• Higgsfield AI made a sci-fi action thriller called "Hell Grind" starring AI actors.
• The movie cost around $500,000 to produce.
• I went to a screening to see how it held up.

For a brief moment toward the midpoint of the AI-generated film "Hell Grind," I caught myself experiencing something unexpected: genuine emotion.

As the male lead, Roco, gazed at a photo of his recently kidnapped love interest, he flashed back to memories of them growing up together in an orphanage. The sadness and yearning felt real.

The sensation didn't last.

Mid-flashback, Roco and his AI-generated costars began laughing in an eerily synchronized fashion, their eyes peeled wide open. As I sat in New York's Metro Private Cinema this week, scooping up handfuls of popcorn, the uncanny valley of AI came roaring back.

Generative AI has crept into a variety of corners of the entertainment business this year, spooking many creatives who worry what it could mean for their jobs. While post-production teams are turning to the technology for de-aging and other effects, some actors in short dramas are already losing out on roles to AI characters. The shift is a top concern for the actors' union SAG-AFTRA, which approved new contract language this week that pushes producers to bargain over the use of synthetic performers.

"Hell Grind," which takes AI usage to the max, sprang up in May at the Marché du Film in Cannes (a side event that's not the famous Cannes Film Festival). The brainchild of startup Higgsfield AI — which runs an AI platform for creatives, brands, and marketers — it was conceived as a way to show the tech's potential as more than just a tool for making short videos. The company, which crossed a $1 billion valuation earlier this year, spent around $500,000 to produce its 95-minute film, with much of its budget going to computing costs. While AI regularly shows up in bits and pieces of Hollywood productions, "Hell Grind" is the highest-profile film made entirely with AI-generated visuals.

Higgsfield tapped a group of in-house creatives and outside filmmakers who used highly specific text prompts (typically around 3,000 words) to generate around 100 hours of content, which was edited down. The company did not use AI to write the script, except for a few short filler moments, which Higgsfield's CEO, Alex Mashrabov, told me he thought were noticeably less effective in the film.

The result is a visually impressive movie with a passable plot line, landing somewhere between a video game and an effects-heavy project like "Planet of the Apes."

"It's a new workflow, and it's also very important for us so that we show to the world what's possible," Mashrabov told viewers at the screening this week. "The production process looks different where it's actually possible to go back and iterate with AI and deliver exactly the emotion which the creative director was envisioning."

The company is releasing portions of the film on YouTube and plans to open source its workflow, production process, and prompts in the coming weeks.

At various points during "Hell Grind," I was taken out of the story when a character did something that just felt … off. The way Roco held a slice of pizza in one scene looked like it was his first time encountering the food, for example. The synthetic children in the movie generally creeped me out, and the AI-generated voice work didn't always feel consistent (one character seemed to flip between a British and American accent, for instance).

Still, it was hard to shake off the feeling that talented AI prompters may soon be coveted players in Hollywood.

While I wouldn't expect to see AI actors or writers playing a big role in the making of films like "Tár" or "One Battle After Another," it feels like this technology will be hard to resist for budget-sensitive executives angling to speed up movie production. That's especially true in genres like action and sci-fi, where visual effects budgets can be a big constraint. And the technology may open doors for independent filmmakers who have grand ideas but small budgets.

"Budgets and opportunities are not equally distributed across the world," Mashrabov said. "Hopefully, this will spark the next generation of creativity."

• Drake dominated the Billboard 200 this week, debuting three new albums in the chart's top three.
• Drake has long been criticized for his more-is-more strategy, yet he continues to double down.
• The rapper has built a career that no longer requires fan approval or critical acclaim.

Three new albums, two and a half hours of music: Drake's latest strategy for chart dominance definitely paid off, even if his method for doing so feels less like a creative leap and more like a cheat code.

This week, Drake became the first artist in history to claim the top three spots on the Billboard 200 simultaneously: "Iceman," "Habibti," and "Maid of Honour" arrived at No. 1, No. 2, and No. 3, respectively, racking up the equivalent of 687,000 album sales in one week.

Drake had been expected to release the long-awaited "Iceman" — his first solo album since his explosive feud with Kendrick Lamar, which earned the latter multiple Grammy Awards and an opportunity to taunt Drake at the Super Bowl halftime show — on May 15. Instead, Drake did what Drake does best, and gave us far more music than we asked for. Alongside "Iceman," he surprise-dropped two additional albums with their own distinct moods. For those keeping score, that's 43 new songs released in a single day.

