The Sam Altman Movie Nobody Wants to Touch
I’m sitting in a coffee shop in downtown Los Angeles, scrolling through my phone, trying to wrap my head around something that feels both absurd and deeply revealing. Luca Guadagnino — the director behind Call Me by Your Name, Suspiria, and Bones and All — has made a biographical drama about Sam Altman, the CEO of OpenAI. And apparently, nobody in Hollywood wants to pick it up.
According to www.theverge.com, Netflix, A24, Focus Features, and Warner Bros.' Clockwork have all reportedly passed on distributing Artificial. Neon and Mubi are still interested, but the fact that the biggest names in prestige cinema are walking away from a Luca Guadagnino movie? That’s not normal. That’s a statement.
Let me be clear: this isn’t about the quality of the film. I haven’t seen it. Neither have you. But the fact that major distributors are avoiding a movie about one of the most powerful people in tech — during a time when AI is reshaping every industry, including their own — is kind of wild when you think about it.
Why Are They Running?
Here’s the thing: Hollywood loves a good villain biopic. Aaron Sorkin’s The Social Network made Mark Zuckerberg into a tragic, borderline sympathetic figure. The Big Short made Wall Street assholes entertaining. The Wolf of Wall Street — need I say more? So why is Sam Altman different?
I think it’s fear. Pure and simple. Netflix, A24, Focus Features, and Warner Bros. all have relationships with OpenAI or with companies that depend on AI. Netflix uses AI for recommendations. A24 has distribution deals with Amazon, which is neck-deep in AI. Focus Features is owned by NBCUniversal, which has its own AI initiatives. And Warner Bros.? They’re trying to figure out how to use AI to cut costs in animation and VFX.
Distributing a movie that paints Sam Altman in a negative light — or even a critical one — could jeopardize those relationships. It could make them look like hypocrites. And in a business where money talks louder than art, that’s a risk most studios aren’t willing to take.
The Art of Bending the Knee
Let me tell you a story. A few years ago, I interviewed a producer who worked on a documentary about a major tech CEO. The film was damning — whistleblowers, backroom deals, the whole nine yards. But before it could be released, the studio’s legal team got involved. They didn’t kill the project outright. They just made it “too risky” to distribute. The producer told me, “They didn’t threaten us. They didn’t need to. We all knew what would happen if we crossed them.”
That’s the world we live in now. According to www.theverge.com, the situation with Artificial is a clear example of Hollywood bending the knee to OpenAI. And honestly, it’s terrifying. Because if a director with Guadagnino’s reputation can’t get a movie distributed, what hope do smaller filmmakers have? What hope do journalists have, when they try to write critically about AI?
The Power of the Few
OpenAI is a private company, but its influence is staggering. Sam Altman has met with world leaders. He’s testified before Congress. He’s been on magazine covers. And he’s built a company that, for better or worse, is defining the future of how we work, create, and communicate.
But here’s what bothers me: we’re treating him like he’s untouchable. Like any criticism of OpenAI is a threat to progress. And that’s exactly how power works. It makes itself seem inevitable. It makes itself seem necessary. And then it makes itself seem impossible to criticize.
I’m not saying Artificial is a masterpiece. I’m not saying it’s fair. But I am saying that the decision to avoid it is a choice — and it’s a choice that tells us more about the state of our culture than any movie could.
What Neon and Mubi Know
Neon and Mubi are still reportedly interested in distributing Artificial. And I think that’s worth paying attention to. Neon is the studio that brought us Parasite, The Worst Person in the World, and Flee. Mubi is the streaming service that curates arthouse cinema. They’re both known for taking risks on films that challenge the status quo.
But let’s be real: they’re also smaller players. They don’t have the same corporate entanglements that Netflix or Warner Bros. have. They can afford to be braver because they have less to lose. And that’s the irony — the very companies that should be championing critical voices are the ones most afraid of them.
What This Means for the Rest of Us
I spend a lot of time thinking about how AI affects work and productivity. I’ve written about how ChatGPT can help you draft emails, summarize meetings, and brainstorm ideas. I’ve argued that AI tools can make us more efficient — if we use them wisely. But stories like this make me question the cost of that efficiency.
If we can’t tell stories about the people behind AI, if we can’t examine the power dynamics of a company that’s reshaping the economy, then we’re not just missing out on good movies. We’re missing out on accountability. We’re missing out on the kind of public conversation that democracy depends on.
I tried using ChatGPT to help me think through this article. I asked it to outline the arguments for and against distributing a controversial biopic. It gave me a decent list. But it couldn’t tell me why studios were scared. It couldn’t tell me what it felt like to be a filmmaker whose project was being ghosted by every major distributor. It couldn’t tell me about the quiet phone calls and the polite rejections that never make it into the press.
That’s the stuff that only human beings can write about. And that’s exactly what Artificial is supposed to be about.
The Irony of It All
OpenAI’s mission statement is to ensure that artificial general intelligence benefits all of humanity. But if the company’s CEO is so powerful that even a movie about him is too hot to handle, then who exactly is benefiting? And who’s being silenced?
I’m not saying every movie about a tech CEO should be a hit. I’m not saying Artificial deserves distribution. I’m saying that the process by which it’s being blocked should concern us. Because if we let fear dictate what stories get told, we’re all going to end up living in a world where only the safe stories survive.
And that’s not a future I want to work in.
What Happens Next
Neon and Mubi are still in the picture. Maybe they’ll pick up Artificial. Maybe it’ll premiere at a festival and find a smaller audience. Maybe it’ll be remembered as a footnote in Guadagnino’s career — a bold experiment that didn’t find its moment.
Or maybe — just maybe — this whole episode will serve as a wake-up call. Maybe it’ll remind us that power, whether in Hollywood or in Silicon Valley, needs to be questioned. That the best art often makes us uncomfortable. And that the stories we avoid are sometimes the ones we most need to hear.
I don’t know what Artificial is actually about. I don’t know if it’s good or bad. But I know that the silence around it is louder than any movie could be.
Originally reported by www.theverge.com. Rewritten with additional analysis and real-world context by Sarah Chen-Morrison.
