There's something a little paradoxical about the fact that the world's most prestigious film festival has also become, willy-nilly, one of the global showcases for artificial intelligence.
Cannes, a temple of auteur cinema, film stock, and celebrated creative expression, has found itself in recent editions having to contend with a technology that no one really invited, but that everyone is already using.
The question is no longer "is AI entering cinema?" It's already here. The real question, the one professionals are asking themselves as they walk along the Croisette, is what on earth they're going to do with it, and what it's going to do to them.
The scandal of the 2025 edition speaks volumes about the state of the debate; it was revealed in quick succession that artificial intelligence software had been used to give Adrien Brody a convincing Hungarian accent in The Brutalist, and to correct Selena Gomez's Spanish in Emilia Pérez by Jacques Audiard—auteur films, award-winning films, films that no one expected to be a testing ground for tech.
Indignation was strong in certain circles, but more importantly, it highlighted a reality that many preferred to ignore: AI is already in the films we watch, and often, it's discreet by design.
"The whole point of AI in cinema is for it to be discreet," summarizes Mehdi Triki, the main lobbyist for this technology in France. And the only difference from blockbusters is that you don't see sharks swimming in the Colosseum; AI in auteur cinema fades into the background of the work, which doesn't make it any less present.
In the aisles of the Film Market, companies like Largo.ai offer tools capable of analyzing screenplays, evaluating characters, suggesting casting choices, and even predicting a film's financial results.
We're far from the Hollywood fantasy of a machine generating a masterpiece in five seconds; we are, however, very close to a set of professional tools that integrate seamlessly into every stage of the process, from writing to financing, without making a sound.
The emergence of AI in screenwriting is perhaps the most significant phenomenon of this period, with names as unlikely to be associated with shortcuts as Paul Schrader, the man who wrote Taxi Driver and Raging Bull for Scorsese, have publicly expressed their enthusiasm for ChatGPT as an idea generation tool.
In France, specialized software like Genario, developed by a screenwriter from the series Braquo, aim to provide a framework for these uses with an approach designed for industry professionals.
The productivity of some screenwriters has clearly increased in quantity; as for quality, there's nothing necessarily conclusive.
This is where the debate gets interesting: AI can help unblock a scene, test narrative arcs, and overcome writer's block, but it doesn't replace the uniqueness of a voice, the precision of human observation, or the accumulated experience that gives a story its own texture.
Pauline Rocafull, director of the European Screenwriters' City, compares these tools to "sparring partners"; she sees them as an opportunity to democratize writing for people hindered by stylistic barriers or the articulation of ideas, and that's no small thing.
Screenwriting has long been the bottleneck for projects that never saw the light of day due to a lack of technical know-how in shaping ideas.
What AI tools are also changing is the power dynamic between creators and producers.
Channels like TF1 or Arte already use this software as a first filter to evaluate incoming projects; AI doesn't say if a project is good, but it can indicate if it aligns with an editorial line, and this shift deserves attention, as the machine thus becomes a co-selector, upstream of human review.
The most profound change may be geographical, and it's rarely discussed.
What we haven't yet fully grasped is the extent to which these tools can alter the geography of global cinema. In Africa, there are numerous projects related to local mythologies and Afrofuturism currently being developed. Until now, financially, these were unaffordable for local filmmakers, and for them, even more so than for Westerners, AI opens up a world of possibilities.
This is perhaps the most credible promise of this revolution: not the elimination of talent, but the reduction of entry barriers that prevented entire voices from being heard.
An independent filmmaker who can now produce visual effects that would have cost ten million dollars five years ago is not cheating; they are gaining access to a freedom that the film industry's economics had previously denied them.
The World AI Film Festival, in its second edition, brought together over 5,500 films from 80 countries, and the award-winning film, Costa Verde, illustrates a certain maturity by integrating AI without making it visible. This figure says something important: there is already a pool of creators worldwide who have decided to explore this territory without waiting for institutional permission.
The enthusiasm of some should not overshadow the legitimate concerns of others; companies are beginning to replace certain jobs with AI, and animation is at the forefront.
Studios that churn out high volumes of images to fund more ambitious projects see their economic model threatened, and without these intermediate productions, the financial balance of the entire animation industry erodes.
Yann Gozlan, a director, refuses to use generative AIs like ChatGPT, stating, "By constantly delegating, we lose the ability to do," which is a simple yet powerful observation.
The question isn't just whether AI does the job well, but what happens in the minds and hands of creators when they stop doing things themselves. Does learning by doing, formative mistakes, and the mastery that comes from repeated actions all disappear if the machine takes over too early in the process?
AI can now be used at every stage of the filmmaking process, assisting with scriptwriting, creating soundscapes or sets, and even de-aging characters.
This is a statement worth pausing on: "Every stage" is not a metaphor, but a precise description of where the industry stands in 2025. The open question is whether the human elements still support the building, or if we're starting to remove them one by one.
The most discussed topic at Cannes 2026 is artificial intelligence, and filmmakers, who previously prioritized traditional cinematic values, are now embracing innovation. The debate is no longer about whether to use AI, but how to use it effectively.
This semantic shift is crucial; moving from "should we use AI?" to "how should we use it?" marks the end of a phase of resistance and the beginning of a phase of negotiation.
Filmmakers who outright reject the tool aren't disappearing, but they no longer dictate the terms of the debate. It is now those who use it, with method and professional conscience, who set the tone.
What's happening at Cannes with AI is not fundamentally different from what happened with the transition to digital, with the advent of sound, or with Georges Méliès' first special effects at the very beginning of the 20th century.
Technology enters, disrupts, frightens, then integrates, often to the benefit of some and the detriment of others. But the real question, one that Cannes has never stopped asking in its 78 years of existence, remains the same: what remains human in what we tell, and why does it matter?
