Tilly Norwood: symptom of a sick industry

Luca Fontana

13.3.2026

Translation: Patrik Stainbrook

Her existence triggers outrage, but AI actress Tilly Norwood isn’t the problem. She’s the end result. A mirror of Hollywood – and the image it reflects isn’t flattering whatsoever.

Tilly Norwood is standing on the shoulders of a giant: Lil Miquela. That AI character has been around since 2016, has over two million Instagram followers, was on the cover of i-D, has released songs, modelled in fashion campaigns – and she doesn’t even exist.

The world took a quick look, shook its head for a moment and then moved on.

Ten years later, Tilly Norwood stands on those shoulders. She too is computer-generated, has a biography, an Instagram account and a desire for fame. Just one difference: Tilly wants to be an actress.

And that has put Hollywood in a state of panic.

When Tilly Norwood made her debut at the Zurich Film Festival in September 2025 – dark hair, brown eyes, somewhere between familiar and too smooth – Toni Collette, Emily Blunt and Ryan Reynolds reacted as if someone had thrown a hand grenade onto the red carpet.

SAG-AFTRA, the powerful American actors’ union, however, left no room for ambiguity: «Tilly Norwood is not an actor, it’s a character generated by a computer program that was trained on the work of countless professional performers — without permission or compensation.»

Tilly Norwood’s creator, Dutch entrepreneur and former actress Eline van der Velden, was surprised by the vehement reactions. As she herself tells the Hollywood Reporter, she’d «followed the Lil Miquela playbook». The only problem Tilly has is looking too real.

Too real. That’s not just a minor detail. We arrived to a similar conclusion in the latest episode of A Tech Affair, our German-language podcast, starting around minute 28. But if you want to understand Tilly Norwood, you can’t start with her. You need to start with the industry into which she was born, one which has been eating itself for years: Hollywood.

A sick industry, a perfect offer

Hollywood is sick. Chronically ill, even. Production costs for big blockbusters have exploded in the last twenty years. At the same time, revenue is becoming more unpredictable: movie audiences are staying away, since a movie night for two with popcorn and a drink often costs more than a monthly subscription to Netflix. If you want to go to the movies, think twice. Or more.

In addition, the already short cinema window is shrinking (in German). In other words, the time during which a film is shown exclusively in cinemas before going into some streaming library. Cinemas are complaining. Studios are complaining. And so, to fill the coffers anyway, they rely on the most tried and tested things they know: sequels, prequels, superheroes and franchises.

A familiar IP’s all that matters. Mass appeal is everything.

The result: a film industry that spends more and more while taking ever fewer risks. And one that exploits people with the least power to resist. Special effects studios, for example, work under conditions that hardly anyone would describe as normal: the number of effects shots per film is increasing, while the time to create them is becoming increasingly scarce. Accordingly, effects were better in films ten years ago. Not only that: make-up, costume, sound, lighting, camera – almost all departments are under pressure.

This is the industry into which Tilly Norwood has been deployed. And not just randomly. She’s an offer you can’t refuse. After all, she’s supposed to make everything better. And cheaper.

«We don’t want to be replacing real actors» and other reassuring phrases

Van der Velden, Tilly Norwood’s Dutch creator, is a smooth talker. She speaks clearly, is ready for anything and says things that sound sensible.

As she puts it, her company Xicoia and the AI production studio behind it Particle6 do not want Tilly to be used in real films alongside real actors. Tilly will live in her own universe, the so-called Tillyverse: a digital ecosystem in which AI characters live, pursue careers and interact with fans. A genre of its own, says Van der Velden. Like animation. Nobody complains that Elsa from Frozen’s taking anyone’s job.

That’s their strongest argument, yet simultaneously their most crooked.

Animation was never positioned as competition to real actors. Elsa has no agent. Elsa doesn’t give interviews. Elsa doesn’t have an Instagram account where she shares her «everyday life» and builds up followers. Tilly does. That’s the crucial difference: not the visuals, but the cultural message. Tilly isn’t positioned next to Pixar characters. Tilly’s poised to go head-to-head with Scarlett Johansson – Van der Velden’s own words, by the way. So much for «not replacing».

At the same time – and here’s where things get interesting – Van der Velden offers production studios the opportunity to save twenty to thirty per cent of their budget with AI shots. Establishing shots, for example, or cutaways and expensive individual sequences. AI could take care of them so that a film can be finished despite limited budgets. That doesn’t sound like a genre of its own. It sounds like a pipeline. Like a foot in the door which, once it’s in, isn’t as easy to remove again.

Van der Velden even says this herself in the Hollywood Reporter interview, with a commendable degree of honesty: «[…] it will happen.» Job losses, shifts, transitions – she recognises them. However, she frames them as a transitional phase, after which more jobs will be created than before. It’s the classic promise of every major technological disruption, from Uber to Amazon. Sometimes it comes true. Generally, in the long term, for some. But for those who don’t survive the transition, the sentiment’s of little consolation.

Viewed in this light, Tilly isn’t a new genre. She’s a test case for the following question: how much resistance will the public put up?

The convenience problem

This question of resistance is at the heart of the issue, less to do with technology than with human nature.

