Unwanted Ending

My grandfather, who passed away some years ago, loved movies. He owned stacks of LaserDiscs — expensive at the time. I discovered Star Wars in elementary school, on his TV. This was before streaming made movies effortless. When I tried to share the excitement at school, none of my friends had seen it.

Stable Diffusion changed still images. Sora changed video. Kling, Nanobanana. AI-generated footage now produces action that looks like real actors performing. The industry is shaken. Generated films, generated stories, generated characters. A fully automated future is visible on the horizon.

What comes next is personalized entertainment. The ending you want. The story you want. Your favorite characters in your preferred arc, arriving at your preferred conclusion. Experiences optimized for each individual. Once it's technically possible, the market will follow.

Of course, personalization won't cover everything. A friend recommends something. A trailer catches your eye. Your parents are watching something on TV. Unplanned encounters don't disappear. Life itself can't be personalized either. Illness, loss, failure. Reality teaches you what you can't control just fine.

But the experience of sitting through a two-hour story someone else chose — quietly, without skipping — that will shrink. Grave of the Fireflies tells you the ending in the opening scene. You watch it anyway. 5 Centimeters per Second — Makoto Shinkai's early film about missed connections — quietly betrays the audience hoping for a reunion. You can't stop halfway. You can't change the ending. There are emotions that only exist inside that friction.

The Star Wars I watched at my grandfather's house wasn't something I chose. He just liked it. But that experience is part of what made me who I am. Some things you could only encounter because you couldn't choose.