If anyone is keeping score, it's Drake. In the "Iceman" opener, "Make Them Cry," Drake admits that a "big piece" of him died in 2024, the year Lamar seared the scathing insult,"Tryna strike a chord, and it's probably A-minor" into the public lexicon. Now, it seems the piece of Drake that survived is living and breathing for one thing: cold, hard numbers.

Drake is one of the most dominant artists of the streaming era, rivaled only by Taylor Swift, and that reputation is reaffirmed again and again. Within 24 hours of his triple-album release, Drake broke the Spotify record for the most-streamed artist in a single day in 2026 (so far). Within minutes, he saw a 1100% increase in simultaneous listeners on Apple Music.

Drake wears these metrics like armor as he continues to clunk through the motions. When he won't stretch his artistic muscles or experiment beyond his predictable formula, they give him something to point to to protect himself from accusations of "falling off."

And Drake's quantity-over-quality strategy continues to work wonders in that department, at least on paper. But a closer look at the response from both critics and casual listeners reveals a hollow victory — and a man who's figured out that he doesn't need to be innovative or even particularly respected to enjoy the spoils of ubiquity.

Drake's new albums feel algorithmic, probably by design

After a decade of critically panned yet record-breaking albums, Drake himself seems bored by the routine: Nearly every song on "Iceman" features a mid-course beat switch, as if his producer is dangling a new toy in front of a distracted baby. Drake once boasted an unparalleled ear for hooks, earworms, and cheeky turns of phrase, making him a giant among hitmakers, a natural-born entertainer. Now, he sounds joyless, and his only trick is to keep our attention from wandering too far.

And why would he need to do anything more? Streaming numbers do not account for the listener's enjoyment, only their endurance — so in Drake's calculations, quality is incidental.

He admits as much in the "Iceman" track "B's On the Table," reciting listlessly, "I'm used to this, I'm numb to that / I know I just gotta adapt / Let's wait on your Spotify Wrapped." In "Make Them Cry," he brags about flooding the radio waves with "this new toxic shit I'm dropping."

Drake defaults to rapping about his radioactive commercial power, perhaps because it's the one version of success he respects.

In this way, Drake is the music industry's equivalent of a cynical tech founder. He flaunts the same ethos as an app developer who only cares about how much time the consumer spends on his product, not the quality of attention or whether it improves the consumer's life. In the words of former Google employee Tristan Harris, "The business model [is] to capture people's time."

Spending precious hours of my life listening to Drake's trio of new albums — half-listening, really, as I cleaned my apartment, went for a walk, and regularly paused to roll my eyes at clunky bars like "I'm doing my big one, you doing a little one / What kind of man are you? A middle one" — I was reminded of Netflix's long-suspected second-screen strategy, which supposedly encourages dumbed-down, repetitive dialogue so viewers who are multi-tasking or scrolling their phones can follow the plot.

Indeed, Drake has been rehashing the same two or three grievances for the bulk of his career, finding new ways to reiterate that he doesn't trust women, that he's got a lot of enemies, that fame is fabulously corruptive.

Still, Drake is savvy and talented enough to make a listenable album, or two, or three. "Iceman," "Habibti," and "Maid of Honour" aren't fresh or genius by any measure, but they're tolerable enough for most people to stream all the way through, whether they consider that time well spent or not. Mindless slop is addictive by design.

Only one metric matters in the Drake-verse

Several critics have argued that, especially at this pivotal moment in his post-feud career, Drake would have been wise to aim for one classic album — whittling down his demos and refining his vision into an airtight, unassailable tracklist that could stun his haters into submission. However, as Jayson Greene wrote for Pitchfork, "Drake has never been wise — or concise."

Critics have been complaining about Drake making too-long albums since at least 2016, when he released the polarizing 20-track opus "Views." Two years later, he doubled down with "Scorpion," a 25-track, 90-minute odyssey that caught a lot of flak for being overstuffed with filler.

