Mike Rianda’s debut feature, the sci-fi comedy The Mitchells vs. the Machines, portrays a family of misfits confronting an AI, released by a Silicon Valley tech giant, bent on eradicating humanity. Upon its release on Netflix in 2021, the film was both critically acclaimed and commercially successful, recording as the platform’s highest-ever viewed animated movie at that time. Its themes have only become more relevant over time, according to Rianda.
“It’s ironic,” Rianda comments, “now we have to do that for real. Now we’re the mismatched crew that must take a stand against AI.”
On Monday, the Animation Guild, which counts Rianda among its members, will start negotiations with the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers, which represents the major Hollywood studios and the entertainment sector, for their upcoming contract renewal. The AMPTP was previously known for its opposition during the screenwriters’ and actors’ strikes, advocating for increased flexibility for studios to utilize AI in filmmaking and television production.
For some in the animation industry, including storyboarders, artists, producers, writers, and cartoonists, this impending negotiation is seen as a pivotal battle. A host of leading animation studios have expressed their support for AI, with some, including Netflix, already integrating it extensively across a variety of uses contexts.
“We know that the animation industry is specifically vulnerable to AI,” says Julia Prescott, a screenwriter and comedian who has worked for Nickelodeon and the Cartoon Network. “More so than live-action production.” Companies like Disney and Netflix have vast stores of images and data that can be used to train large language and diffusion models; jobs at every step of the production process from voice acting to storyboarding, workers fear, are at risk of being automated.
Studio heads have given animators ample reason to worry. DreamWorks cofounder Jeffrey Katzenberg made headlines last year when he said that AI could probably eliminate 90 percent of the jobs required to produce animated features. “In the good old days, when I made an animated movie, it took 500 artists five years to make a world-class animated movie,” Katzenberg said at the Bloomberg New Economy Forum. “I think it won’t take 10 percent of that. Literally, I don’t think it will take 10 percent of that three years out from now.”
More recently, Netflix co-CEO Ted Sarandos said on an earnings call, “I think that AI is going to generate a great set of creator tools, a great way for creators to tell better stories.” In early 2023, the company drew the ire of artists when it used AI-generated background art in an anime short; Netflix Japan said it had done so because of a “labor shortage.” This April, the studio caught flack after a Futurism article alleged AI-generated images had been used in a true crime documentary. (The film’s producer denied the use of AI.)
When Moonbug, the studio that produces the ultrapopular kids show CoComelon, laid off staff amid soaring viewership numbers, rumors swirled that its purported decision to experiment with AI was partly to blame. (Moonbug did not immediately respond to a request for comment.)
Just as in the gaming sector, data on the adoption of AI and its effect on employment is sparse, with management seldom openly stating intentions to replace human workers with machines. The complexity of this transition is often veiled by multiple factors. Nonetheless, from discussions with approximately a dozen animation professionals, there is a palpable consensus that AI poses a significant threat to their careers.
Nora Meek, a storyboard artist and writer, expressed that she and her coworkers place a high priority on addressing the challenges posed by AI. “More than improvements in salary or health benefits, it’s crucial for us to establish strong collective safeguards against AI. Otherwise, we stand to lose everything,” she stated.
Despite these concerns, animators do have some advantages. This year’s biggest movies have included animated features like Inside Out 2, which has earned nearly $1.6 billion, and Despicable Me 4. Successes like If, Garfield, and Kung Fu Panda 4 have also made significant impacts. Their success has sparked headlines such as “Animated Films Are Helping Save Hollywood,” especially notable in a year when many live-action films fell short of box office expectations. It’s evidence of a highly profitable yet sometimes underappreciated sector.
Rianda reflects on his experiences working at Sony, where he often saw executive salaries printed out. Sitting next to the printer, he witnessed firsthand the disparity. “Seeing those figures made me realize the stark contrast in earnings within the studio,” he remarked.
I had met Rianda outside the sleek, angled Netflix Animation headquarters located in Burbank—a typical Southern Californian office building nestled indistinguishably among strip malls. Together, we navigated the maze-like parking lots under the harsh sun to reach a local burger café. At our destination, Rianda shared his concerns about injustices in the industry, the looming confrontation with studio executives, and his deep-seated worries about the impact of AI on his field.
“For most families, it’s all fun and games. But from my perspective, I’m warning them, ‘This is serious, and we need to be prepared for a battle,'” he explained.
Rianda’s demeanor could be likened to one of his characters from Mitchells—warm, energetic, and morally driven, albeit far less censored than what you’d find permissible in a PG-rated movie. “Drawing boundaries is tough,” Rianda admitted. “Animators often don’t boast about their contributions; they minimize it to ‘just drawing pictures.’ Yet, when animations like the Minions generate billions, I argue if you sketched the original Minion, you’re owed a fair share. Half a billion, at least,” he joked, punctuating his point with a laugh. “The ones pocketing the profits aren’t the ones who brought those characters to life.”
Throughout our conversation, Rianda barely touched his meal, his focus instead on the plight of his fellow artists—overburdened and poorly compensated, despite being part of major animation studios. “The reality of what people earn opened my eyes to the stark injustices of our industry,” he remarked.
If he’s upset about the differences in pay, his views on AI are even more intense, seeing it almost as a dire threat. This sentiment is expressed through Mitchells, which portrays a disgruntled AI entity named PAL who retaliates against its indifferent human originators, confining them one at a time.
