Category: Intellectual Property

On the Use of AI Likeness in Motion Pictures

In my book, published in 2020, I speculated about a biopic made with an AI-generated likeness of Carrie Fisher; and this week, Variety reports that a motion picture about Edith Piaf is now in development that will use AI-generated likenesses of the famed torch singer. So, now that the hypothetical is reality, what are the considerations beyond the obvious loss of job opportunities for performers to play these roles?

One possibility, of course, is that audiences won’t respond well to this approach to biopic. Part of the appeal of the genre is watching a skilled actor play an important, beloved, or even detested figure. I can only speculate about what would be lost if, for instance, the motion picture Ray did not feature Jamie Foxx becoming Mr. Charles, but my instinct is that the overall experience for the viewer would be diluted. This is not to say that new forms of expression will not emerge from experimenting with AI likenesses (e.g., CGI already features in reenactment sequences for documentary projects), but these are aesthetic and market considerations. What about the ethical or legal questions?

Mostly Not a Copyright Matter

To begin, the right to dramatize a real person’s story in a motion picture is not necessarily a copyright matter. Copyright applies if, for instance, biographical material has already been written (or otherwise recorded) because copyright only attaches to a work fixed in a tangible medium of expression. So, if a film is based substantially on a single biographical book about Edith Piaf, then the film is arguably a “derivative work” of the book, and the book’s author reserves the right to allow production of the film. That said, facts are not protected by copyright law (i.e., many authors can write biographies about the same figure), and a biopic can be produced based on an original screenplay encompassing the writers’ own research into the subject.

Rights of Publicity

I mention all that to distinguish copyright rights from what are often referred to as “life rights,” a broad, industry term that is often viewed as adjacent to state law rights of publicity (ROP). Importantly, though, ROP entails use of a likeness, which does not cover use of biographical information for the purpose of portraying a real person as a character. While it is often wise (and courteous) to obtain permission to use part or all of someone’s story in a motion picture, individuals do not have absolute control over such portrayals, especially if they are public figures and the depictions are based on an available record. If the law held otherwise, the Trump family could, for instance, exert control over all dramatizations of The Donald, and any future biopics would basically be remakes of The Greatest Story Ever Told.

Of course, there are certain limits. Although the bar for defamation or libel can be high, a motion picture portrayal of a real person can trigger a valid claim of this nature, and it is interesting to ask whether these considerations may be different when the producer uses an AI-generated likeness to perform a potentially damaging scene. Biopics often interpolate the narrative by producing scenes or dialogue that are plausible but not necessarily factual. In this context, then, might the additional step toward “reality” with the use of an AI-generated likeness of the subject alter the burden on the producer to adhere more faithfully to the record?

ROP laws vary state-by-state, and are statutory in half the states, but nowhere do they apply to an expressive use of a likeness in contrast to a commercial advertising use. You might have read that Scarlett Johansson is suing app developer Lisa AI for use of her generated likeness in a social media ad posted on X. Variety describes the facts thus:

The ad, reviewed by Variety, begins with an old clip of Johansson behind the scenes of Marvel’s “Black Widow.” Johansson says, “What’s up guys? It’s Scarlett and I want you to come with me…” before a graphic covers her mouth and the screen transitions into AI-generated photos that resemble the actor. A fake voice imitating Johansson then continues speaking, promoting the AI app. “It’s not limited to avatars only. You can also create images with texts and even your AI videos. I think you shouldn’t miss it,” says a voice that sounds like Johansson.

Based on that description, this sounds like a textbook violation of Johansson’s ROP, using her likeness for the purpose of advertising, and there could also be a violation of Disney’s copyright for use of the Black Widow clip. This is not the first story of its kind to emerge concurrent with recent advances in AI, and I believe that companies using celebrity likenesses in this way should face damage awards and injunctions sufficient to achieve deterrence. If Johansson et al. do not seek punitive outcomes in these cases, then the violation and litigation can become promotional opportunities for the infringing companies—a strategy right out of the Silicon Valley playbook:  infringe now, apologize(ish) later, and reap the publicity benefits of the violation.

Likeness as Individual vs. Likeness as Performer

Because Johansson is a real person and an actress, it’s important to distinguish between her AI-generated likeness as herself and her AI-generated likeness as a character in a motion picture. As mentioned, ROP is neither federal law nor (as it stands) applicable to the use of Johansson’s likeness 30 years from now in a biopic about her. Regarding her likeness as a performer, the SAG-AFTRA agreement with the producers appears to strike a balance for now—namely that filmmakers retain some latitude for the use of generative AI replicas, but they cannot willfully “cast” performers in motion pictures by means of AI replication without permission or compensation. We shall see how things play out for lesser-known and background performers going forward, but for the time being, we won’t see Johansson’s AI avatar playing any roles without her permission.