So far, Drake has refused to take those critiques on board. His output has only become wider, not deeper. Compare that to someone like Swift, who chases capitalist glory but seems to equally value the evolution of her craft and her critical reception. When she was accused of "quality-control issues" after releasing a 31-track double album in 2024, Swift immediately channeled that feedback into its follow-up, 2025's slender 12-track beast, "The Life of a Showgirl." Whereas Swift openly cherishes her Grammy Awards as validation from her peers, Drake has dismissed the Grammys as irrelevant. He hasn't won a Grammy as a lead artist since 2019.

What does matter to Drake is that we're curious or skeptical enough to keep tuning in. Releasing three different albums as a kind of choose-your-own-streaming-adventure is just another way to court as many listeners as possible. In Drake's world, exasperated reviews and mean tweets are nothing compared to breaking another one of Michael Jackson's chart records.

Sure, social media may be loaded with podcasters calling Drake's vocal performance "lazy," YouTubers mocking the lyrics to "Shabang," and fellow rappers bemoaning that he "processes things like his frontal lobe [is] made out of jello," but in order to make those critiques, they all gave Drake more streams. It's all going according to plan.

• "The Mandalorian and Grogu" had the worst opening ever for a "Star Wars" release.
• Disney played it too safe, and the movie felt like an elevated episode of "The Mandalorian."
• "Star Wars" fans don't want TV when they go to the movies. They want big, original stories.

For the last seven years, Disney has been biding its time waiting patiently for the right moment to bring the "Star Wars" universe back to the big screen.

Over Memorial Day weekend, fans finally went back to theaters for the first "Star Wars" movie since the disappointing end of the Skywalker saga with "The Rise of Skywalker." And what they were rewarded with for their years of patience was the equivalent of a long episode of "The Mandalorian."

"Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu" brought in $167 million at the worldwide box office over the four-day holiday weekend, making it the lowest opening ever for a "Star Wars" movie. It did worse than 2018's Memorial Day weekend release of "Solo: A Star Wars Story," which brought in $168 million worldwide and went on to earn only $392 million worldwide in its theatrical run.

It's put Disney brass in a similar situation to 2019, when then-CEO Bob Iger declared that "Star Wars" movies were going on a "hiatus" after the release of "The Rise of Skywalker." That break led to a savvy pivot to the small screen, with "Star Wars" spinoff show "The Mandalorian" launching Disney's streaming service Disney+ in 2019.

Led by showrunner Jon Favreau, "The Mandalorian" leaned into the deep mythology of the franchise with a unique Western gunslinger aesthetic. It also introduced the world to Grogu, aka Baby Yoda, whose improbable cuteness helped make "Star Wars" a sensation for the first time since Disney reignited the fanbase with the theatrical release of "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" in 2015.

The show's success led to more live-action shows ("Obi-Wan Kenobi," "Andor," "Ashoka," "Skeleton Crew," "The Acolyte") that delved deeper into the "Star Wars" saga and were a satisfying feast for fanatics and casual fans alike.

Now, tasked with helming the return of "Star Wars" to the big screen, Favreau makes "The Mandalorian and Grogu" play like an extension of the beloved television show — and why would you head to theaters when you're used to getting your Mando fix at home?

All of which begs the question: Did Disney's pivot to TV kill "Star Wars" as we know it? Is the franchise no longer the gold standard for theatrical blockbusters?

'The Mandalorian and Grogu' felt like an extension of the TV show — not a full-blown theatrical event

Supersizing "The Mandalorian" into a feature film works on paper. It has the broadest appeal of any of the current "Star Wars" properties, and Favreau is a proven blockbuster hitmaker who's brought in box office coin directing movies like Marvel's "Iron Man" and live-action versions of Disney classics like "The Jungle Book" (2016) and "The Lion King" (2019).

But Disney and Lucasfilm seemingly didn't consider that "Star Wars" fans are a fickle bunch. Though fans love the nostalgic nature of a galaxy far, far, away, they're always craving something different. For every one fan who despises "The Last Jedi," there are two who love it for its big swings (or vice versa — such is the paradox of the fanbase).

Business Insider reached out to Disney for comment.

The fans weren't looking for "The Mandalorian and Grogu" to be an elevated episode of the beloved show, but that's what they got. Instead of Carl Weathers (RIP) giving Mando jobs, in the movie, it's Sigourney Weaver. And when the show gets nostalgic, it misses the mark. Watching the muscular son of Jabba the Hut (voiced by Jeremy Allen White), fighting alongside Mando against creatures that look eerily similar to the ones Chewbacca played on the chessboard in the Millennium Falcon (the floor they fought on even looked like a chessboard!) felt forced.

