How I Faked My Life With AI (NOT WRITTEN BY AI)
Filmmaker Kyle Vorbach spent the past year living his dreams: he moved to LA; published a book; produced a podcast; released a solo album; put on an art show; presented a Ted Talk; was interviewed on TV and more. Thing is, he faked it all. Hence the title of his uproarious social-experiment-turned-documentary: How I Faked My Life with AI.
However: knowing the ‘how’ only raises more questions.
Were Vorbach’s dreams ever real to begin with? Is his life better or worse thanks to AI? Or, better yet, forget Vorbach. What should WE do with this life-changing tech? And what might it do to us?
AI, there’s the rub. Two unforgettable letters with the potential to burn out a reader within the very first line of an article. ¡AI, Caramba! But stick around, trust me: ChatGPT can’t come up with these jokes (yet). Yes, Artificial Intelligence is an inevitability in online discourse. Yes, it’s a battleground for polemics and a mine for gold rushers. Yes, it’s a specter that haunts our imagined futures. Yes, it’s here to stay.
And yes, it does raise serious issues. This feature-length version of Faked My Life—a twisty magic trick of a movie—premiered as part of the 2024 Tribeca Festival’s Spotlight Documentary section. Crowds were rapt. In each Q&A, hands shot up like fireworks—reminiscent of Ridley Scott’s final scene in The Martian. Full of my own conflicting emotions, I sat down with the film’s writer/director/star Kyle Vorbach and producer/AI expert Jeremy Boxer to explore their takeaways. To see what they gleaned from their year-long experiment. To see if they—and by extension, we—can put their insights to good use. Or to see if it’s already too late.
Are we about to be consumed by our own creation?
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How I Faked My Life With AI didn’t start out as a documentary.
As was the case in Reed Harkness’s moving doc Sam Now (2022), sometimes you start filming and an essential story emerges. Here’s how it unfolded for Vorbach:
1) A conflux of personal tragedy and career frustration ejects him from LA back into his childhood home. One more washed-up millennial.
2) Trying to maintain sanity, he uses AI to reconnect with far-flung friends via Instagram pranks—dressing up his dog, faking a pic with Ryan Gosling. Before long, innocent pranks become increasingly elaborate illusions.
3) The onscreen illusions lead him back to his original passion. His AI adventures evolve into a festival-ready short.
Enter Jeremy Boxer, an award-winning creative director, filmmaker and curator with a penchant for AI. A co-founder of the LA collective Friends with AI, he specializes in AI creativity and ethics. This guy knows his stuff. Exhibit One: his six+ years of creative roles with Vimeo. Exhibit Two: his current role with the visionary CogX Festival.
After programming Vorbach’s ten-minute marvel at CogX ‘23, Boxer poses a casual question, “So what else are you working on?” Vorbach offers a cheeky reply: “You know that film How I Faked My Life With AI? What if I told you I never stopped?”
That exchange led to a collaborative match made in heaven. Adding tech-savvy experiments to personal angst with a strong dollop of humor, Boxer and Vorbach spent their time turning ten minutes into a feature-length doc.
For Boxer, this was a no-brainer. “Kyle's short film provided an incredibly engaging and accessible explanation of AI concepts,” he recalls. “As someone passionate about increasing AI literacy, I was really impressed by how it demystified the technology for a general audience.”
With near scientific rigor, the pair put entertainment first. The result? From an accessibility standpoint, Faked My Life is one of the best explorations of artificial intelligence to date, both for those curious to learn more and alarmists who want to learn less. It’s also a crowd pleaser: like The Amazing Jonathan Documentary (2019), this film doesn’t just entertain, it keeps viewers guessing. And, best of all, it’s supremely intimate: a rare triple-threat that excites on cultural, structural AND personal levels.
The fact that Vorbach is likable is a major asset. Willing to lampoon himself while sharing vulnerabilities, he spends an entire year in-character, compellingly self-effacing even in his commitments to self-aggrandizement. His “perfect” life unfolds chronologically: from aimless loner back home to hyphenate-wunderkind in a wide-windowed Hollywood apartment. As his experiment evolves, so do the double-blind twists. The film’s goofiness is balanced by its attention to the effects of his intricate schemes on his closest relationships—and his rise to power / fall from grace is almost Godfather-esque.
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So where does the fake Vorbach end and the real Vorbach begin?
The human story behind the curtain is equally fascinating. As Vorbach describes it, “I created my own pocket dimension, a world strictly designed to reinforce my own beliefs, my own worldview, my own view of myself. I did this to such a degree that it fooled everyone.” As onscreen interviews with concerned friends attest, Vorbach’s fakery duped even loved ones. And to his own disbelief, the ruse held up all the way to his Tribeca premiere: because TF24 was willing to program the film under a misleading pseudonym, ‘Pandora’s Code,’ no one knew his secret until he revealed it himself.
At the premiere’s Q&A, the first question from the audience was “How’s your mental health?”
