AI vs. the WGA, as Written by Nora Ephron (& Quentin Tarantino...
...& David Lynch & Aaron Sorkin & Alfred Hitchcock)
There are several reasons behind the current Writers Guild of America strike, now entering its fourth week. TV seasons have gotten shorter, meaning writers need to hustle for more gigs to make the same money. Residual payments are irrationally smaller for streaming than for broadcast, and unlike their colleagues at NBC or CBS, writers don’t receive anything extra if their Netflix or Prime show turns into a hit. But, perhaps unsurprisingly, it’s the artificial intelligence issue that’s provoked the most popular interest. From boosters to skeptics, it seems like pretty much everybody is fascinated by all things AI right now. Investors are fascinated. Congress is fascinated. And as readers of this newsletter know, I am fascinated, too.
Marco Vito Oddo of Collider explains the Guild’s position:
According to the WGA proposal, AI-generated scripts couldn’t be considered “source material” or “literary material.” These are fundamental terms in any WGA agreement, as “literary material” encompasses anything a writer produces, including stories, treatments, screenplays, and dialogue. Likewise, “source material” refers to previously existing material, such as books and magazines, that can be adapted into screenplays. So, if artificial intelligence cannot produce either, studios still need a human writer to credit, regardless of how much the human writer polished the script created by an AI tool.
The goal is, essentially, to prevent studios from using ChatGPT or other large language models to churn out first drafts, handing the results over to human writers to revise, and paying those writers less than they would for original scripts. As someone who nearly went on strike myself earlier this year, I support the WGA here. With rare exceptions, this Bernie voter will pretty much always side with the union, and there’s something especially depressing about the goal of pushing humans out of art for the sake of the efficient extraction of profit.
Personally, though, I think I’m glad that the union didn’t aim for an outright ban on AI as part of the writing process. I’ve written before about how freaked out I am by the pace of development here, not least because a chunk of my income derives from arranging words in a pleasing order and the rest comes from grading students on how well they do the same. Regulation is an absolute necessity here, and it’s a good idea to throw some speed bumps in front of this thing so we all can take a minute to catch our breath and adjust.
These tools are here, though. I’ve seen critics argue that talk of AI’s inevitability serves the interests of the corporations funding it. This is obviously true, but it’s also not evidence against the prediction that ChatGPT and products like it are about to change society in important ways. In fact, the reality that the most powerful actors in American public life have a vested interest in promoting this self-evidently useful technology is all the more reason to think it’ll have far reaching effects. For better and for worse, AI is about to change the way we relate to language. A refusal to engage won’t change that, and may even box writers out of the conversation on how to make sure these tools serve us rather than the other way around.
It seemed worthwhile, then, to see where we’re at in terms of AI-written scripts. To that end, I spent yesterday afternoon making a kind of 21st-century exquisite corpse with ChatGPT-4, the most advanced model OpenAI has released to the public. The idea was to have ChatGPT write a five-scene screenplay with each scene in the voice of a different writer and/or filmmaker. To keep things relevant, the story is set in a future where human screenwriters have been replaced by artificial intelligence. While I did have the chatbot rewrite two scenes (marked below), the text is otherwise unedited. If you’re interested, my commentary’s in the footnotes.
As you’ll see, the results don’t hold up well when compared to professional human screenwriters. That said, ChatGPT wouldn’t be the least talented kid in an undergrad screenwriting workshop. This technology is likely to improve quickly, though, and as Alissa Wilkinson of Vox points out, it doesn’t have to match the skill of flesh-and-blood writers to upend their livelihood:
Maybe it’s my philosophical commitments, but I don’t expect the tools to ever turn out something as good as what a real human writer can achieve. I don’t think AI is going to be able to write Everything Everywhere All at Once, or Tar, or Succession. At best, it will be an okay imitation of things that humans have already written.
But here is the thing: Cheap imitations of good things are what power the entertainment industry. Audiences have shown themselves more than happy to gobble up the same dreck over and over, and get big mad when presented with something confusing or challenging.
