Falling in love with AI!
Recently, a video clip emerged of a robot in a Chinese factory going rogue, smashing everything within reach of its steel arms. The footage stirred anxiety and existential dread in nearly everyone who saw or read about it.
Had this video surfaced a quarter-century ago—or even just ten years back—it likely wouldn’t have sparked such alarm. Back then, the prospect of machines going haywire or humans surrendering control to AI didn’t carry the same visceral weight it does today.
In fact, the magnitude of the incident was inflated—both by the amplifying echo of social media and the urgency of traditional news cycles. The robot did not attack anyone, nor did it exhibit symptoms of a violent malfunction. It was merely enacting a pre-programmed response after being left dangling in the air, it “sensed” it was falling and activated its anti-fall feature, designed precisely for such scenarios.
This is not to belittle the unease surrounding our increasingly intimate entanglement with intelligent machines. That apprehension is real, and perhaps inevitable. But the so-called “loss of control” in this case was nothing more than a reflex—a mechanical instinct. In that sense, the robot mirrored us more than it threatened us. Consider the impulsive reactions humans display in moments of sudden fright—flinching, fleeing, lashing out. Watch any candid-camera prank, and you’ll see: beneath the logic of circuits and code, the robot’s panic was not so alien after all.
According to AI experts and roboticists, however, the possibility of things spiraling beyond human control remains very real. Geoffrey Hinton, often referred to as the godfather of AI and a Nobel laureate in physics for his contributions to machine learning, offers a chilling metaphor. Developing AI emotionally, he says, is "like somebody who has this really cute tiger cub. Unless you can be very sure that it's not gonna want to kill you when it's grown up, you should worry."
Frankenstein: the origin story
The metaphor is as cinematic as it is sobering, evoking the classic narrative arc of creation confronting its creator—a theme that has long been a staple of science fiction literature and cinema stretching back more than 200 years to Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein”. Her novel was published at the dawn of the Industrial Revolution, the period that paved the way for our present and, possibly, our future.
Horror, as a genre, was born from society’s restless conscience—its growing unease with the powers it was unleashing. From the hiss of steam engines and the spark of electricity to the apocalyptic dread of nuclear bombs and the cold logic of computers, each technological leap has summoned its cinematic shadow.
In this lineage, the robot is the spiritual heir of Frankenstein’s monster: an inanimate form shocked into being by electricity, haunted by the burden of consciousness. Like its literary forebear, the robot in horror cinema is a sentient creation that slips its leash and demands not obedience, but autonomy.
This anxiety reemerges—subtly and strikingly—in the 2023 Dutch short film "Ik ben geen robot/I’m Not a Robot", written and directed by Victoria Warmerdam, which recently won the Oscar for Best Live Action Short Film.
The film follows a young woman employed at a music production company who inexplicably fails a routine CAPTCHA test—the familiar online gatekeeper that demands proof of humanity. Irritated, she calls customer service and vents her frustration, only to be asked, with chilling calm, to confirm that she is not, in fact, a robot.
What begins as a moment of absurdity slowly unravels into existential terror. She calls her boyfriend, but he hangs up in disgust. And then, the revelation: she is indeed a robot, crafted in the image of his deceased partner. The truth overwhelms her, setting her on a course of grief, denial, and ultimately, destruction.
https://youtu.be/hyuZ7gP4VIE?si=KoyVQW5qQRMOCWT5Woman as robot
“I Am Not a Robot” explores existential and feminist themes through fleeting, layered references that recall Henrik Ibsen’s play “A Doll’s House”. These ideas are tackled more broadly—and more commercially—in the recently released American horror-action “Companion”, written and directed by Drew Hancock (2025).
The film’s protagonist, Iris, gradually discovers she isn’t human, but a female humanoid robot, the 'companion' of Josh. While on a camping trip, one of Josh’s friends attempts to rape Iris. In self-defense, she kills him. But upon returning home, she tells Josh and his friends what has happened. Josh says, “Iris, go to sleep”, shutting her down. She wakes to find herself tied up and learns that she’s a rented robot and will be returned to the company for disassembly.
Iris finds out that Josh controls her emotions and intelligence levels via a mobile app. She also discovers that Josh and his friends have set her up to kill their wealthy host, aiming to seize the $12 million he has hidden in his house.
Overcoming her shock, Iris grabs Josh’s phone, boosts her intelligence and aggression settings to maximum, and escapes. It’s then revealed that one of the friends is also a robot. What follows is a violent chase sequence, culminating with Iris stealing the money and fleeing. The final scene shows her driving off, waving her metal arm—its synthetic skin torn off during a fight—at another identical female robot riding in a nearby car, who stares back in a mix of shock and curiosity.