“We finished editing a week ago, so my identity is still coming back,” Vorbach laughs. Like so many involved with AI, his laugh is rueful. “I literally did not even post about this until the day before our premiere. So it sort of feels like waking up from a dream. I thought I was doing a social experiment on everyone else, but I realized I was doing it on myself.”
He shakes his head ... but he can’t shake the feeling.
“Making this movie without expressing myself the way I normally do, without sharing real moments or admitting to people I care about that this bit was completely fake— It felt like I was charging a Spirit Bomb, spending all this time preparing for one massive hit.”
For those who don’t know, the Spirit Bomb—a signature attack by Goku in Akira Toriyama’s hit manga/anime Dragon Ball Z—has a lackluster success rate. True, this risk-laden attack did finally manage to take down planet-destroyer Kid Buu; but its failed attempts far outnumber that one unexpected success.
Honoring his millennial roots, Vorbach turns to his producing partner. “Jeremy, are you good with that reference? Are you not caught up on Dragon Ball Z?” Now it’s Boxer’s turn to laugh, shake his head. “Good to know about Kid Buu.”
Perhaps Vorbach should’ve channeled more Dragon Ball Z: the life force known as Ki—a tangible energy inside every being that can be used to fight evil—might’ve helped him deal with those personal demons.
So why did he take such an enormous risk?
“I wanted people to see the worst possible version of what AI can do. And then move forward accordingly.”
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In terms of Vorbach’s success as a filmmaker, the risk of his social experiment seems to have paid off. In terms of AI and its inherent dangers, aftershocks linger—and fears of fake art and lost jobs remain. [See my article on Sora Shorts.]
“People are scared of losing storytelling, but I think that’s the thing we will be most secure in.” Vorbach is adamant. “It’s too hard to replicate the complexity of humanity. That is the battleground and that is our fortress.”
One of the onscreen voices in Faked My Life—Ian Cardoni, a voice actor and friend—echoes Vorbach. In fact, he’s even more direct than his director.
“The narrative on AI isn’t written yet,” he insists. “There’s an assumption of fear. When artists are asked about the threat of AI, the implication is that we’re on the chopping block already. I just reject that notion, entirely. I refuse to acknowledge that because we’re being asked about it, we’re replaceable. And I refuse to take that side of the table as a victim to a narrative that’s already been written by the premise of the question.”
Are AI alarmists projecting a self-fulfilling prophecy? Would we be better off framing our mindset around the successful embrace of new tech?
For Vorbach and Boxer, AI is more of a tool for democratization, more creative fuel than a substitute for process. As they are quick to point out, these tools take time to learn, they require human attention and careful editing.
“You don’t just push a button,” Boxer clarifies. “Kyle has done SO much work to make AI suit his needs that it’s kind of insane.”
Vorbach accepts the compliment. “Right now, using AI is like having a very dumb, very dedicated assistant,” he chuckles. “There was a scene cut from the movie where I tried to have ChatGPT write a joke for me. It had the structure down, but it took hundreds of tries to get anywhere decently funny.”
As he tells it, comedians needn’t worry for the moment—comic timing and situational humor aren’t yet skills that AI has been able to master. Instead, these Gen AI models are a jumping off point.
More important, he emphasizes, is old school craft.
“If you’re a person who wants to learn filmmaking, learn filmmaking. AI is not gonna get you there,” he asserts. “It won’t teach you composition, pacing, storytelling. These tools can help make you exponentially more productive, punch up shots you already have. If you’re just some dude with a DSLR, for example, now you can add a matte painting background for your sci-fi film in seconds, and it looks like a Hollywood film. Adobe will soon be releasing video tools that will allow you to erase background items or extend a shot for three seconds. But learn filmmaking first, then see how productive these tools can make you.”
Vorbach swivels his gaze to an imaginary audience.
“Start playing with the tools. Make them part of your existing ecosystem. Once you do, you’ll be less afraid. Just use them wisely: fire can be used to make you warm, and cook food ... or it can burn down your village.”
Sure, you don’t want to play with fire, but that’s the point: adapt consciously, recognize potential pitfalls and self-regulate, because the nabobs of capitalism—including Big Tech—won’t do it for you. Frankly, our fate depends on your choices.
After their year of experimentation, the two Faked My Life filmmakers have a nuanced, hopeful outlook.
“I think it comes down to optimism about humanity. Jeremy and I sometimes differ on that, but we’re not here as fearmongers,” Vorbach explains. “We want to help people feel empowered, to help them learn more. We’re at a turning point.”
Beyond storytelling and other art forms, Faked My Life addresses other uses for AI: in the medical field, for vaccines, for cancer research, for the Mars Rover, for self-driving cars.
“How can I argue with medical discoveries?” Vorbach grins helplessly. “Or those applications of machine learning as an accelerant that are potentially time-saving. Life-saving? We’re just scratching the surface in so many ways. We’d do well to remember, explosions explode in multiple directions. Yes, there’s fake news, but there are also scientific breakthroughs.
“It’s way more complicated than ‘AI bad.’”
