Filmmaking is no stranger to budget battles, but the conversation turned unusually sharp this week when Kevin O’Leary, business mogul and new co-star in A24’s buzzy upcoming release “Marty Supreme,” publicly stated the studio should have used AI-generated background actors instead of human extras.
O’Leary’s argument, delivered during a press push for the ping-pong-driven comedy, centers on hard dollars: scenes packed with spectators required nearly 150 human performers, each incurring wages, meals, and overtime across exhausting 18-hour shoots.
His math is simple: swap those bodies for digital avatars, and producers might slash millions from a reported $70–90 million budget on crowd scenes alone.
O’Leary referenced Tilly Norwood, an AI-created “actor” developed by tech startup Xicoia and designed to simulate on-camera presence at any age, appearance, or activity.
Though Tilly Norwood herself isn’t in “Marty Supreme,” the concept she represents, digital characters indistinguishable from real extras, has become a flashpoint in Hollywood’s long-simmering debate about technology versus tradition.
The Shark Tank personality insists audiences will never notice, suggesting these digital substitutes are ideal for scenes where background actors are only required to look the part, not perform dramatic feats.
A24, known for championing artistic independence and unconventional storytelling, faces a particularly pointed question in light of this controversy: Is replacing even non-speaking extras with AI avatars a harmless cost-cutting trick or a threat to the spirit of independent cinema?
Artists Versus Algorithms: Backlash, Labor, and Industry Ethics
It didn’t take long for O’Leary’s stance to ignite a firestorm. Many actors, especially those working as extras, pushed back on social media and industry sites, accusing him and other AI advocates of trivializing real jobs.
SAG-AFTRA, the union representing Hollywood performers, quickly condemned the use of AI extras, citing Tilly Norwood as a dangerous precedent that “jeopardizes performer livelihoods and devalues human artistry.”
Their September statement echoes broader fears that artificial intelligence isn’t just a new tool for filmmakers but a potential engine for widespread job loss within the creative class.
For aspiring actors, being an extra is often the first step toward building experience, networking, and union eligibility. Even one day on set can mean the difference between paying bills and going broke.
Industry veterans warn that rapidly swapping in digital extras, especially before clear legal protections are in place, could slam the door on these entry-level opportunities.
Kevin O’Leary (Credit: NBC)
Beyond practical concerns, there’s a philosophical aspect to artists’ resistance. Background actors help give movies authenticity, reacting to chaos, ad-libbing when things go awry, and occasionally turning an unscripted moment into movie magic.
Some directors worry that losing this human element would flatten the texture of big-screen storytelling, especially in genres like comedy or sports dramas, where audience reactions need to feel spontaneous, not procedurally rendered.
The Tilly Norwood situation underscores how quickly AI tech has outpaced the industry’s ability to regulate it. As reported last month, more than one talent agency sought to “represent” Norwood, prompting the union’s sharp rebuke and sparking debate over the very definition of a movie actor in the digital age.
The question is stark: what happens when a market rewards studios for making films with fewer people involved?
A24, Innovation, and the Future of Background Acting
Others, echoing O’Leary’s efficiency argument, suggest the indie studio is simply adapting to a rapidly evolving business, one where budgets, ticket sales, and streaming deals are under new pressure.
The mixed reception to “Marty Supreme’s” making-of story highlights the heightened sensitivity after the 2023-2024 SAG-AFTRA and WGA strikes, which centered largely on pay, protections, and AI’s place in the entertainment industry.
Unions made transparency over digital likenesses and job displacement a core issue, and A24 was widely seen as a pro-labor studio during those disputes. The company’s next moves, especially in how it communicates the role of AI in future productions, will likely influence how it’s regarded by performers and audiences alike.
For now, “Marty Supreme” is set for a major theatrical release, starring Timothée Chalamet and Gwyneth Paltrow, and is already stirring conversation before opening night.
O’Leary’s proposal that the film might have been made for half as much and still looked just as good will remain fodder for debate as filmmakers, extras, and moviegoers consider what they value most: savings on the spreadsheet or the subtle magic of real people populating imaginary worlds.
In Deliver Me From Nowhere, Jeremy Allen White’s portrayal of Bruce Springsteen is marked by a near-permanent wall of stoicism and solitude, reflecting the Boss’s emotional battles during his Nebraska period. For most of the film, White’s Springsteen keeps his feelings hidden, weighed down by creative struggles and family trauma.
It’s only when the character encounters Haley, a young girl with no agenda or expectations, that something shifts.
Jeremy Allen White explained in interviews that this single moment, sparked by a child’s greeting, brings the first genuine smile from Springsteen’s character.
This choice was built into the screenplay as a pivotal, understated turning point, one that director Scott Cooper wanted to arrive quietly, reflecting real life rather than melodrama. Rather than being triggered by fame, artistic success, or romance, the moment comes from innocence meeting guarded vulnerability.
For Springsteen, who has battled his own history of depression and emotional distance, the smile’s arrival signals the possibility of a rare moment of hope forged not by overcoming adversity but by being open to small, unexpected kindness.
This approach also honors Springsteen’s reputation for observing the beauty and pain of working-class existence, highlighting how genuine connection, however fleeting, can break through deep emotional barriers.
Family Shadows and Breaking Through: The Source of True Change
The tension driving Deliver Me From Nowhere is built from Springsteen’s family history, particularly his relationship with his father, Doug. The film details moments of pain and doubt, including violent outbursts and emotional cycles that left lasting marks on Springsteen.
This emotional backdrop is key to understanding why the smile matters; it’s not simply a sign of recovery but evidence of resilience within a man scarred by intergenerational trauma.
The movie explores a flashback, rooted in truth, when a young Springsteen steps between his mother and father, setting the tone for a life spent on guard against further emotional injury.
Jeremy Allen White’s physical choices tense shoulders and hesitant speech reaffirm this, but the film also shows how new personal connections with children and old friends begin to offer a lifeline.
Jeremy Allen White (Credit: NBC)
The narrative, supported by critical and biographical sources, links Springsteen’s slow journey toward joy with the idea that healing happens in fits and starts and often emerges from moments that don’t announce themselves as climaxes.
The emotional authenticity of this story resonated with the real Springsteen, who reportedly consulted closely on White’s performance and approved of many creative choices.
Scenes based on his autobiography and interviews reinforced the film’s commitment to truth, letting viewers feel the messy reality behind the Boss’s music, public persona, and private life.
Jeremy Allen White’s Approach: Subtlety Wins the Day
Jeremy Allen White’s acting process emphasized not only classic preparation, vocal training, and guitar lessons but also psychological fidelity to Springsteen’s cautious, inward nature. Instead of chasing grand gestures, White insisted on small adjustments in posture, voice, and timing to render the character honestly.
Critics praised this approach, noting how the first smile reads as a personal victory, not a performance trick.
The production team collaborated with Bruce Springsteen himself to confirm story beats and emotional tone. White said that receiving praise for embodying the boss’s complex persona was one of the project’s most rewarding experiences.
Journalists and viewers have pointed out that this rare, authentic smile feels true to Springsteen’s difficult youth and hard-earned peace, showing that even artists who sing of pain can find hope, if only for a moment.
Deliver Me From Nowhere’s power is anchored less in spectacle than in moments of quiet revelation. The boss’s smile matters because it is hard-won, a sign of openness after years spent behind self-built walls.
Audiences and critics alike have celebrated how the film honors every part of Springsteen’s story: the darkness, the music, and, ultimately, the possibility of joy.
