'The script will write itself': How the WGA strike could backfire on writers

The Hollywood studios’ desire to replace talent with artificial intelligence was foreshadowed in 1992’s tribute to Tinseltown terror, "The Player," a valentine to filmmaking’s dark side from director Robert Altman and writer Michael Tolkin. 

In the film, rising friction between newly poached executive Larry Levy (played by Peter Gallagher) and soon-to-be mogul Griffin Mill (Tim Robbins) starts with one unforgettable scene that resembles the present-day fascinations with AI. 

Power posturing studio executives surround a boardroom table, pitching their development slates and sharing ideas. To minimize the writers’ roles – along with their generous pay days – Larry draws upon stories ripped from the newspaper headlines: "The script will write itself."

This causes Griffin to ponder the potential of someday getting rid of all the creatives and actors: “What an interesting concept it is to eliminate the writer from the artistic process. If we could just get rid of these actors and directors, maybe we've got something here.”

In an ongoing strike three decades later, talent marches the picket lines in a battle to protect their creative rights and future livelihoods. The Writers Guild of America (WGA) has been on strike since May, and the actors' union, SAG-AFTRA, joined in July. It has been 63 years since both writers and actors were on strike at the same time.

How past writers' strikes create next business model

It is a noble fight, and their resolve might feel stronger now than when the WGA strike began May 2. But here is the key to understanding Hollywood strikes and their aftermath: It is not the writers’ and actors’ demands but rather the work stoppage itself that will form the next Hollywood business model. 

For instance, when studios were unable to hire union writers during the 2007-08 WGA strike, they turbo-charged reality TV producers to employ nonunion personnel, and a subindustry flourished.

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My book "The Big Deal: Hollywood’s Million-Dollar Spec Script Market" documented how the 1988 WGA strike built the foundation for the 1990s boom of screenplays written on speculation. Before 1988, writers routinely developed projects in tandem with creative studio executives, taking a pitch to fruition as a movie or TV series that made everybody relatively happy. But after the 154-day WGA strike, script buying frenzies subsequently emerged.

Writers had returned from picket lines to draft that original idea they always thought about, hoping their scripts would sell once the market opened again. Overseen by more business-minded buyers (commonly known as “the MBAs”), studios got into bidding wars to feed their machines. After all, the filmmaking pipelines had dried to a trickle. 

Skilled agents at William Morris, Creative Artists Agency and elsewhere routinely drove spec sales into millions of dollars; the 1990s turned out to be a golden decade for Hollywood film.

How will artificial intelligence alter movies and television shows?

It is natural to be afraid of what the future might hold, especially in the fear-driven environment of Hollywood. Talent already struggles with careers that can change daily; nothing in show business is secure. When the true “hot button” issue is artificial intelligence, is it clear how the ongoing strike will alter Hollywood’s status quo? With the work stoppage, wouldn’t studios and streaming services naturally accelerate their ability to harness AI? 

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This strike could be just what the content executives wanted all along to develop their AI initiatives, evidenced by job postings for AI product managers offering a total compensation range of $300,000-$900,000.

It’s an Uberization cycle. The writers who were afraid of being replaced by robots went on strike, and the executives recognized, “Hey, we better soup up the robots.” 

That sounds obvious when you think about it. It’s like the balloon being held underwater, pressures building everywhere as lawyers strategize legal maneuvers while tech wizards develop better generative AI models for the executives to exploit.

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This is not to suggest that the WGA should accept anything short of the writers' goals, but rather to recognize their ability to benefit from the coming AI boom. Those with the skills to render AI useful to their own benefit will be the true winners in Hollywood’s future world.

Negotiations should not be complicated. Each side is striving to meet in the middle, which is how most monetary decisions are finally resolved. 

Even so, AI will remain a sticky wicket dividing executives and talent. And the longer this strike lasts, the more the studios and streaming services will depend on artificial intelligence. They are already doing this with the script screening process, synopsizing stories in milliseconds and diminishing the need for human story analysts.

Should the behavior of the content producers be of any surprise? 

Early in my career, I spent years at 20th Century Fox and Columbia TV, enjoying every moment while I learned about the DNA of the studio species. One doesn’t have to work in Hollywood very long before recognizing that studios are largely amoral organizations driven primarily by profit motives, power and greed. No amount of picketing will change that.

This circles back to the most haunting scene in "The Player." In a drunken outburst, the profoundly troubled screenwriter David Kahane (played by Vincent D’Onofrio) hollers wildly at studio exec Griffin Mill, “I can write! What can you do?”

Griffin answered by killing him.

Thom Taylor is the Los Angeles-based founder of Del Rey Capital Management.