As conversations around artificial intelligence grow louder across the global film industry, actors-filmmakers Rajat Kapoor, Ranvir Shorey and Vinay Pathak are approaching the subject with a mix of curiosity, caution and defiance. Speaking to The Hollywood Reporter India during promotions for their Zee5 thriller Everybody Loves Sohrab Handa — which THR India described as “a savoury and thought-provoking whodunnit” — the trio reflected on what AI means for creativity, labour and the future of storytelling.
The anxiety is real, even if not uniformly acknowledged. While Hollywood has seen strikes and collective bargaining shape AI-related protections, the Indian industry remains relatively unregulated and even casual in its approach. Kapoor, however, admits to a certain distance from the debate.
“I don’t know very much about it, to be honest,” he says. “I don’t follow how it’s impacting or changing things, so I’m not very aware and therefore not scared of it either.”
Yet, his instinct is not entirely dismissive. “I’m sure it will have an impact. But at the same time, I feel that the value of writers and actors, things AI can’t really do, might actually go up. AI may be able to generate a certain kind of basic script, and do it well, but it won’t go beyond that. So people who can go beyond ‘good’ writing will probably become more valued.”
If Kapoor’s position is one of cautious optimism, Shorey’s is more analytical and sceptical. For him, the core limitation of AI lies in its very design.
“From whatever little I’ve gathered, yes, AI is going to affect employment,” Shorey says. “A lot of the labour involved right now will likely be taken over by it. But I don’t think AI can be truly creative. It essentially averages out and rehashes what already exists. It works through permutations and combinations of existing material,” he said.
That, he suggests, may explain why AI outputs often feel familiar rather than groundbreaking. “That’s useful, sure, especially if you’re aiming for the kind of mediocrity we often see in the mainstream,” he adds, with a dry edge. “But truly creative, innovative, path-breaking work? I don’t think that comes out of AI without human input.”
For Shorey, the distinction is fundamental: “Just like films can’t exist without characters, creativity can’t exist without the human element.” Even the most impressive AI-generated visuals, he argues, are ultimately reflections of human intervention. “I’ve seen some incredible AI work. It’s visually breathtaking. But I credit that to the person behind it, the one crafting the prompts. Not the machine itself.”
Pathak, meanwhile, takes a longer generational view and is less concerned with immediate disruption than with the arc of cultural response. “I’ll be honest and only because you’re asking questions that push us to think this through,” he says, before aligning broadly with his co-actors. “But I also feel that the people most enamoured by AI aren’t necessarily the very new generation.”
His belief is that younger audiences will eventually outgrow the novelty. “I have a strong feeling that younger people will eventually see through it. They won’t be as impressed by AI as we, or the current generation of filmmakers, might be.”
What will follow, in his telling, is a return to taste. “They’ll start recognising the monotony, even the morbidity, of AI-generated work, and might return to something more ‘gourmet,’ for lack of a better word.”
To illustrate the point, Shorey offers a metaphor that collapses centuries of technological awe into a single continuum. “Generations ago, a young man encountering a bullock cart for the first time would be amazed, because suddenly, he doesn’t have to walk anymore. It’s revolutionary,” he says. “Years later, someone encounters a Corvette, it’s another leap.”
AI, in this analogy, is simply the latest marvel. “For this generation, AI is that leap: a fascinating, powerful machine that helps you create,” Shorey continues. “But eventually, it will lose its sheen. What feels groundbreaking today will become ordinary,” Shorey concludes.
