Smoke Gets in Male Gaze: Tilly Norwood
- Sofia R. Willcox

- 5 hours ago
- 4 min read
November 30, 2022, was a lifetime-defining moment: the day ChatGPT was publicly released. The access can be limiting due to age, organisational blocks or even geographical. It marked the beginning of the Artificial Intelligence invasion.
AI quickly captivated the world, replacing human effort and creativity in parts of the job market, while others embraced it as a productivity tool. From the stories told in front of the cameras to the work happening behind the scenes in filmmaking, its presence kept growing and even became an agenda item addressed during the Hollywood strikes in 2023. By 2025, the industry took another step forward with the debut of an AI Hollywood star, Tilly Norwood.
Tilly Norwood's debut
Tilly Norwood was introduced at the Zurich Film Festival in September 2025. She was created by the Dutch writer, comedian, actress, and producer Eline Van der Velden through the company Xicoia. Reception toward the new actress was largely negative, but she currently holds 66.6K followers on social media. Some say her survival relies on that following, regardless of the artificial intelligence hype. For film studios, AI actors represent a potentially much cheaper and more controllable alternative to human performers.
The Birth of an AI Star
Tilly Norwood was designed to resemble a blend of several well-known actresses, raising questions about originality. Others allege that specific likenesses or mannerisms were copied, sparking ethical concerns about using human performers, living or deceased, without consent. Her creator, however, insists that Tilly was developed entirely from scratch and denies using any particular performer’s likeness.
Yet in order to create, there always needs to be a repertoire; there does need to be a real woman to exist. Art or threat, it always has a muse.
Many drew parallels with the 2024 body horror film The Substance, in which Demi Moore plays a middle-aged TV host who uses an illicit drug to temporarily create a “better” version of herself—a dark satire on society’s obsession with youth and beauty, on women costs and the profits derived from it. Tilly’s creator, meanwhile, defends her creation as a legitimate work of art.
A Smoke Gets in Male Gaze
Tilly Norwood is widely seen as the creation of Eline Van der Velden. But if the creator had been a white, cisgender, straight man, would its narrative have been framed as an achievement and reception be different? Women make up roughly 28–29% of the global STEM workforce. Was Van der Velden truly the creator, or a scapegoat token to fit the collective (a)wake culture?
Tilly Norwood was designed by men for men: no ego, easily controlled, manipulated, and exploited. Her Eurocentric, slim, and young appearance speaks volumes.
When the Classic Remains Contemporary
Another parallel often overlooked is Alfred Hitchcock’s 1958 thriller Vertigo. The film follows retired detective Scottie (James Stewart) as he investigates Madeleine at the request of a wealthy friend, Gavin Elster—of course, with a Hitchcockian twist.
Nearly seven decades later, Vertigo is still celebrated for its innovative techniques, psychological depth, and influence on cinema. Yet Hitchcock’s mistreatment of women, as claimed by actresses themselves, and his use of the male gaze are part of the film’s enduring conversation.
The film presents three types of female characters: Madeleine (Kim Novak), the elegant, ethereal ideal; Judy (Kim Novak), the real woman with her own feelings and agency; and Midge Wood (Barbara Bel Geddes), a motherly figure. Together, they symbolize the path of white women in the late 1950s, navigating the transition from domestic roles to the workforce.
Like the women in Vertigo, Tilly Norwood embodies society’s idealized vision of femininity: designed, curated, and controlled. Meanwhile, real women continue to fight for equality, (r)exist, and challenge collective narratives.
Ex Machina, Ex Humans
After nearly a century in the movie industry, replacing human actors with AI—whether to democratize access, reduce costs, or speed up production, carries risks. Performance is about giving life to stories, and stories are the backbone of humanity.
Ex Machina (Alex Garland, 2014) questions what it means to be human when artificial intelligence gains autonomy. The introduction of performers like Tilly Norwood forces us to consider what is lost when human creativity is mechanized.
Mechanizing art threatens the unique connections and iconic moments that human acting provides. Machines cannot capture the nuance, spontaneity, or emotional depth of live performers. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, the body is the front door to feeling. Acting conveys emotion and empathy regardless of barriers, while AI relies on its cold, technological apparatus incapable of forging human connection.
The rise of AI voice and body actors raises questions about authenticity and cultural connection. Replacing human voices with AI could reshape how audiences relate to media, and, by extension, to their own communities and culture.
How Does AI Manipulate the Human Ear?
AI learns from massive datasets, analyzing patterns in human voices. It can replicate familiar sounds—or generate entirely new compositions, so convincingly that listeners perceive them as authentic, even when they are fully synthetic.
Once trained, AI can mimic a specific voice or musical style with uncanny precision. It tricks the brain: familiar auditory cues trigger emotional and cognitive responses just like real human sound. We feel, remember, and judge these sounds as genuine. A similar principle applies to visuals, where AI-generated images or deepfakes can elicit perceptual and emotional responses, though the effect depends on the realism and context.
Over time, our brains may adapt, but this makes us vulnerable to confusion, emotional manipulation, and even false memories.
In an increasingly automated world, how far are we willing to sacrifice human expressiveness for efficiency? Could a voice or a human body one day be replaceable? The fear is real and timeless. Can a machine ever truly tell a human story? And that’s not even considering the environmental impact of AI and the massive data centers it relies on. Finally, in this story of creation, who is Frankenstein—the monster or the doctor?




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