and “Avengers” co-director Joe Russo, Wonder Dynamics was acquired last year by Autodesk, the software firm behind many animation and design tools.

“Since the advent of the camera, technology has been pushing this industry forward,” Sheridan, 28, says on a video call. “AI is just another part of that path. It can make filmmaking more accessible, help discover new voices. Maybe the next James Cameron will find their way into the industry through some AI avenue. I think that’s really exciting.”

With production costs spiraling, Todorovic sees AI as a way to lower the barrier to entry and make riskier, more ambitious projects possible. “We really see AI going in that direction, where you can get those A24-grounded stories with Marvel visuals,” he says. “That’s what younger audiences are hungry for.”

The shift, Todorovic argues, could lead to more films overall and more opportunities for actors. “Maybe instead of 10,000 people making five movies, it’ll be 1,000 people making 50,” he says.

Still, Todorovic sees a threshold approaching, one where synthetic actors could, in theory, carry a film. “I do think technically it is going to get solved,” Todorovic says. “But the question remains — is that what we really want? Do we really want the top five movies of the year to star humans who don’t exist? I sure hope not.”

For him, the boundary isn’t just about realism. It’s about human truth.

“You can’t prompt a performance,” he says. “You can’t explain certain movements of the body and it’s very hard to describe emotions. Acting is all about reacting. That’s why when you make a movie, you do five takes — or 40. Because it’s hard to communicate.”

Sheridan, who has appeared in the “X-Men” franchise as well as smaller dramas like “The Card Counter” and “The Tender Bar,” understands that instinctively and personally. “I started acting in films when I was 11 years old,” he says. “I wouldn’t ever want to build something that put me out of a job. That’s the fun part — performing, exploring, discovering the nuances. That’s why we fall in love with certain artists: their unique sensibility, the way they do what no one else can.”

He knows that may sound contradictory coming from the co-founder of an AI company. That’s exactly why he believes it’s critical that artists, not Silicon Valley CEOs, are the ones shaping how the technology is used.

“We should be skeptical of AI and its bad uses,” he says. “It’s a tool that can be used for good or bad. How are we going to apply it to create more access and opportunity in this industry and have more voices heard? We’re focused on keeping the artist as an essential part of the process, not replacing them.”

For now, Sheridan lives inside that paradox, navigating a technology that could both elevate and imperil the stories he cares most about.

His next acting gig? “The Housewife,” a psychological drama co-starring Naomi Watts and Michael Imperioli, in which he plays a 1960s New York Times reporter investigating a suspected Nazi hiding in Queens. No AI. No doubles. Just people pretending to be other people the old way, while it lasts.

This is not a warning.

Famine has already arrived in Gaza. It is not a metaphor, nor is it a prediction. It is daily.

It is the child who wakes up asking for biscuits that no longer exist. The student who studies for exams while faint from hunger.

It is the mother who cannot explain to her son why there is no bread.

And it is the silence of the world that makes this horror possible.

Children of the famine

Noor, my eldest sister Tasneem’s daughter, is three; she was born on May 11, 2021. My sister’s son, Ezz Aldin, was born on December 25, 2023 – in the early months of the war.

One morning, Tasneem walked into our space carrying them in her arms. I looked at her and asked the question that wouldn’t leave my mind: “Tasneem, do Noor and Ezz Aldin understand hunger? Do they know we’re in a famine?”

“Yes,” she said immediately. “Even Ezz, who’s only known war and ruins, understands. He’s never seen real food in his life. He doesn’t know what ‘options’ are. The only thing he ever asks for is bread.”

She imitated his baby voice: “Obz! Obza! Obza!” – his way of saying “khobza” (a piece of bread).

She had to tell him, “There’s no flour, darling. Your dad went out to look for some.”

Ezz Aldin doesn’t know about ceasefires, borders, or politics. He doesn’t care about military operations or diplomatic statements.

He just wants one small piece of bread. And the world gives him nothing.

Noor has learned to count and recite the alphabet from her mother. Before the war, she loved chocolate, biscuits. She was the first grandchild in our family, showered with toys, snacks, and little dresses.

Now, every morning, she wakes up and turns to her mother with wide, excited eyes. “Go buy me 15 chocolates and biscuits,” she says.

She says 15 because it’s the biggest number she knows. It sounds like enough; enough to fill her stomach, enough to bring back the world she knew. But there’s nothing to buy. There’s nothing left.

Where is your humanity? Look at her. Then tell me what justice looks like.

Killed after five days of hunger

I watched a video that broke my heart. A man mourned over the shrouded bodies of seven of his family. In despair, he cried, “We’re hungry.”

They had been starving for days, then an Israeli surveillance drone struck their tent near al-Tabin School in Daraj, northern Gaza.

“This is the young man I was raising,” the man in the video wept.  “Look what became of them,” as he touched their heads one last time.

Some people still don’t understand. This isn’t about whether we have money. It’s about the total absence of food. Even if you’re a millionaire in Gaza right now, you won’t find bread. You won’t find a bag of rice or a can of milk. Markets are empty. Shops are destroyed. Malls have been flattened. The shelves are not bare – they are gone.

