The new campaign features an AI customer clone ‘to keep prices low’. But what is the real cost?
Everywhere I look at the moment, I see her. She lurks on The NZ Herald homepage, her digital grin jarring with the horror-filled headlines about Destiny Church protestors and missing women abroad. I open Instagram stories and she’s there too, beaming in a onesie against a green screen. Go and get some fresh air and she’s plastered all over the bright orange local dairy. There is simply no escaping the clutches of Liz, Skinny’s new AI-cloned representative.
Earlier this month, the 65-year-old from Kerikeri became the world’s first AI-generated customer-turned-ambassador. Plucked from hundreds of auditions, she spent 11 weeks being captured from head to toe – including full body scans and speaking “for three minutes straight over and over” – to be replicated using AI technology. “I love all my little AI-clones, I call them the ‘Skinnys’ and I am going to love seeing them pop up all over the place,” Liz told Stuff.
The ad begins with a 1970s-style newsdesk. “Breaking news, Skinny mobile has found a new way to keep prices low,” says Liz. “That’s right,” adds another Liz. “They’ve digitally cloned their happiest customer to make really cost effective ads.” Cut to the outside of the studio, where hundreds upon thousands of Lizzes are dancing while wearing orange velour jumpsuits. Above them looms a row of statues of giant hands, the fingers wrapped tightly around a smartphone.
My generous reading of the crowd scene is that it is simply a bit of digital fun, kind of like “Elf Yourself” or the time Deep Roy played 165 different Oompa Loompas in Tim Burton’s harrowing Willy Wonka remake. My cynical interpretation, what with all the orange jumpsuits and terrifying giant phone overlords, is that Liz is warning us. Could this be our future AI prison, where the only form of creative expression left is grapevining in unison with our clones?
It’s supposed to be a celebration, and yet something about this campaign feels unendingly bleak. Liz got paid a talent fee and won mobile credit for life, but that seems like a woefully inadequate reimbursement for handing over your entire likeness to a telecommunications company to flog phone plans for two years. And what about all the other talent, both in front of and behind the camera, who would otherwise bring something like this to life?
Even though it is hard to gauge how “AI” this ad actually is (social media footage shows Liz wearing a wig, which my dog could probably do with AI), many out there are similarly perturbed. “I’m a 3D artist so it’s literally impossible not to hate big companies who use AI for creative reasons,” someone wrote on Instagram. “Taking work away from copywriters, artists, graphic designers, film crews, editors, and most important the Queen herself, Liz!” said another.
More specifically, won’t someone think of the fragile comedian-advertising ecosystem here? For years, talented local comics have filled their coffers while lending their voices and faces to big campaigns like this. Where would Rhys Darby be without 2Degrees, David Correos without his Vodafone 4G morph suit? I’m only half joking here, but when every other week we lose a comedian to the UK or Australia, cloning people for two year ad campaigns hardly sweetens the outlook.
None of this is Liz’s fault, of course. She seems like a genuinely sweet lady who had a whale of a time throughout the process. “I looked really good. It was really exciting and a bit zany,” she told NZ Herald. “Anything that puts New Zealand on the map positively is worth it.” Even with 68% of New Zealanders concerned about the potential malicious use of AI and the lack of regulation, she’s comfortable with her decision: “to me, it is just a tool. That’s my take on it.”
Honestly, what makes me feel the most hollow are the grim AI aesthetics that are slowly poisoning the world. On Instagram I am met with AI baby versions of The Sopranos instead of my real friends, glassy-eyed in gold chains and polo shirts. I head to Facebook to check something in my local community page, only to find a former Real Housewife of Auckland utterly bereft at the world’s fakest AI video of a ripped firefighter gently nuzzling a charred wolf pup.
This is my own fault, but things have gotten far worse since I searched “skinny AI ad” to check something the other day. My For You page is now literally dripping with AI goop, including zombies made of pizza and horrible toothpaste Momo-people. The term “skinny” has also yielded a rich vein of weight loss and Ozempic content which my brain could really do without, including a skeletal AI cat called Mr Whiskers going to the gym to get shredded.
Returning to the world of the Skinny ad, we go from the grapevine prison yard back to the bright orange studio where anchor Liz reflects. “Wow, what a heartwarming story about a telco that will do anything to keep prices low and customers happy.” The camera zooms out to reveal the ad playing on a television screen in someone’s cosy lounge, all cross-stich on the wall, fringed lamps and vintage toys. “Wow, we are so happy,” Liz tells the camera from her couch.
Whether it’s the real Liz or not, we can’t be sure.
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