The creative contract
AI should not be treated as a creator or a companion, but as a tool—one that supports, clarifies, and strengthens the filmmaker’s creative process. To use it effectively and ethically, creators must establish a well-defined creative contract: an agreement that outlines where AI can assist, and where its role must end.
For example, a filmmaker might decide that AI can support research, pitching and langauge polishing, but it shouldn’t be used to generate core concepts, produce final creative materials or write dialogue.
Another creative contract can be one that acknowledges that AI can be a powerful asset in post-production—accelerating workflows, automating repetitive tasks, and enhancing technical polish. However, it should not be allowed to create final design elements, conceptual frameworks, or finished assets that define the artistic identity of the work.
AI may also assist with visual thinking—creating preliminary storyboards, aiding in conceptual design, or demoing sequences before filming. But even here, its use should align with the creative contract: clearly defined boundaries, understood by the creator and respected by the team.
This contract isn’t just an internal compass. It should be agreed upon by the key creatives and communicated openly to the production team. As projects evolve, it’s important to revisit and reaffirm this agreement, especially when tempting shortcuts or AI-enabled efficiencies threaten to displace human imagination. These are the moments where discipline is most needed.
Importantly, the creative contract isn't about limiting innovation. It’s about protecting human authorship—reassuring yourself and your collaborators that it is your vision, instincts, and experiences that shape the final work. When human input fades into the background, what may remain is a polished product, but one built on sand—a beautiful shell without substance. That is not only an artistic loss, but a broader tragedy for the medium itself.
Audiences sense this, too. In an era where public concern about AI's role in art is growing, viewers want to believe they’re engaging with stories shaped by human hands and hearts. The idea that films could one day be “pushed out with a button” can create distrust, even rejection. Transparency about AI’s role helps build trust. When the audience understands where and how AI was used—and where it wasn’t—they are more willing to accept its place in the creative process.
This openness is essential. Some audiences may remain skeptical, and some artists will resist these tools entirely. But for post-production-heavy or technologically ambitious films, AI will increasingly be part of the landscape. As new tools flood the market, both filmmakers and audiences will need a moral compass to navigate the stormy waters of transition—until a new normal emerges.
And that compass, more than anything, must be human.