Editor’s Note: Any opinions expressed in City Voice articles are the authors’ own and do not necessarily reflect those of the City Voice.
I strive to be a non-conformer because Miles Morales told me, “Nah, I’mma do my own thing,” as he electrocuted Miguel O’Hara in a beautiful chaos of comic-styled sparks. I admire the beauty in everyone because I watched Nimona shapeshift effortlessly into different creatures, in fun rushes of pink splashes. I’ve shed the same tears I shed when my brother left for college because Katie Mitchell hugged her dad goodbye, mending their earlier divide painted effortlessly at the dinner table scene, with muted colors of wood contrasting the bright colors of phones.
Where the Robots Grow, a full-length film unknown to many, was made in 2024. I stumbled upon a video essay highlighting why this movie wasn’t just a 2.6 IMDb-rated film, because this movie showed the world that generative AI could make a full-length animated film. The film sends a warning that chills artists’ bones: AI is on its way to replace human creativity.
I beg to differ.
I solemnly believe that human artistry will never phase out of this world. It isn’t a penny, something I fumble with as it falls out of my wallet, tiny and insignificant. No, human artistry is the essence of humanity. It transcends language and connects cultures that couldn’t be more different.
Nothing is quite as particular as engrossing oneself in another world, visually and consciously. I talk to the characters, urging them to fight for their goals. Yet, my fixation on animated movies like Captain Underpants, Madagascar, and Hotel Transylvania a few years ago was once ridiculed. But George and Harold, being separated, metaphorically represented as two planets fading away, captivated my fourth-grade soul, acknowledging my fears of losing friends. The off-putting designs in Madagascar spoke to my horrific third-grade drawings, when I created my own original characters similar to Alex the Lion. I felt for Dracula, his somber face painted by the beautiful glow of the animated moonshine as he learned he had to let his daughter go, and I wonder how my parents would feel in his position. These films, callings from directors, have developed my identity today, something Where the Robots Grow fails to do.
When Into the Spider-Verse shook the world, everyone roared for its unique animation with superior storytelling. Movies like The Wild Robot, Nimona, Ne Zha 2, and The Mitchells vs. the Machines came in quick succession after. Here, the child-like awe I discovered so young reclaimed its throne. I could imagine myself running my hand through the gorgeous foliage painted in The Wild Robot. I feel Ne Zha’s angry fire, fighting oppression.
Youth has a new renaissance to experience. These animated movies have brought new stories that inspire and bring emotional tears to society—something that pro-AI executives cannot do.
I’m sucked out of these human revelries now as I’m confronted with reality: AI is inevitable. I’ve prepped myself for it, learning about working simultaneously with machines in medicine. I’m excited for what it can do there.
However, I’m sickened as metallic hands turn to animated film. No longer will the human spirit live on when I transport myself to these animated worlds. Instead, tired and formulaic algorithms will consume our minds. I won’t be able to feel the souls of the directors, writers, and artists. I won’t be able to learn why I’m human.
The Disney Renaissance, Sony Pictures’ revolutionary modern style, or DreamWorks’ bold step in mature themes, will never be forgotten. These eras shaped mine and many others’ identities. The day AI creates animated films for my children will shed tears in my heart, because while they may be gifted in technology and luxury, they’ll never have the luxury of raw, human connection in its most creative form. Thirty years later, with the emphasis on cutting costs, layoffs, and hustle culture, I beg for someone to continue the human touch to animated films, a transcendence we can never lose.
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