And that brings us back to projects like the Piaf biopic. While there is no legal barrier, at least in U.S. law, to prohibit the use of AI likenesses of real people for expressive purposes, a film like the Piaf project implies a challenge for the future negotiating power of performers, if audiences demonstrate that they enjoy motion pictures without flesh-and-blood actors. This is, of course, the anxious question on the mind of every performing and creative artist since the explosion of AI over the last couple of years. Will the machines replace us all? Will the motion picture industry, for instance, be reduced to a few hundred computer programmers, ten executives, and a couple of social media gurus?

I tend to doubt that such bleak outcomes are likely. Even without new legal frameworks, I expect some of the frenzy over certain creative uses of AI will settle down as producers discover ways to enhance, rather than overwrite, the fundamental magic that makes an expressive work like a motion picture engaging for viewers. That may be wishful thinking, of course. I suppose it’s possible that the future will comprise a world of AI performers with artificial biographies, which will then be dramatized by subsequent generations of AI performers. At that point, though, I imagine the “audience” will also be AIs that “woke up” and wiped us all out. So, it won’t be our problem.

Photo by: Artyme83

With AI, Big Tech is No Longer Pretending to Care

As reported by Insider last week, the Andreessen Horowitz VC firm a16z, complains that potential copyright liability for AI developers could harm the interest of their investors. “Imposing the cost of actual or potential copyright liability on the creators of AI models will either kill or significantly hamper their development,” they state, as quoted by Kali Hays. Sympathy for the billionaires was not forthcoming, as my friend Neil Turkewitz can attest based on the responses to his tweet on the topic…

More about the VCs’ comments below, but against this backdrop of millions of creators laughing at the raw hubris of Andreessen et al., it is worth watching how, or whether, the AI developers address the matter of indemnifying customers against potential liability for copyright infringement claims arising from use of their systems. Writing for TechCrunch, Kyle Wiggers observes that as these companies respond to investor pressure to attract enterprise customers, copyright infringement indemnity may become common. For now, the landscape reads like a patchwork of promises with a sub-patchwork of disclaimers and conditions.

Adobe, IBM, and Microsoft have made the strongest assurances that they will commit resources to defend customers against copyright infringement claims; other prominent AI models like Stability AI, Midjourney have not yet adopted any such provisions; and Wiggers states that “Google offers some defense for customers against third-party allegations of IP infringement arising from its text- and image-generating models.” In practice, of course, the only real test to determine whether these clauses are meaningful (rather than just PR) is for a rightsholder to file a suit and see what happens.  And that gets to the question of which parties are being protected, and why.

In 2015, Google announced it would pay legal fees for YouTubers whose videos were wrongly removed from the platform via the DMCA notice-and-takedown provision. In fact, Google did not mean all YouTubers but a few selected video creators, and I do not believe Google ever had to put its money where its mouth was (not that anything they pledged counted as “money” in their world).* Although indemnity clauses in Terms of Service are a different animal, there is a familiar ring this time in the AI developers’ limitations and restrictions—for instance to only indemnify enterprise customers.

The trend strikes me as maddening. First the AI developer “trains” its model by feeding it millions of creative works, all used without permission from the rightsholders. Next, the AI developer hopes to sell its system to enterprise users—businesses that will, in theory, no longer need to hire the same professional creators whose works were rustled to develop the AI. And finally, the AI developer will protect said business user against potential infringement claims by that same class of professional creators (at least until there are no more creators left). Maybe this isn’t quite how things will go, but in principle, it looks a lot like looting a neighborhood and then erecting legal barriers to prevent the residents from remedying the theft.

And that brings me back to Andreessen Horowitz, and the gall it takes to so frankly dismiss the rights of all creators as an inconvenient barrier to VC wealth. In its comments to the Copyright Office, a16z recited Psalm 1 from the Book of Tech-Bro, demanding our blind faith that what’s good for the tech sector is always good for the country. “[Investor] expectations have been a critical factor in the enormous investment of private capital into US-based AI companies. Undermining those expectations will jeopardize future investment, along with U.S. economic competitiveness and national security.”

After recovering from the spit take at manifesto-writing capitalists seeking federal protection for their private equity investments, the only sensible reply to the overstated reference to national security is BULLSHIT. If the future of U.S. national security depends on developing a for-profit generative AI to make music or paint pictures, we’re screwed. Fortunately, this is not the case. Defense Department AI strategy (good, bad, or otherwise) will proceed independent of AI’s role in creative works of expression. Accordingly, it is both revealing and ridiculous that Andreesen Horowitz would even mention national security in comments to the Copyright Office.

