Why Acting Is One Thing AI Should Never Replace

A sacred creative space worth protecting

It’s Thursday morning in a small theatre somewhere in Hollywood. I am clucking. Loudly. Clucking, running, arms flapping, climbing over tables like some over-caffeinated peacock. It is as ridiculous as it sounds. But I am fully in it.

Moments later, breathless and still slightly mortified, I start a scene. And somehow, from the flapping chaos of feathers and ego, something unexpected happens. Beneath the absurdity, nuggets of truth start to surface. Something raw, ridiculous, deeply human emerges.

This is why I, a director, take acting classes. Not because I harbor a secret dream of Oscar glory, but because, when I was brutally honest with myself, I realized that the thing that scared me most about filmmaking wasn’t complex camera rigs or impossible locations. It was actors.

Working with actors. Guiding them. Understanding them. Not breaking them. In an act of bravery and probably stupidity, I signed up for an acting class. I very nearly bailed 30 minutes before the first session, perched on my couch, watching a film. But I went. And it changed me. As a writer. As a director. As a collaborator.

Which brings me to the looming shadow of AI. I’m not an expert. I’ve dabbled with it on my own commercial projects, like most of us. I’ve seen how AI can supercharge the finding process. Concept art, visual treatments, writing, rapid iterations that would’ve taken weeks now happen in minutes. There’s something thrilling, even liberating, about that.

But there’s a line, and for me that line is actors. What I am learning through acting classes is that we should never attempt to replace acting through AI. Acting may be our last stronghold against the invasion of robots. Here, I believe, are the reasons why:

Process

AI can generate eerily realistic faces. It can mimic performances that feel nuanced, complex, even human. We are rapidly approaching a point where we might not always be able to tell the difference. But that’s missing the point. What cannot be replicated is process. The deeply human, often uncomfortable, sometimes healing alchemy that happens between actor and director. Between script and performer. That special spark among human beings searching for truth in a dark room.

Messiness

Storytelling is ancient. Long before cameras, before Hollywood, before clapper boards and contracts, human beings gathered in circles to share experiences. To reveal their flaws, their fears, their desires. To learn from each other. Acting is an extension of that. A mirror held up to our messiness. And, let’s be honest, it’s hard. Excruciatingly hard. To stand in front of a room, expose your rawest self, pour your discoveries into a character, only to be rejected 99 percent of the time, and then wake up and do it again.

Adversity

Actors’ willingness to suffer holds a mirror to the rest of us. It shows us what it means to be human. To feel. To fail. To hope. If we try to start outsourcing that to AI, we’re not just losing jobs. We’re losing discovery. We’re outsourcing empathy. Adversity is that special element that reaffirms acting is not just performance. It is something painful, vulnerable, uncomfortable and humbling, and frequently remarkable. And it’s irreplaceable.

Commercial directors are at the sharp end of this evolution. Our projects turn around fast. We have access to healthy budgets. We’re often the first to experiment with new technology. With that comes responsibility.

Yes, AI will transform our industry in exciting ways. Yes, there are places where human labor should, and probably will, be replaced by automation. But performance? The peacock clucking? The human mess?

That sacred space where actor and director stumble towards truth together? That, I believe, is worth protecting.