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AI Video, Copyright, and the Turning Point No One Wanted to Talk About

AI Video, Copyright, and the Turning Point No One Wanted to Talk About

19 February 2026

Paul Francis

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For years, artificial intelligence has been quietly absorbing the creative world.

Illustrators watched as models produced images in their style. Writers saw language models trained on books they never licensed. Voice actors heard digital replicas of their tone and cadence. Photographers discovered fragments of their work embedded in datasets they never consented to join.


Close-up of a person in a red and black spider-themed suit against a dark background, showing a spider emblem on the chest.
Photo by Hector Reyes on Unsplash

The arguments were loud, emotional and often messy. Creators warned that their intellectual property was being harvested without permission. AI companies insisted that training data fell within legal grey areas. Lawsuits were filed. Statements were issued. Panels were held.


But systemic change moved slowly.


Then Spider-Man appeared.


Not in a cinema release or on a Disney+ platform, but inside a viral AI-generated video created using ByteDance’s Seedance 2.0. Within days of its release, social feeds were filled with highly realistic clips showing Marvel and Star Wars characters in scenarios that looked convincingly cinematic. Lightsabers clashed. Superheroes fought across recognisable cityscapes.


And this time, the response was immediate.


Disney sent a cease-and-desist letter accusing ByteDance of effectively conducting a “virtual smash-and-grab” of its intellectual property. Other studios followed. Industry bodies demanded the platform halt what they described as infringing activity. Even the Japanese government opened an investigation after AI-generated anime characters began circulating online.


ByteDance quickly pledged to strengthen safeguards.


The speed of that reaction stands in sharp contrast to the drawn-out battles fought by independent creatives over the last several years. And that contrast raises a difficult but necessary question: why does meaningful pressure seem to materialise only when billion-dollar franchises are involved?



The Uneven Battlefield of Copyright and AI

The legal tension around generative AI has always centred on training data. Most AI systems are built on enormous datasets scraped from publicly available material. Whether that constitutes fair use or copyright infringement remains one of the most contested questions in modern technology law.


When the alleged victims were individual artists or mid-tier studios, the debate felt theoretical. There were court filings and opinion pieces, but not immediate operational shifts from the tech giants.


Now the optics are different.


Seedance is not accused of vaguely echoing an artistic style. It is accused of generating recognisable characters owned by one of the most powerful entertainment companies in the world. Spider-Man is not an aesthetic. He is a legally fortified intellectual property asset supported by decades of licensing agreements, contractual protections and global brand enforcement.


That changes the power dynamic instantly.


Where independent creators struggled to compel transparency around training datasets, Disney commands it. Where freelance illustrators waited months for platform responses, multinational studios can demand immediate action.


The issue itself has not changed. The scale of the stakeholder has.


What This Means for AI Video

AI video is still in its infancy compared to image generation, but the implications of this dispute could accelerate its regulation dramatically.


If platforms are found to be generating content too closely resembling copyrighted franchises, expect tighter content controls. Prompt filtering will become more aggressive. Character names will be blocked. Visual similarity detection tools may be deployed to prevent outputs that mirror protected designs.


In short, the open playground phase of AI video may end sooner than expected.


There is also another path emerging: licensing.


Disney’s existing billion-dollar partnership with OpenAI signals a model where AI tools are not eliminated but contained within approved ecosystems. Rather than preventing AI from generating Marvel characters altogether, studios may instead seek to monetise that capability under strict agreements.


That would create a bifurcated future for AI video. Corporate-approved generative systems operating inside licensing frameworks on one side, and heavily restricted public tools on the other.


Independent creators could once again find themselves navigating a more tightly controlled environment shaped by corporate negotiation rather than broad creative consensus.


The Transparency Question

One of the most significant unknowns in this entire situation is training data.

ByteDance has not disclosed what Seedance was trained on. That silence is not unusual in the industry. Most generative AI companies treat training datasets as proprietary assets.

But as legal pressure increases, so too does the demand for transparency. If studios begin demanding to know whether their content was scraped, regulators may soon follow.


For years, artists have asked for opt-in systems, compensation structures and dataset audits. If this moment forces platforms to adopt more transparent practices, it may indirectly validate those earlier demands.


It would be a bitter irony if the turning point for creator protection comes only once global media conglomerates feel threatened.


A Defining Moment for AI and Creativity

There is something symbolic about this dispute.