AI is convenient. AI’s fast. AI makes no demands, never sleeps, doesn’t need a private jet and doesn’t call her agent at three in the morning (usually). From an investor’s point of view, a fully controllable asset – without strikes, rights or bad days – is a dream come true. And the film industry, already under pressure to turn over every penny twice, is ready to dream.

The problem with convenience isn’t that it’s wrong. It simply undermines principles. Not necessarily through a conscious decision, but through a thousand small, justifiable compromises. First AI lowers budgets, then it replaces a supporting role. Then a leading role in a market that accepts «good enough» because «perfect» is too expensive. The step from helping to replacing isn’t that massive. See? A long series of small steps.

The tricky thing is, there’s no single individual deciding where we’ll go. It’ll just happen. A result of quarterly figures, production plans and decisions that individually seem reasonable but end up leading down a path no one explicitly chose.

We can already see what this looks like in practice. Matthew McConaughey and Michael Caine recently licensed their voices to ElevenLabs – voluntarily, for a fee and with full control over their use. This way, McConaughey will soon be speaking Spanish without having learned a single phrase in his life. Caine, on the other hand, is listed on a platform where production companies can hire his voice for audio books and documentaries, even after he’s long gone. Legally, everything’s clean. But it’s yet another small step towards AI, which doesn’t support creativity, but replaces it.

Van der Velden herself hints at this when she says that the film industry’s only really opened up since February 2025. Studios that were previously dismissive were suddenly interested. What changed? Certainly not the technology, it’s the same that existed before. What has changed is the willingness to have a look. This willingness usually arises when you’ve become accustomed to comfort.

After all, we love working from home now.

Actually possible

It’d be wrong to condemn AI as evil across the board. There are use cases that actually make sense. The most convincing argument is also the most inconspicuous: budgets.

If AI actually allows establishing shots, elaborate backdrops and expensive individual sequences to be produced more cheaply, it could help precisely those productions that are under the most pressure today – smaller, bolder and less commercial ones. Studios like A24 show that it’s possible to make films through modest means and still reach wide audiences. Films such as Parasite, Everything Everywhere All at Once, The Whale and Marty Supreme. But A24 is the exception, not the rule.

Most studios no longer dare to try anything – the risk’s just too great. If AI lowers that risk, if a studio can tell a new story precisely because it can afford to tell it, then that’s not just lip service. That’s a real argument.

But even if it’s valid, it doesn’t answer the central question. That lies elsewhere.

A generation that doesn’t ask questions

Anyone who’s thirty or forty today still remembers a time when the art of acting was undeniably human. The tremor in a voice, one wrong breath, a look that hangs a second too long – it was all felt, nothing was calculated.

Acting has always been more than just technology. It was a life that someone made reality on the big screen. Real grief. Real doubt. Real exhaustion. The audience sensed this, often without knowing why. Marvel recently reminded us of this in a surprising way: Wonder Man is a declaration of love to precisely this art – warm-hearted, quiet, far removed from the usual franchise noise. It sends a clear message: to act is to live. And anyone who’s lived has something to show for it. Something that can’t be generated.

But here’s the real question: who will still feel this way in twenty years’ time? After all, younger generations are growing up in a world where AI content on TikTok, Instagram and YouTube is so ubiquitous that the question, «Is this real?» has ceased to be an issue. This generation is neither dumber nor less sensitive. But they no longer learn what it means to be human from where it used to be most visible: in the face of a person who really lived through something and is now reliving it. For us.

This isn’t an indictment. It’s an observation that explains why resistance to Tilly Norwood – as loud as it might be today – will probably die out. The arguments against it are just, but habituation and convenience are stronger than any argument. Always.

Van der Velden knows this. «I remember myself in the past three years, how long it took me to get my head around it,» she says of her own AI technology. Today, she’s one of its loudest advocates. Her concerns haven’t disappeared. They’ve simply become quieter. And habituation, after a while, feels deceptively similar to conviction.

Tilly smiles and waits

In the end, Tilly Norwood is one thing above all: patient. She doesn’t age. She never gets tired. She doesn’t negotiate and makes no demands. She’s waiting for the world to get used to her. For the outrage to subside. Until fascinating and unsettling eventually becomes normal.

«AI is not the enemy, it’s the key,» Tilly sings. How much longer until AI quality isn’t perfect, but «good enough» for all of us?

To be honest, it’s too early to say whether this is good or bad. The technology exists. This is no longer a thought experiment. The question is not, «Are AI characters coming?» The question is: who will dictate the conditions under which they can be used? Will it be trade unions and legislators setting the rules before the market overruns them? Or will investors and production companies manufacture facts until legislation can only react?

This isn’t a battle between man and machine. It’s a much older struggle: between what’s comfortable and what sacrifices principles. No one will choose the moment when AI replaces creativity. It’ll just happen. Out of habit. From a thousand little decisions that individually feel reasonable. And by the time the next generation asks if anything’s been lost, they won’t even remember what. Convenience, as we all know, has an excellent track record in this battle.

Tilly Norwood stands on the shoulders of a giant. And she’s smiling. We just don’t know exactly why.

Luca Fontana

Senior Editor

Luca.Fontana@digitecgalaxus.ch

I write about technology as if it were cinema, and about films as if they were real life. Between bits and blockbusters, I’m after stories that move people, not just generate clicks. And yes – sometimes I listen to film scores louder than I probably should.

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