“I have been worried about this for quite some time,” Rianda mentions. The creation of Mitchells spanned over seven years, and even from the onset of scripting, Rianda was already concerned about the increasing influence of automation. His research into AI only heightened his apprehensions. “I was like, ‘OK. OK. Holy shit. Holy Jesus Christ,’” he recalls. “Where most families saw it as harmless, I saw a looming threat, warning, ‘Listen, kids. This is approaching and we must stand up to it.’”
Now, the issue has, so to speak, arrived. Rianda believes firmly that business leaders are earnest about employing AI to diminish workforce numbers and reduce labor costs as soon as feasible. “From a bit of insight from being in meetings with executives,” he shares, “comments were made suggesting that, ‘Look, in the future, it could genuinely eliminate half of the jobs and just say, goodbye.’”
The Animation Guild (TAG) dedicated much of 2023 to exploring the effects of AI on employment. They established a task force to probe AI’s role in animation, observed AI’s involvement in the Writers Guild of America (WGA) and Screen Actors Guild–American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (SAG-AFTRA) strikes, and collaborated with specialists at organizations like the AI Now Institute. Note: The author of this piece is a journalist at AI Now. TAG, despite its smaller size with only three full-time staff members compared to the larger groups supporting WGA, is urged by Rianda to adopt rigorous AI safeguards. There was notable disappointment within some of its members following a recent International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees contract that didn’t meet the expectations of some illustrators. IATSE is the parent union of the Animation Guild.
And Rianda doesn’t think it matters much if the AI is any good or not. “They’ll profit for two years until the bottom falls out and everyone’s like, ‘This is horseshit.’ But by then, it’s too late. The job’s already gone. They’re not going to be like, ‘Oh, you know what, let’s go back to the old way and pay everyone super fairly.’”
So Rianda has become one of the most recognizable faces in the push for protections against AI in his industry, joining TAG’s organizing committee, reaching out to colleagues to get involved, and lighting up Twitter with proclamations like: “My opinion is that the standard should be studios cannot replace a SINGLE artist with AI. Period. Without that, AI will start replacing ‘small jobs’ + will begin to hollow out our industry one job at a time.”
On Saturday, the guild held a Stand With Animation rally in Burbank. Hundreds, if not thousands, of animation workers gathered in the parking lot of IATSE Local 80, toting signs that were, fittingly, well drawn and framed, featuring characters like Bender from Futurama and Bob from Bob’s Burgers, with slogans like “AI Can’t Replace Artists” and “Leave Animation to the Humans (Because AI Can’t Do It).” Anti-AI sentiment was easily the predominant trend.
When I interviewed writers and actors at the picket lines of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes last year, there was a mix of sentiment around AI, which, while largely negative, encompassed anxiety, uncertainty, equivocation, and anger.
The gathering in Burbank displayed an overwhelming disapproval of AI, unparalleled in my experiences. When an animator was questioned on AI’s influence in his field, his response was blunt: “AI can fuck right off.” When approached, storyboard artists Lindsey Castro and Brittany McCarthy responded with boos instead of words.
A year following the WGA strikes, the consensus among the animation workers was clear—they were not just skeptical of AI; they were outright against it. One worker passed by holding a placard echoing master animator Hayao Miyazaki’s critique that AI in creative processes is “an insult to life itself,” referencing a comment he made.
Despite the heat lingering into the evening, Rianda energetically hosted the event. The stage saw a mix of personalities—from writers like Rebecca Sugar and animation icons like Genndy Tartakovsky and James Baxter, to union leaders and public officials including California assemblymember Laura Friedman, who affirmed, “We’re not going to let your job be taken away by some computer, some soulless program.” The mayor of Burbank, the president of IATSE, and actor Adam Conover also addressed the crowd.
The turnout stunned organizers and speakers alike. “I’ve never seen so many animation people in one place before; we like to stay in our dark caves,” commented one person. Midway through, Rianda announced it as the largest rally in the animation industry’s history, keeping spirits high with continuous humor and rallying cries, his enthusiasm undampened even as he appeared increasingly sunburnt and fatigued.
Hundreds of animators cheered along; it was easy to see these “indoor kids,” as many animation workers there referred to themselves, as the lovable underdogs, facing off against employers who were eager to replace them with advanced technology. They resembled, as Rianda highlighted, the Mitchells from his story, initially overwhelmed by a robotic apocalypse, yet ultimately triumphant in stopping it.
“I’m trying to do this stuff because I’m concerned that if people aren’t aware of what could happen, the worst will happen,” Rianda explained. “It starts subtly, like with self-service kiosks at supermarkets. Suddenly, everyone in town is jobless, wondering, ‘What’s happening? Why can’t I find work?’ I genuinely believe this could lead to the loss of thousands of jobs.”
Like many of his fellow artists and creative workers, Rianda views artificial intelligence as a tool that, while potentially beneficial, is currently being exploited by the wrong hands for the wrong purposes. That’s why he’s dedicated to fighting this misuse—to ensure AI is used responsibly.
“The concept of AI is fantastic: imagine using it to tackle climate change, cure diseases, and achieve other incredible feats,” he says. “However, in corporate hands, AI is like a chainsaw, poised to devastate everything in its path.”