The female humanoid is also central to “Ex Machina”, written and directed by Alex Garland (2014). The title plays on the expression deus ex machina (lit. God from the machine) which derives from the device used in ancient Greek theater to lower the gods down onto the stage from above.
The film follows a brilliant but unhinged tech scientist developing lifelike robots capable of thinking, feeling, and making independent choices. Like other films, it ends with the robot woman breaking free from her male creators and choosing her own path.
Beyond its direct feminist meaning, the metaphor contrasting the robot female with the human male imbues the robot with an enigmatic mix of allure and terror. It simultaneously stirs empathy for the woman and fear of her, serving as a reverse metaphor for our mixed feelings about technology and the concept of an automated friend and lover, which, wittingly or unwittingly, has become our constant companion via ChatGPT and its like.
https://youtu.be/Qr_kX0D3DNA?si=rdVJpruWAXINFV1KWhen intimacy becomes scary
This terrifying intimacy between humans and machines is at the heart of the 2021 French film “Titane”, written and directed by Julia Ducournau. Note here that in most films exploring such dynamics the director is the writer; a sign of how deeply personal the subject is to them.
“Titane”, which won Ducournau the Palme d’Or at Cannes, polarized audiences. It ventures into a dark realm of desire and revulsion that most films avoid. After a car accident, the protagonist, Alexia, has a titanium (titane in French) plate implanted in her skull. Upon leaving the hospital, she begins to treat cars as living beings.
Alexia, who works as an exotic dancer. She seduces men, and during sex, kills them with her long metal hairstick. The film’s narrative—along with the critical acclaim it received—speaks to a growing cultural obsession with the human-machine relationship. These films explore not only potential futures but also reflect deep-seated emotional and psychological questions by placing them in strange new contexts.
Shifting the focus from female robots to male ones, the German film “Ich bin dein Mensch/I’m Your Man”, directed and partly written by Maria Schrader, tells the story of a woman who is offered by the tech company she works for a trial relationship with a male humanoid robot designed specifically for her. Initially resistant, she reluctantly agrees, only to find herself developing real emotions for him.
The film takes a different angle from its predecessors. It suggests that humans may not seek the “perfect” partner, but rather someone who fits their emotional expectations, flaws and all. The robot’s designers succeed by mining personal data to create a companion who embodies her unspoken desires.
What sets “I’m Your Man” apart is its presentation of the human woman’s perspective, not the female robot’s, and its optimistic portrayal of human-robot love—offering a rare vision of emotional fulfillment rather than destruction.
https://youtu.be/oR_e9y-bka0?si=O4WfwhHaLhgvZd4ZStanley Kubrick’s prophecy
The first onscreen exploration of the complex relationship between the human being and the computer brain was Stanley Kubrick’s 1968 masterpiece “2001: A Space Odyssey”. A pivotal part of the film is the tense standoff in outer space between astronaut Bowman and HAL 9000, a supercomputer that refuses to acknowledge its own errors. HAL kills Bowman’s crewmate and tries to eliminate him, but Bowman eventually deactivates the machine.
Though a box office success, Kubrick’s space odyssey wasn’t fully appreciated in its time. Released amid the global youth movements of 1968 that birthed the counterculture generation and produced computer giants like the 1955-born Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, the film gained influence over time.
The film earned an Oscar, for visual effects, remarkably the only Oscar the truly great filmmaker Kubrick ever received. However, in Sight and Sound’s 2022 critics’ poll, it ranked 10th, and first among filmmakers.
Before his death in 1999, Kubrick began work on a final film about AI and humanity. That project—“A.I. Artificial Intelligence”—was completed by Steven Spielberg and released in 2001, the same year Space Odyssey was set.
Set in the next century, the film imagines a world where robots are seamlessly integrated into daily life. Some can be programmed with emotional sensors that allow them to feel love, hate, fear, and other emotions.
The story follows a woman who adopts a robotic child and has him programmed to love her unconditionally. Even after she abandons him, he remains fixated on regaining her love. Though a work of science fiction, “A.I. Artificial Intelligence” remains one of the most poignant explorations of love’s origins, whether human or machine.
It is deeply sympathetic to robots, portraying them as tomorrow’s slaves and concubines—beings who may one day rebel against their oppressors. This, of course, echoes the original Frankenstein fear: that humanity’s creation may ultimately lead to its demise!