Studios are fine with declining quality as long as it means declining costs, and if audiences haven’t rebelled against hackneyed writing at this point, there’s little reason to think they’ll do so just because it was produced by AI. But regardless of where this headed, let’s see what kind of cheap imitations of good things ChatGPT is currently up to writing…
Scene #1: Nora Ephron
Prompt: Write the first scene of a romantic comedy in the style of Nora Ephron. It should take place in a world where AI chatbots have replaced human screenwriters.
INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY
In a hipster coffee shop, we see RUBY (mid 30s, quirky, passionate, a real romantic with a hopeless addiction to caffeine and vintage records), typing away furiously on her laptop. She sips a massive mug of steaming coffee.
COUNTER
Behind the counter is JAMES (late 30s, practical, grounded, with a hidden soft spot for sappy romcoms). He watches Ruby with a warm, almost affectionate smile.
James' coworker, MIKE (25, overconfident, believes he's the next Elon Musk1), leans over to him, shaking his head in disbelief.
MIKE
She's at it again, huh?
JAMES
Let her be, Mike. She's not hurting anyone.
Mike rolls his eyes, wiping down the counter.
MIKE
I just don't get it. Why write scripts when AIs do it better?
JAMES
Because sometimes it's not about doing it better. It's about doing it yourself.
RUBY'S TABLE
Ruby, oblivious to their discussion, is stuck. She crumples another page from her notepad,2 adding it to a growing pile of rejected ideas.
Suddenly, Ruby's laptop dings with a notification. It's an email from a major studio.
Her eyes scan the message, and her face falls. She slumps in her chair, defeated. The email reads: "Thank you for your submission. However, we've decided to go in a different direction..."
At the counter, James notices Ruby's dismay. He glances at Mike.
JAMES
I'm taking my break.
EXT.3 COFFEE SHOP - DAY
James approaches Ruby's table with two fresh cups of coffee. He takes a seat across from her, placing one cup in front of her.
RUBY
I didn't order this.
JAMES
Consider it on the house. You look like you could use it.
Ruby gives him a weak smile, appreciating the gesture. He nods towards her laptop.
JAMES
Another rejection?
RUBY
They said they're "going with an AI submission." Again.
JAMES
You're a better writer than any AI.
Ruby chuckles, shaking her head.
RUBY
Well, the studios don't seem to agree.
James leans forward, meeting her eyes.
JAMES
Just because it's easier to let a machine do the work, doesn't mean it's better. Don't forget, you have something they don't.
Ruby raises an eyebrow.
RUBY
Oh? And what's that?
JAMES
Heart.4
She laughs, the first genuine laugh she's had all day. James grins back at her, and for a moment, they forget about the world around them.
FADE OUT.
Scene #2: Quentin Tarantino
My first attempt on this one led to a scene that was more about characters discussing Tarantino’s films than acting like they were in one, so the text below was a second draft where I gave ChatGPT more specific instructions based on what I thought were the most salient characteristics of QT’s work.
Prompt: Okay, I don't like the scene you wrote. Rewrite it in a way that moves the plot forward and addresses the competition between human screenwriters and AI chatbots. But it should be done in an exaggerated version of the style of Quentin Tarantino. The dialogue should be in his voice, and the plot should include Tarantino-style violence.
INT. COFFEE SHOP - NIGHT
The coffee shop has transformed. The cozy ambiance has been replaced with an eerie neon glow, reflected in the polished steel of the espresso machine. A new-age jazz ensemble plays an offbeat rhythm in the corner.
Ruby and James, on opposite sides of the counter, are locked in a tense, animated debate, while Mike, visibly nervous, observes from the edge.5
RUBY
So, you're telling me you'd sell your soul, our humanity, to some machine?!
James coolly wipes down the counter, his eyes never leaving Ruby's.
JAMES
Now, Ruby, it ain't about selling souls. It's about evolution, about survival.
Ruby slams her hand on the counter, her eyes blazing.
RUBY
It's about art, James! Art ain't about survival, it's about living, breathing, feeling!6
Suddenly, the door swings open. A WOMAN (40s, icy blonde, wearing a black leather suit) walks in. She carries an oddly-shaped case, her heels clicking ominously against the floor.
The room goes silent.