AI innovation has been framed as disruptive, democratising and unstoppable. Copyright law, by contrast, is territorial, slow-moving and rooted in decades-old legal frameworks. For a time, it appeared that generative AI might simply outpace enforcement.


But intellectual property remains one of the strongest legal shields in modern commerce. When AI tools move from stylistic imitation to recognisable franchise replication, the shield activates quickly.


This is not necessarily an anti-AI moment. It may instead be a recalibration.


The creative economy depends on ownership, licensing and consent. AI systems that ignore those principles are unlikely to survive prolonged legal scrutiny. The question is whether reform will apply evenly across the creative landscape or remain reactive to whoever has the loudest legal voice.


If the Seedance dispute leads to clearer boundaries, transparent datasets and fairer licensing models for all creators, it could mark a maturation phase for AI video.


If it simply results in selective enforcement that protects corporate assets while leaving independent creators in grey areas, the imbalance will persist.


For now, one thing is certain.


AI video has crossed from experimental novelty into serious legal territory.


And it took a superhero to force the conversation into the open.

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The Myth of Christmas Joy: How Advertising Shapes the Season

  • Writer: Paul Francis
    Paul Francis
  • Dec 22, 2025
  • 3 min read

Christmas often feels like it arrives already fully formed. The colours, the music, the emotions, even the expectations seem pre-loaded. Much of that comes not from tradition alone, but from decades of advertising that has quietly shaped what Christmas is supposed to look and feel like.


Three frosted bottles with red caps, adorned with festive wreaths and ornaments, set against a backdrop of colorful bokeh lights. Holiday mood.

This does not mean Christmas joy is fake. It means it has been curated.


Understanding how advertising influences the season can help explain why Christmas can feel magical one moment and overwhelming the next.


How Christmas became a marketing event

Christmas was commercial long before the modern era, but the scale changed dramatically in the twentieth century. As mass media expanded, so did the opportunity to link products to emotion.


By the mid to late 1900s, advertising had learned a crucial lesson: people do not just buy things at Christmas, they buy feelings. Togetherness, generosity, nostalgia, redemption, and belonging became the emotional currency of seasonal marketing.


Once those emotional associations were established, they began to repeat every year. Over time, repetition created expectation.


The emotional script adverts sell us

Most Christmas adverts follow a similar structure. There is a problem, usually loneliness, disconnection, or stress. Then there is a turning point, often a thoughtful gesture, a shared meal, or a gift. Finally, there is resolution, warmth, and togetherness.


The product itself is rarely the focus. Instead, it becomes the symbol that unlocks happiness.

This script works because it taps into real human desires. The danger is not the advert itself, but the quiet implication that achieving this emotional resolution depends on consumption.


Why adverts make Christmas feel higher stakes

Advertising raises the emotional stakes of Christmas by presenting it as a once-a-year moment that must be perfect. If this is the time when families reunite, problems heal, and joy peaks, then any disappointment feels heavier.


People are not just buying gifts. They are trying to live up to an idealised version of the season.


This can lead to pressure that shows up as stress, overspending, exhaustion, or a sense of failure when real life does not match the advert.



The nostalgia effect

Many Christmas adverts deliberately echo older imagery. Soft lighting, familiar songs, childhood themes, snowy streets, and slow pacing all reinforce nostalgia.

Nostalgia is powerful because it smooths over reality. It reminds people of how Christmas felt, not necessarily how it was.


When advertising taps into that feeling, it creates a longing that is difficult to satisfy in real time, especially when modern Christmas is faster, noisier, and more complicated.


When advertising stops reflecting reality

The problem is not that adverts show happiness. It is that they rarely show the full picture.

They do not show:

  • financial anxiety

  • family tension

  • grief or absence

  • exhaustion from work

  • the emotional labour of organising everything

This gap between representation and reality can make people feel isolated, as if they are the only ones not having the perfect Christmas.


Taking back a more realistic Christmas

Rejecting advertising entirely is unrealistic. It is everywhere. A healthier approach is awareness.


Once you recognise that much of the pressure comes from an external script, you can choose how much of it to accept.


That might mean redefining what a successful Christmas looks like. It might mean spending less, simplifying plans, or focusing on moments rather than outcomes.

The joy that lasts is rarely the kind sold in adverts. It is usually quieter, smaller, and less photogenic.


Christmas advertising did not invent joy, but it did package it. The myth is not that joy exists, but that it must look a certain way.

Real Christmas joy is allowed to be imperfect. It can be tired, gentle, improvised, and still meaningful. And it does not need to match an advert to be real.

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