We used to grow our own food. Gaza once exported fruits and vegetables; we sent strawberries to Europe. Our prices were the cheapest in the region.

A kilo (2.2 pounds) of grapes or apples? Three shekels ($0.90). A kilo of chicken from Gaza’s farms? Nine shekels ($2.70). Now, we can’t find a single egg.

Before: A massive watermelon from Khan Younis weighed 21 kilos (46 pounds) and cost 18 shekels ($5). Today: The same watermelon would cost $250 – if you can find it.

Avocados, once considered a luxury fruit, were grown by the tonne in al-Mawasi, Khan Younis and Rafah. They used to cost a dollar a kilo. We had self-sufficiency in dairy, too – cheeses and yoghurts made in Shujayea by local hands.

Our children were not spoiled – they just had basic rights. Breakfast meant milk. A sandwich with cheese. A boiled egg. Now, everything is cut off.

And no matter how I explain it to the children, they cannot grasp the words “famine” or “price hike”. They just know their bellies are empty.

Even seafood – once a staple of Gaza’s diet – has disappeared. Despite strict fishing restrictions, we used to send fish to the West Bank. Now, even our sea is silent.

And with all due respect to Turkish coffee, you haven’t tasted coffee until you’ve tried Mazaj Coffee from Gaza.

It had a strength you could feel in your bones.

This is not a forecast. Famine is now. Most of us are displaced. Unemployed. Mourning.

If we manage one meal a day, we eat it at night. It’s not a feast. It’s rice. Pasta. Maybe soup. Canned beans.

Things you keep as backup in your pantries. Here, they are luxury.

Most days, we drink water and nothing more. When hunger becomes too much, we scroll through old photos, pictures of meals from the past, just to remember what life once tasted like.

Starving while taking exams

As always, our university exams are online, because the campus is rubble.

We are living a genocide. And yet, we are trying to study.

I’m a second-year student.

We just finished our final exams for the first semester. We studied surrounded by hunger, by drones, by constant fear. This isn’t what people think university is.

We took exams on empty stomachs, under the scream of warplanes.  We tried to remember dates while forgetting the last time we tasted bread.

Every day, I talk with my friends – Huda, Mariam, and Esraa – on WhatsApp. We check on each other, asking the same questions over and over:

“What did you eat today?”

“Can you even concentrate?”

These are our conversations – not about lectures or assignments, but about hunger, headaches, dizziness, and how we’re still standing. One says, “My stomach hurts too much to think.” Another says, “I nearly collapsed when I stood up.”

And still, we keep going. Our last exam was on July 15. We held on, not because we were strong, but because we had no choice. We didn’t want to lose a semester. But even saying that feels so small compared to the truth.

Studying while starving chips away at your soul.

One day, during exams, an air strike hit our neighbours. The explosion shook the walls.

A moment before, I was thinking about how hungry I felt. A moment after, I felt nothing.

I didn’t run.

I stayed at my desk and kept studying. Not because I was OK, but because there is no other choice.

They starve us, then blame us

Let me be clear: The people of Gaza are being starved on purpose. We are not unlucky – we are victims of war crimes.

Open the crossings. Let aid enter. Let food enter. Let medicine enter.

Gaza doesn’t need sympathy. We can rebuild. We can recover. But first, stop starving us.

Killing, starving, and besieging are not just conditions – they are actions forced upon us. Language reveals those who try to hide who is responsible.

So we will keep saying: We were killed by the Israeli occupation. We were starved by the Israeli occupation. We were besieged by the Israeli occupation.

Kim Jong Un stresses Pyongyang-Moscow alliance during Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov’s visit to North Korea.

North Korean leader Kim Jong Un has told Russia’s top diplomat that Pyongyang is ready to “unconditionally support” all actions taken by Moscow in its war on Ukraine, state media reports, as the two countries held high-level strategic talks.

Russian Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergey Lavrov is on a three-day visit to North Korea, which has provided troops and arms for Russia’s war on Ukraine and pledged more military support as Moscow tries to make advances in the conflict.

Kim met Lavrov in the eastern coastal city of Wonsan, where Lavrov and his North Korean counterpart, Choe Son Hui, held their second strategic dialogue, pledging further cooperation under a partnership treaty signed last year that includes a mutual defence pact.

Kim told Lavrov the steps taken by the allies in response to radically evolving global geopolitics would contribute greatly to securing peace and security around the world, North Korea’s state news agency KCNA reported.

“Kim Jong Un reaffirmed the DPRK is ready to unconditionally support and encourage all the measures taken by the Russian leadership as regards the tackling of the root cause of the Ukrainian crisis,” KCNA said, using the acronym for the country’s official name, the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.

Russia’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs posted a video on Telegram of the two men shaking hands and greeting each other with a hug.

The North Korean leader also expressed a “firm belief that the Russian army and people would surely win victory in accomplishing the sacred cause of defending the dignity and basic interests of the country”.

