Hollywood was on edge. In late September, whispers of a tech giant's move threatened to upend the entertainment industry. OpenAI, led by the enigmatic Sam Altman, was about to launch Sora 2.0, a social media app tied to its video generator. But this wasn't just another tech release; it was a potential game-changer that left Hollywood scrambling. A major talent agency, catching wind of the news through industry gossip, was baffled. Why hadn’t OpenAI reached out directly? The agency took the initiative, sparking a series of talks that would reveal a startling pattern of mixed messages and questionable tactics.
But here's where it gets controversial... The initial discussions were anything but smooth. An agency executive involved in the talks described OpenAI’s approach as “purposely misleading.” The tech giant’s team, including CFO Brad Lightcap and Sora product lead Rohan Sahai, painted a rosy picture of an opt-in system that would safeguard intellectual property and likenesses. Hollywood, they assured, would be pleased with the improved safeguards. Yet, as agencies compared notes, a troubling inconsistency emerged. Some were told likenesses and intellectual property would both require opt-in; others heard the opposite. OpenAI’s messaging was, at best, chaotic.
And this is the part most people miss... WME, representing stars like Matthew McConaughey and Ryan Reynolds, was bluntly informed that their clients would need to explicitly opt out to prevent their faces and voices from appearing on Sora. The thought was absurd. “Imagine an agent calling a client to suggest they join Sora,” a WME partner recalled. “That client would likely fire their agent on the spot.” The partner pressed OpenAI: “With such a massive client roster, if they all opt out, what’s the point?”
By September 29, the day before Sora 2.0’s launch, OpenAI backpedaled slightly, claiming likenesses wouldn’t be used without permission. It was a partial victory for Hollywood, but the damage was done. The app allowed users to create content featuring copyrighted properties, leaving studios to individually flag what they didn’t want used—a clear overreach by Silicon Valley.
On October 3, Altman announced a shift to a quasi-opt-in system. But the strategy had already paid off. Sora briefly featured clips from recognizable franchises like Bob’s Burgers, Pokémon, and Grand Theft Auto, solidifying its position as the App Store’s top free option. “This was a calculated move,” the agency exec noted. “They knew exactly what they were doing by launching without proper safeguards.”
Here’s the real question: Was this a deliberate ploy to force Hollywood’s hand? Legal talks are now underway, with litigation looming. Hollywood, typically reserved, is pushing back. The Motion Picture Association, CAA, and UTA have publicly condemned OpenAI. Internally, frustration mounts over the opt-out process, which lacks a formal system and relies on a cumbersome takedown mechanism. Some execs are now hesitant to engage with OpenAI at all, fearing it shifts the burden of protecting intellectual property onto them.
Disney, in a sharp letter, asserted it wasn’t required to opt out to protect its rights under copyright law. Earlier this year, Disney, Universal, and Warner Bros. Discovery sued Midjourney for similar IP violations. “They’re flipping copyright on its head,” said Rob Rosenberg, a legal expert. “They’re creating a false narrative where the blame falls on rights holders if they don’t opt out.”
OpenAI’s approach, led by tech veterans like Varun Shetty and Anna McKean, has long been to seek forgiveness rather than permission. While ChatGPT generates billions monthly, Sora’s path is less clear. Its value hinges on generating recognizable content, a risky strategy that depends on studios’ willingness to license their properties.
But is this a partnership or a power play? Altman and Shetty frame Sora as a tool for “interactive fan fiction” and deeper fan engagement. Yet, Hollywood sees it as an adversary, not an ally. “How can you expect partnership when you’ve burned the bridge?” the WME partner asked OpenAI.
Agencies resent studios’ slow response to Silicon Valley’s encroachment. AI companies have trained on copyrighted content for years, leaving creators with little recourse. Had studios acted sooner, could they have forced AI firms to delete stolen content, as authors did with Anthropic? Now, studios are focused on defense rather than leveraging AI for new opportunities.
Here’s the bigger question: Can Hollywood strike a balance? Some studios might create standalone apps like Sora, while others may seek partnerships. But these interests often clash with agencies, leaving everyone in a precarious position. “If they sue, they risk cutting themselves off from future collaborations,” the WME partner noted. A rival exec was blunt: “Our clients expect protection. This situation is exposing critical issues.”
As Hollywood and OpenAI face off, the stakes are higher than ever. Will this be a repeat of the piracy battles of the early internet, or can both sides find common ground? The answer may shape the future of entertainment. What do you think? Is OpenAI’s approach fair, or are they overstepping? Let’s discuss in the comments.