She strolls to the counter, placing her case on it. James opens it cautiously, revealing an AI device, sleek and eerily beautiful. It pulses softly with an inner light.
WOMAN
Latest screenplay machine. Thousand plots per minute, no sleep, no complaints.
James touches the machine, almost in awe. Ruby looks horrified.
RUBY
This... this thing replaces me?!
The woman smiles, icy cold.
WOMAN
Honey, this thing replaces all of us.
Suddenly, Ruby lunges across the counter, grabbing the AI device. She lifts it above her head, ready to smash it to the floor.
RUBY
Over my dead body!
The woman pulls out a GUN, aiming at Ruby.
WOMAN
That can be arranged.
James steps between them, hands raised.
JAMES
Ladies, let's not turn this into a Tarantino scene.7
He turns to the woman.
JAMES
We won't be needing your services, ma'am.
The woman huffs, putting her gun away and snatching the AI back into its case. She walks out, leaving the room in stunned silence.
James turns to Ruby, his gaze intense.
JAMES
Guess we gotta prove 'em wrong, huh, Ruby?
Ruby nods, her determination reignited.
FADE OUT.
Scene #3: David Lynch
Prompt: Write the next scene in the screenplay. It should move the plot forward and address the competition between human screenwriters and AI chatbots. But it should be done in an exaggerated version of the darkly surreal style of David Lynch. Rather than realistic causality, the scene operates in a kind of dream logic.
INT. COFFEE SHOP - LATE NIGHT
The lights in the coffee shop have dimmed. The stark neon lights from the city outside cast long, eerie shadows on the worn-out furniture.
James is hunched over the counter, tinkering with an old typewriter, the clicking of keys echoing in the silence. Ruby, in a retro velvet chair, is surrounded by crumpled pieces of paper, a haunted look in her eyes.
The atmosphere is dense with uncertainty, the line between reality and illusion blurred, like in a dream or a nightmare.
Suddenly, the RADIO behind the counter crackles to life, emitting a deep, synthetic VOICE, monotone and void of any human inflection.
RADIO VOICE
The future is here. Human screenwriters obsolete. The dawn of AI storytelling begins.
Ruby flinches, her hand trembling. James slams his fist against the radio, and it goes silent.
Just then, the door creaks open, and an AI (a humanoid shape, mechanical yet fluid, faceless, with a soft inner glow) glides in, holding a script titled "THE PERFECT PLOT."
The AI places the script on the counter. It has a surreal aura, making the air around it shimmer like a mirage. It speaks in a mechanical tone.
AI
Read. Experience perfection.
James and Ruby exchange a glance. James, with a defiant look in his eyes, picks up the script, flipping through the pages.
Suddenly, he winces, as if in pain. The script falls from his hands. His expressions mirror horror, sadness, joy, fear - a whirlwind of emotions, faster and more intense than any human could naturally experience.
The AI remains still, impassive.
AI
Perfection achieved.
Ruby, horrified, pulls James back. She grabs the script, hurling it at the AI.
RUBY
Your perfection is our annihilation!8
The script hits the AI, causing it to flicker and distort. It makes a low whirring sound, then slowly fades away, leaving only the script behind.
Ruby goes to James, holding him. He's trembling, overwhelmed by the raw emotions the script induced.
RUBY
We won't let them win, James. We're going to fight this.
James, recovering, nods. He takes a deep breath, his determination returning.
JAMES
With our words, Ruby. We fight with our words.
FADE OUT.
Scene #4: Aaron Sorkin
Prompt: Write the next scene in the screenplay. It should move the plot forward and address the competition between human screenwriters and AI chatbots. But it should be done in an exaggerated version of the rapid-fire wit of Aaron Sorkin. The dialogue should contain intellectual banter and demonstrate an encyclopedic knowledge of politics, literature, and history.
INT. COFFEE SHOP - MORNING
The coffee shop is buzzing with activity, contrasting the surreal quiet of last night. James and Ruby are at a corner table, surrounded by mountains of scripts and books.
Ruby's fingers fly across the keyboard of her laptop while James flips through a hefty tome titled "The Rise and Fall of AI." They talk with a rhythm and pace that’s exhilarating.