That's not to say the movie is a "Solo"-level disaster. The second half has a better pace and feels more cinematic, and the puppetry and stop-motion animation featured are some of the best the company has ever done, harkening back to its 1980s collaborations with Jim Henson on "The Dark Crystal" and "Labyrinth."

But the film's close ties to the show likely turned off those who didn't want to spend money on an IMAX-priced ticket to something they've been watching at home for years. This could be the start of a bigger problem for Disney: Like Pixar, Disney has programmed the "Star Wars" fan to settle for getting content outside of a movie theater. And there's only one way to stop that.

'Star Wars' fans are craving originality on the big screen

The lackluster opening for "The Mandalorian and Grogu" at the box office — by "Star Wars" standards, anyway — is disappointing, but the naysayers will get even louder if the movie underperforms in its second weekend in theaters.

This puts even more pressure on Disney to make sure its next "Star Wars" theatrical release, "Starfighter," is done right.

Directed by Shawn Levy ("Free Guy") and starring Ryan Gosling, the movie is a completely original story set five years after the events of "The Rise of Skywalker." That's all we know, and that's all we need to know!

Dangling a carrot of originality in front of "Star Wars" fans is essential right now, because they want to be challenged. If the success of "The Mandalorian" and "Andor" proved anything, it's that "Star Wars" fans will always show up — but they will show up and be loyal if the story being told expands on what they thought a "Star Wars" tale could be.

By iterating on an existing story, "The Mandalorian and Grogu" played it too safe. Fans want more daring, original stories; that should have been the biggest takeaway from the franchise's self-imposed hiatus. For "Star Wars" to get back to its theatrical glory, this is the way.

• Elon Musk has had a rocky relationship with advertisers since acquiring Twitter in 2022.
• Musk's X sued advertisers for allegedly violating antitrust law by boycotting the app.
• New SEC filings show that X's efforts to win back advertisers haven't led to a bonanza.

Elon Musk's attempts to win over advertisers have yet to spark a major recovery in ad revenue for X.

In 2025, ad revenue for X (formerly Twitter) reached $1.8 billion, up around 7% from 2024. That said, revenue was down 21% from 2023 and about 59% from 2021, the year before Musk took over Twitter and began alienating some brands with looser content moderation.

Here were the stats:

X's ad revenue figures were revealed in an S-1 filing by SpaceX, X's parent company.

Since buying Twitter, Musk's relationship with advertisers has been rocky.

In 2023, he told marketers who were skipping out on X ads that they could "go fuck yourself."

Musk hired an ad industry veteran, Linda Yaccarino, in 2023 to help woo marketers. Yaccarino previously ran ad sales at NBCUniversal.

The drama with the ad industry didn't stop, though.

A year later, X sued an advertising trade group, The World Federation of Advertisers, and some members, including CVS, Unilever, and Mars, alleging they violated antitrust law by collectively withholding ad spend. A judge later tossed out the suit, citing a lack of jurisdiction and X's failure to state a claim under the antitrust laws.

Yaccarino left the company in July 2025.

Last year, there was industry chatter that Musk's entry into politics may have helped X's ad prospects. As Musk took on a high-profile role in the US government, some advertisers began spending on X again. Ad industry insiders previously told Business Insider that they felt buying ads on the app had become a cost of doing business to appease Musk and his allies in President Donald Trump's White House. Musk left his role, and his relationship with the Trump administration has since become more muddled.

Advertising's centrality as a revenue source for X diminished in March 2025 after Musk decided to merge the app into his artificial intelligence company, xAI. The company's AI revenue is growing much faster than its advertising revenue, reaching around $1.35 billion in 2025, a 52% increase from the previous year.

With the decision to merge xAI into SpaceX earlier this year, advertising now accounts for just a fraction of the combined company's $18.7 billion in 2025 revenue.

That doesn't mean X has stopped trying to improve its ad products.

Last month, X announced it had revamped its ads business to integrate more AI tools. This month, X rolled out a new tool that uses AI to connect brands with creators that might be a good fit for their campaigns.