The True Cost of Personalised Content
In the near future, you may not choose a film from a library or head to the cinema. Instead, an AI system could create an entirely original movie for you in minutes, crafted to your taste, starring your favourite actors, set in worlds you love, paced exactly as you prefer, and ending in the way you find most satisfying. No one else would ever see the same version.
The technology to make this possible is already taking shape. AI can analyse years of your viewing history, learn your emotional triggers, and predict the kinds of stories you connect with most. Scriptwriting algorithms can create dialogue in your preferred tone, while visual engines can generate actors, sets, lighting, and effects instantly. The entire production, from first word to final cut, could happen in real time.
The financial implications are seismic. A blockbuster film today can cost hundreds of millions to produce, with huge teams of actors, crew, set designers, post-production specialists, and marketing departments working for years. Personalised AI films could be generated for pennies. There would be no physical sets, no location shoots, no editing suites, no need for catering trucks or sound stages. The supply chain that has supported filmmaking for over a century, studios, equipment hire companies, costume houses, cinema chains, could collapse almost overnight.
Without the need to appeal to global audiences, the blockbuster era would vanish. The business model built around box office records, mass advertising campaigns, and global premieres would no longer apply. In its place would be a focus on creating the most advanced personalisation systems possible, engines designed to deliver maximum emotional engagement for the individual.
The cultural consequences would be just as far-reaching. For as long as people have told stories, we have shared them. From myths told around a fire to the films everyone talks about on Monday morning, these moments have acted as a kind of social glue. If every person is watching something different, that common ground disappears. Conversations about “the latest film” no longer make sense when each of us has seen a different one.
And this won’t stop at movies. Music could be composed in real-time to suit your current mood, adapting as your energy changes. Books could rewrite themselves to suit your reading pace or shift in genre mid-story to match your interests. News could be presented in ways that fit your worldview, style preferences, and even your attention span. The result could be an endless loop of content that feels perfect for you, but also keeps you in a cultural bubble.
There’s a risk in that perfection. When every story is tailored to confirm your tastes and beliefs, exposure to different styles, ideas, and perspectives becomes rare. The breadth of shared cultural experience narrows. Over time, this could deepen the silos that are already forming online, reducing opportunities for empathy and mutual understanding.
Some counterforces may emerge. Live events, film festivals, and shared broadcast moments could become more valuable precisely because they are collective experiences. Creators may experiment with hybrid approaches, delivering unique, personal moments within a shared storyline so audiences still have points of connection. These might be the last remaining spaces where stories bring large groups together.
The lure of perfect personalisation is powerful. It promises entertainment that never disappoints and always feels relevant. But there is a trade-off. The shift could dismantle entire industries and take with it the shared narratives that help us feel part of something bigger. The question for the years ahead is whether the perfect film for one person is worth the loss of the stories that unite us all.