Notably, the quote above appears under a subhead asserting that using protected materials for machine learning is fair use. The paragraphs that follow cite no authority to support a fair use argument and, in fact, undermine that defense by coming very close to asserting that there is no basis for a claim of infringement. If non-infringement is the argument, then fair use should not be raised, and a16z’s failure to articulate a strong position in either direction leads one to reasonably conclude that their only argument is financial self-interest. Last I checked, the free market doesn’t guarantee success, and if your business model is based on a potentially liability, that’s a problem with the model—i.e., a you problem.

With so many billions invested in generative AI, Big Tech’s longstanding clash with copyright law has finally pivoted from a lie about building new opportunities for individual creators to the unblushing truth that it views creators as obsolete relics dragging against their deterministic vision of the future. “Today, companies are aiming to remove artists and writers from the loop entirely — it turns out, even free labor was too expensive,” writes Eryk Salvaggio in a must-read essay. And if that’s how AI investors feel about human beings in the creative arts, we should question their investments in everything.

*UPDATE: Per comment by Neil Turkewitz, Google filed one suit in 2019 against one alleged abuser of the DMCA.

Where Are All the Trolls at the CCB?

A lot of world-shaking events have occurred since 2018, when the CASE Act was introduced for the purpose of creating a small-claim copyright alternative, now known as the Copyright Claims Board (CCB). After a pandemic, an attempted coup d’ etat, and other jaw-dropping moments, it’s easy to forget all the ululating noise produced by the Electronic Frontier Foundation, Fight for the Future, Public Knowledge, Mike Masnick, the Niskanen Center, Sen. Wyden, and Computer & Communications Industry of America, et al. to warn the public about the perils of the CCB. The loudest talking point in that cacophony was the unfounded prediction that the small-claim tribunal would be an ideal forum for copyright trolls. For example…

“The CASE Act would give copyright trolls a faster, cheaper way of coercing Internet users to fork over cash “settlements,” bypassing the safeguards against abuse that federal judges have labored to create.”  – EFF, April 2018 –

A “copyright troll” is an attorney who consistently files questionable or unmeritorious claims with the intent to extract settlements from alleged copyright infringers. In response to predictions that the CCB would be a perfect venue for trolling, I and others responded by highlighting the many safeguards in the CASE legislation that were written specifically to anticipate and prevent abuse of the tribunal. In fact, that EFF quote above was a double lie because safeguards against abusive or unmeritorious claims do not easily prevent trolling in federal court, which is why trolling happens in those venues, although not nearly so often as the anti-copyright hecklers like to claim.

CCB Safeguards Triggered for the First Time

As Jonathan Bailey describes in a recent post on his blog Plagiarism Today, the CCB has, for the first time, invoked its authority to bar an attorney from filing small claims for one year. To be clear, based on Bailey’s description, the attorney in question does not deserve the description “troll,” let alone the kind of predatory actor copyright hecklers refer to when they use that term.

Instead, this attorney triggered the safeguard provisions by filing several unmeritorious claims against Amazon, which was improperly named, and foreign resellers, which cannot be named in CCB claims. As Bailey notes, the effort is understandable because, “Many creators have complained that marketplaces like Amazon, Wish, Temu and so forth have become havens for infringement.”

My point here is not to comment upon or critique this one attorney’s intentions or errors, but to emphasize that the sanctions he activated at the CCB are the same safeguards written to prevent copyright trolls from even using the tribunal, let alone abusing it. As noted in this post, the CCB is a cost-prohibitive venue for the would-be troll due to the limited number of claims that may be filed in a single year, the potential fines for intentional abuse, and the possibility of being barred from the CCB for a year.

During the roughly two years between introduction and passage of the CASE Act, a typical response to the statutory safeguards was, “Well, we can’t trust the Copyright Office.” This familiar, dimwitted tactic is indistinguishable from those who say “We can’t trust the DOJ” in response to meritorious indictments against the former president. Meanwhile, the CCB, in demonstrating that it will enforce safeguards as the law requires belies all those scary headlines predicting that sharing memes on social media would result in a tidal wave of $30,000 fines.

The anti-CASE messaging has since evaporated into the digital ether, of course, but at moments like this, I think it’s fair to say that every time these same hecklers predict anything about copyright law, they should be ignored. I don’t mean that their views should be heavily scrutinized. I mean ignored. They lie about basic facts. They use fearmongering as a primary tactic. They claim to represent interests they do not represent. And they battle chimeras to stay relevant and raise funds. On that last point, expect to see the EFF look for an opportunity to litigate the constitutionality of the CCB—an effort that will likely fail but, as I say, will make good material to promote with a “Donate Now” button.