RUBY
The Luddites in the 19th century fought against mechanized looms. We're fighting against mechanized minds.
JAMES
Luddites lost, Ruby.9
RUBY
Only because they didn't adapt. We can learn from history, can't we?
James grins, impressed by her tenacity.
JAMES
Spoken like a true Churchill. "Those who fail to learn from history are condemned to repeat it."
Ruby laughs, barely pausing in her typing.
RUBY
Winston also said, "The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter." The same can be said about studios choosing AI over us.
James raises his coffee mug in salute.
JAMES
Touche, Ruby. But remember, it's not just about studios, it's the audience. We have to prove that human stories still matter.
RUBY
We will. We will make them feel every emotion in the spectrum, every triumph, every heartbreak.
James leans back, watching her type.
JAMES
You know, Dickens used to serialize his novels. Kept the audience waiting, baited breath and all.
RUBY
Not a bad idea, James. Keep them on the edge, craving more.
She grins, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
RUBY
After all, who needs an AI when you've got human imagination and a cliffhanger?
They both laugh, their shared determination igniting a new spark of hope.
FADE OUT.
Scene #5: Alfred Hitchcock
As with the Tarantino scene, this ChatGPT’s second draft. The first version ended on a victorious note that felt more Mighty Ducks than The Birds.
Prompt: Okay, I don't like the scene you wrote. Rewrite it. It should move the plot forward and address the competition between human screenwriters and AI chatbots. But it should be done in an exaggerated version of the tense and suspenseful style of Alfred Hitchcock. The plotting should be meticulous, and the story should come to a satisfying if shocking conclusion in the Hitchcockian style. The ending should not be triumphant.
INT. MOVIE STUDIO - NIGHT
The studio is draped in an eerie calm. Outside, the city sleeps, and the only sound is the low hum of the studio's machinery.
Ruby and James are standing before a LARGE SCREEN, on which the final scene of their collaborative script - an intricate marriage of human soul and AI precision - is playing out. It's a suspenseful climax that has the studio AUDIENCE at the edge of their seats.
Among the audience, the studio HEAD, a formidable figure, watches with a scrutinizing gaze.
Suddenly, the film cuts to black. The room plunges into darkness, the silence punctuated only by the sound of anxious breaths. Then, the lights flicker back on, revealing an AI holding a NEW SCRIPT titled "The Human Element."
AI
For your consideration.
The studio Head takes the script, his eyes darting over the pages. His expression remains inscrutable. Ruby and James exchange a glance, an undercurrent of dread creeping in.
As the Head finishes reading, he leans back, his face shrouded in shadow. The room is a coil of tension, every gaze fixed on him.
HEAD
This... is unexpected.
His voice echoes in the silence. He looks up, his gaze resting on Ruby and James.
HEAD
The AI... it’s written a script about a pair of human screenwriters battling AI screenwriters. And the humans... they lose.10
Shock ripples through the room. Ruby and James stand frozen, their victory snatched away. The AI remains motionless, its inner light pulsating like a steady heartbeat.
HEAD
The story... it's tragic, heart-wrenching. It's... human.
The irony isn't lost on anyone. An AI has outdone them at their own game, crafting a narrative filled with the very human touch they thought it lacked.
FADE OUT:
EXT. MOVIE STUDIO - NIGHT
Ruby and James exit the studio, their faces pale under the harsh neon lights. They've lost the battle, but the war isn't over.
FADE OUT.
TO BE CONTINUED...
THE END.
Odds & Ends
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Uggghhh why can’t we ever escape this guy???
Is she writing on a laptop and a notepad at the same time?
Suddenly, Ruby’s table has moved outside of the coffee shop.
Jfc.
And with that, Mike disappears from the narrative entirely.
Do Tarantino’s characters really say “ain’t” this much?
Okay, I loled.
🤘
Swap in “Donna” for “Ruby” and this is a pretty solid impression of Josh Lyman.
Is ChatGPT implying that Jack and Ruby are actually characters in “The Human Element”? I was genuinely surprised that it took this already self-referential story to another level of meta.