The two men otherwise discussed “important matters for faithfully implementing the agreements made at the historic DPRK-Russia summit talks in June 2024”, KCNA said.

Relations between Russia and North Korea have deepened dramatically during the last two years of the war in Ukraine, which started with Russia’s full-scale invasion of its neighbour in February 2022, with Pyongyang deploying more than 10,000 troops and arms to back Moscow.

The two heavily sanctioned nations signed a military deal last year, including a mutual defence clause, during a rare visit by Russian President Vladimir Putin to North Korea.

Lavrov told Kim that Putin “hopes for continued direct contacts in the very near future”, according to the Russian state news agency TASS.

Ahead of the visit, Russia announced that it would begin twice-a-week flights between Moscow and Pyongyang.

Lavrov lauded Wonsan as “a good tourist attraction”, adding: “We hope it will be popular not only with local citizens, but also with Russians.”

Kelsey Plum initially sat quietly, holding back tears.

One issue weighed heavily on her mind — the lack of foul calls.

Calls that might have cost the Sparks a chance at victory in an 89-81 overtime loss to the Golden State Valkyries at Crypto.com Arena on Monday night.

Plum’s voice eventually broke as she expressed her frustration during the postgame news conference.

“I drive more than anyone in the league, so to shoot six free throws is… absurd,” Plum said, preempting her comments with an acknowledgment that the WNBA might fine her for criticizing the officiating. “I’ve got scratches on my face. I’ve got scratches on my body. And these guards on the other team get these ticky-tack fouls — I’m sick of it.”

The lack of foul calls overshadowed the Sparks’ second loss in three matchups this season against the expansion Valkyries, adding to what has been a tough, 3-7 start for the team.

Plum said she felt she was getting fouled on nearly “every possession.” Although the Sparks edged the Valkyries in free-throw attempts 25-23, Plum was dumbfounded that she hardly got any whistles. She made all six of her free-throw attempts, with her final trip to the line coming with 7:54 remaining in the third quarter — off a three-point attempt.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Plum said, referring to the no-calls at the end of the third and fourth quarters in a close game. “There were multiple shots at the end of the game — end of the third, end of the fourth — where they’re just coming in… swinging, and they don’t call anything.”

Sparks coach Lynne Roberts backed Plum, echoing her frustrations. She pointed out how Plum earned her trips to the line, while Plum whispered to her coach that she’d cover any potential fine that might come her way.

“Three of those were off a three. One was technical, a three-second violation,” Roberts said. “She got one time to the free-throw line attacking. When you think about it, it’s not right. … Obviously, the scouting report is to be as physical as you can with her. And it’s being allowed. So we’ve got to talk to the league about it, but it isn’t right.

“You watch some of the other stars in the league, they don’t get fouled like that without going to the free throw line.”

After the news conference, Plum spoke with the officiating crew — Jenna Reneau, Biniam Maru and Blanca Burns — for several minutes outside their designated room at Crypto.com Arena.

Despite the physical play thrown her way, Plum once again led the Sparks with 24 points, seven assists and four rebounds — and had multiple chances to win the game. After a back-and-forth stretch, the Sparks briefly reclaimed control behind Plum’s late-game heroics.

With 37.8 seconds left in regulation, everyone inside Crypto.com Arena knew where the ball was going. The Valkyries (4-5) threw everything they had at Kelsey Plum, trying to deny her a shot. But with defenders draped all over her, Plum delivered — drilling a clutch three-pointer over Temi Fágbénlé to give the Sparks a 78–76 lead.

It looked like the breakthrough the Sparks needed to finally close it out — but an easy layup on the other end tied it with 17.8 seconds remaining. Plum had another chance to win it at the buzzer, but her floater rimmed out, sending the game to overtime.

Dearica Hamby had 20 points, nine rebounds and five assists. Janelle Salaun led Golden State with 21 points and eight rebounds.

Golden State controlled the offensive glass, grabbing 17 rebounds to the Sparks’ six — a feat Roberts cited as a reason why the Valkyries won. Golden State finished with 49 total rebounds compared to the Sparks’ 34, further exposing L.A.’s struggles on the boards — they’re averaging just 32.2 per game.

Having already faced the Valkyries three times, the Sparks knew they would need to slow down their balanced offense and match the Valkyries’ physicality on defense.

For the most part, Roberts said her team did that by “forcing them to take some long, contested twos, and some tough, challenged threes.”

Roberts added: “They didn’t shoot it that much better than we did. Neither team had a tremendous shooting night, but if you get 17 second chances, you’re probably going to win.”

Valkyries coach Natalie Nakase knew her team needed extra possessions to beat the Sparks. She said that at halftime, she was frustrated by the lack of rebounds — a problem that Golden State quickly resolved in the second half.

“First time, I feel like I really had to dig deep and go off on them, but they responded,” Nakase said. “We knew five wasn’t enough — that’s not enough to beat this team. … A lot of extra possessions, just credit to them for that hunger.”