Imagine waking up one day to hear your own voice echoing through train stations nationwide, without ever having given permission or received a dime for it – that's the unsettling nightmare unfolding for performers in our AI-driven world. Acclaimed New Zealand actor Jennifer Ward-Lealand is stepping up as a leading voice in an international campaign to shield artists from this looming digital menace.
But here's where it gets controversial: Ward-Lealand insists there's no such animal as an 'AI actor.' In her view, real acting is fundamentally a human endeavor, driven by emotion, nuance, and lived experience. AI, she explains, is merely sophisticated machine learning – a tool that, while impressive, poses a genuine risk to the livelihoods of flesh-and-blood performers. For beginners dipping their toes into the arts industry, think of it like this: AI might mimic voices or movements, but it lacks the soul and spontaneity that make human performances irreplaceable, much like how a photocopy can never capture the warmth of an original painting.
This seasoned filmmaker, who has worn the honors of New Zealander of the Year and Companion of the New Zealand Order of Merit, has now added a prestigious feather to her cap: Vice President of the International Federation of Actors. This organization serves as a worldwide coalition for actors' unions, and Ward-Lealand is the first Kiwi to claim this role, highlighting her commitment to advocating on a global stage.
While the explosion of AI technologies promises exciting new horizons – from faster special effects in movies to innovative voice synthesis in apps – Ward-Lealand, at 63 years old, warns that it could all go horribly astray if not managed carefully. She recounts a shocking incident involving a French actor who boarded a train only to hear his voice booming from the public address system at every stop. He hadn't recorded anything for the company, nor had he been consulted or paid. This example underscores a broader issue: without proper safeguards, AI could exploit artists' voices and likenesses indefinitely.
Ward-Lealand believes that if a performer chooses to lend their voice to AI, that's their call – but only if they're fully informed upfront. Transparency is key, she says. 'The core principles here are consent and fair pay. These are what separate true innovation from blatant exploitation,' she emphasizes. It's a point that could spark debate: should artists have absolute control over how their image is used in the digital realm, or does unrestricted AI advancement outweigh individual rights? And this is the part most people miss – the long-term implications. Once your voice is digitized and synthesized, it could keep generating revenue for creators for decades without you ever seeing a penny again.
Locally, Ward-Lealand has witnessed New Zealand actors missing out on audiobook gigs because producers opted for cheaper AI-generated narration. In response, Actors Equity NZ is now equipping performers with guidance on AI clauses in contracts. Imagine signing on for a three-hour recording session – the advice urges checking for any fine print that might allow your work to be endlessly replicated and reused. Without upfront compensation that reflects this potential, your voice could become a perpetual moneymaker for others, working tirelessly for 10, 20, or even 30 years.
Yet, broader industry protections remain a work in progress. Ward-Lealand describes the Screen Industry Workers Act 2022 – legislation designed to empower screen workers to negotiate collectively with producers via bodies like Screen Producers NZ (SPADA) – as somewhat ineffective, or 'toothless,' as she puts it. Bargaining hasn't materialized as hoped, she notes, suggesting the law needs refinements to truly empower artists.
Looking ahead, she proposes a bold government initiative: establishing a 'star system' akin to Australia's model. In that country, incentives and support have propelled talents like Toni Collette, Nicole Kidman, Cate Blanchett, and the Hemsworth brothers to international stardom. It's no coincidence, Ward-Lealand explains – by backing homegrown performers, the government creates opportunities that lead to global recognition. When these stars return for Australian productions, they inject significant economic benefits. She urges New Zealand to overhaul its rules, which currently permit foreign performers, writers, directors, or crew to work here for up to 14 days, even when local talent is available and qualified.
'You can accomplish a tremendous amount in just 14 days,' she points out, 'from filming an entire movie to nailing a guest spot on a TV show or even shooting a commercial.' This policy, she argues, squeezes out Kiwi actors from a pool of uniquely 'match-fit' talent, potentially stifling the industry's growth. Could this be seen as unfair protectionism, or is it a necessary shield for local creativity? It's a controversial angle worth pondering.
On a brighter note, Ward-Lealand celebrates recent tweaks to the screen rebate fund, which have bolstered the sector's stability and viability. And she's far from discouraging young New Zealanders from pursuing performing arts dreams. Instead, she advocates for wide-eyed realism and versatility. 'Broaden your skills as much as possible,' she advises, 'because that's the secret to building a sustainable career.' Relying solely on screen work? 'Good luck with that,' she says with a knowing smile. Diversify into theater, voiceovers, emceeing, animated characters, or even video game roles – the more adaptable you are, the greater your opportunities.
She grounds this in harsh reality: roughly 85 to 90% of actors are typically unemployed at any given time. 'That's just how this field operates,' she acknowledges. But she offers a mindset shift: Instead of lamenting being 'out of work,' reframe it as being 'available to producers.' This positive spin can open doors and keep spirits high.
Currently, Ward-Lealand is gearing up for her portrayal of former Prime Minister Helen Clark in Fiona Samuel's upcoming play, Helen Clark in Six Outfits, set to debut at the Auckland Theatre Company in April.
What do you think? Is AI an unstoppable force that artists must adapt to, or a threat demanding strict regulations? Should governments prioritize homegrown talent over global flexibility? Do you agree that performers need ironclad consent and compensation for digital use, or does that stifle creativity? Share your thoughts in the comments – let's debate this together!