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Despite all this optimism, one real downside still nags: the mental health crisis that already exists in relation to digital media is likely to multiply exponentially in a world with AI.
“We all have this weird extension of ourselves online, this façade. We’re already in a place where we’re questioning the authenticity of a lot of sources, even our own authenticity,” Vorbach muses. “In terms of mental health and our digital lives, we’ll have to reckon with this moving forward, just as I try to do in the film.” He sighs. “I wish I had a better solution.”
Given Big Tech’s willful lack of ‘duty of care,’ we don’t have many options—and given our lack of options, Vorbach still views his film as a cautionary tale. Especially on a personal level.
“When you film yourself for a year straight, you process feelings on-camera,” Vorbach confesses. “I began to realize that bad things happening to me in real life might be good for the movie. Which is a strange approach to life.” He lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “So right now it’s a relief: to be off-camera—finally!—and then suddenly realize ‘Oh, this is just something I’m dealing with as a human.’”
The whole experience has made him question his own authenticity.
“Did I think this fake narrative would make me happy?” He asks, still conflicted. “Zooming out a level further, do I think that this movie—a real narrative about a fake narrative—will make me happy?” A smile flashes as his thoughts race ahead, full Inception. “Then I zoom out again and realize there’s three versions of me: the real me, the AI me, and the me in the movie making the AI me. All with little degrees of separation between them.”
Much like a concerned parent, Boxer listens intently, then nods in agreement.
“Kyle and I have had many conversations about those three personas. The tricky part was keeping the integrity, the truth of what we were experiencing in real time, then making sure that that was the film’s driving force. And the film is still growing. Now that we’ve seen it with an audience, we have a deeper understanding of essential scenes we still need to add.”
Scenes they still need to add? You read correctly.
If there’s a complaint about the feature-length Faked My Life, it’s that it’s not a series. There’s simply too much fascinating material. “Honestly, the number one reaction we keep getting is, ‘This is almost too much for one movie,’” Vorbach shakes his head, exhausted. I nod back: this is almost too much for one article.
At present, Vorbach and Boxer are working on a new and updated cut of the film. As tech evolves in real time, new questions arise. So what topic has yet to be dealt with? Before the film is released publicly, he and Vorbach plan to explore the dangers of using AI for political ends.
Will they ever finish the film? I’d better finish this opus before we find out.
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Here’s where we stand now.
It’s commonly accepted that we live in a post-truth society. Books like Jonathan Rauch’s Constitution of Knowledge: In Defense of Truth disseminate strategies—i.e., checks and balances—that we can use to navigate propaganda and disinformation. But with the rise of AI, uncertainty rachets up: we now have what Boxer calls a “Post-Evidence” society, “where you can’t trust what you see and hear.”
Even worse, it’s getting harder to fight back. Brandolini’s law, also known as the “bullshit asymmetry principle,” is an internet adage that illustrates the disproportionate effort required to disprove misinformation versus the ease of creating it in the first place. For example, after the Boston Marathon bombing back in 2013, a rumor spread that one victim who had survived the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting had been killed in the bombing. Before this rumor could be disproved, it was widely circulated by reliable news sources. That’s the nature of propaganda: attention-stealing. It doesn’t matter if it’s dumb or outlandish—as long as it proliferates and distracts, it succeeds.
Boxer furrows his brow.
“People think they can spot an AI-generated image.’ What they aren’t prepared for is the scale of the fakery: when you can create an hour-long deep fake of Biden saying something crazy at a fundraiser, then back it up with a paper trail of 300 images from the event at different angles, confusion is going to increase. I worry what will happen to evidence in a courtroom: how will you be able to track what’s real?”
Even he has more questions than answers.
So— When you read about AI, what springs to mind? Data-Theft? Job replacement? Extra fingers? Untapped potential? Armageddon? Haley Joel Osment?
Whether it’s one or none of the above, How I Faked My Life With AI is a must-see. This film is both a social experiment and a roadmap—where humanity plays a key role in appreciating our present and defining our future. It’s also a well-timed opportunity: for introspection, for evolution.
“I believe that AI’s first benefit is that it’s really making us think,” Boxer argues. “We’ve never been challenged like this before—to justify our own role, our identity. Because AI is based on language, which we create and use to process the world, it's the closest, most parallel path that we have to our own understanding of life.”
Here, Vorbach and Boxer are in full agreement.
“The goal is to present the complicated nature of evolving tech, to temper hyperbolic arguments and level the playing field. To have a more human conversation.” Vorbach sighs. “Hopefully, that’s what comes out of our film. It’s a complicated feeling.”
There’s a pregnant silence, filled with contemplation, then Boxer chimes in. “When everybody has their own dimension, their own reality, what's going to happen to our shared reality? Will it still exist? The fact that we don’t yet know the answers to that question is something we need to be aware of.”
Put more simply, Boxer is referring to empathy. How will we communicate authentically and relate to one another with genuine feelings when all things are questioned?
Asking this question may be a good place to start.