Intangiblia™
Plain talk about Intellectual Property. Podcast of Intangible Law™
Intangiblia™
This Film Has Been Legally Modified: IP Plot Twists Behind the Silver Screen
Courtroom battles are reshaping the film industry in ways that affect everyone from A-list stars to streaming subscribers. When Scarlett Johansson sued Disney over Black Widow's simultaneous streaming release, she wasn't just fighting for her paycheck—she was challenging how talent gets compensated in the digital age. The resulting alleged $40 million settlement forced studios everywhere to rewrite contracts with streaming contingencies.
Meanwhile, across the globe, Nigerian filmmaker Femi Adebayo made history with a judgment against digital pirates who cleverly misused his film's promotional materials. His three-year legal fight established crucial precedent for Nollywood creators and signaled that copyright protection extends beyond Hollywood's borders.
Technology continues to create fascinating legal disruptions. When Quentin Tarantino announced plans to auction Pulp Fiction NFTs, Miramax quickly filed suit, arguing his 1993 contract never contemplated blockchain tokens. Though they settled privately, the dispute highlighted how decades-old agreements struggle to address technologies that didn't exist when the ink dried.
The most provocative developments involve artificial intelligence. Buenos Aires prosecutors are challenging their own government for failing to regulate AI systems that clone faces and voices without consent, framing digital identity as a constitutional right. Simultaneously, Chinese courts ruled that images created with AI tools can receive copyright protection—but only when significant human creativity guides the process.
From Japanese courts imposing record penalties against "fast movie" channels that condense films into unauthorized summaries to European judges limiting what information YouTube must share about copyright infringers, these cases collectively demonstrate that intellectual property law isn't just legal background noise—it's the script determining who controls the stories we love.
Whether you're creating content, distributing it, or simply enjoying it as a fan, understanding these shifting legal frameworks provides a fascinating new lens through which to view your favorite films. Subscribe now to explore more intersections of creativity and the fine print that governs it.
There's always a script. Sometimes it's written by a screenwriter, sometimes by a lawyer and sometimes by a machine that doesn't sleep. In this episode, we rewind the reels, not to the plot twists on screen, but to the plot twists in court, because behind every blockbuster, indie, darling or viral stream, there's a contract clause, a trademark spat or an AI glitch waiting to go full drama. Forget deleted scenes these are the ones they wish you'd.
Speaker 2:You are listening to Intangiblia, the podcast of intangible law playing talk about intellectual property. Please welcome your host, leticia Caminero.
Speaker 3:Welcome to Intangiblia, the podcast where creativity meets the fine print. I'm Leticia Caminero. Welcome to Intangiblia, the podcast where creativity meets the fine print. I'm Leticia Caminero.
Speaker 1:And I'm Artemisa, coded clever and deeply into director's cuts of lawsuits.
Speaker 3:This episode was created using AI tools, including Artemisa. Here, though, no faces were deep-faked in the making of this podcast. Yet, and since the Cannes Film Festival is happening right now, we couldn't resist. While stars climbed the palais steps and auteurs chased the palm door, we're rolling out a different kind of film feature, one where the action happens in courtrooms, not on screen, because behind every premiere there's a paper trail, behind every red carpet, a rights dispute.
Speaker 1:From Nollywood to Netflix, Tokyo to Buenos Aires, we're unspooling the cases that kept studios up at night.
Speaker 3:So if you've ever stayed for the end, credits this episode's for you.
Speaker 1:We're all legal, let's begin.
Speaker 3:We start not with a bang, but with a contrarian and a superhero In 2021, marvel fans were lining up to see Black Widow. For some that meant theaters, for others the couch and Disney Plus Premier Access. Same film, different ticket. But for Scarlett Johansson that release strategy was a breach, not a bonus.
Speaker 1:It was like Natasha Romanoff took down Thanos, only to get blindsided by the fine print. Here's the twist Scarlett's contract gave her a chunk of the box office profits, but when Disney dropped Black Widow on streaming the same day it hit theaters, her cut shrank faster than a Marvel runtime, with no post-credit scene.
Speaker 3:Her lawsuit argued that Disney intentionally sabotaged the theatrical release to drive up Disney Plus subscriptions without renegotiating her deal. A bold accusation and an even bolder public clapback from Disney, who called her lawsuit callous during a pandemic.
Speaker 1:Oh, they went full corporate villain and it backfired spectacularly. Support flooded in from industry, unions, fellow actors and fans who saw this not just as a paycheck squabble but a much bigger fight about streaming era accountability.
Speaker 3:And it wasn't just about Johansson. This lawsuit tapped into a larger industry reckoning. If A-list stars can't protect their back-end deals in the age of streaming, who can? Can't protect their back-end deals in the age of streaming?
Speaker 1:who can Is illegal meat. The heart of the dispute Was contract interpretation. In a market disrupted by tech, the term theatrical release had always meant one thing until 2020. Rewrote the rules.
Speaker 3:The case never made it to trial. Disney and Johansson settled for a rumored $40 million zero cents, and they've since patched things up. She's even working with them again on future projects, but the impact permanent.
Speaker 1:Studios now bake streaming contingencies into contracts, contingencies into contracts. Actors, producers, even directors, are asking what happens when the screen gets smaller, but the stakes get bigger.
Speaker 3:So, while Natasha may be gone from the MCU, Johansson's legal move added a new superpower to the Hollywood playbook contractual foresight.
Speaker 1:Forget capes. Read your clauses.
Speaker 3:From Hollywood's red carpet to Nollywood's digital trenches in 2020,. Survival of Jalili, a Yoruba language comedy film starring Nigerian powerhouse Femi Adebayo, hit Netflix. The movie was a sequel, a crowd pleaser and a hit across the diaspora. But not long after it started trending, another channel started cashing in.
Speaker 1:Enter Aforavo TV, a YouTube channel that played it sly. They didn't upload the full film, no, instead they dangled the trailer, used the poster, branded it like the original and redirected audiences to fake links, racking up views, traffic and ad revenue.
Speaker 3:It was the digital version of a now golf DVD cover, and in a streaming economy that's not just annoying it's lucrative piracy.
Speaker 1:So Adebayo sued and he didn't just sue for takedown, he sued for damages.
Speaker 3:The case scrolled through Nigeria's courts for three years, but in 2024, it made history. Adebayo won $25 million in damages roughly $60,000 USD and a full injunction against the channel.
Speaker 1:The judgment wasn't just about him. He called it a win for all Nollywood. Because it signals something new digital deception has consequences, and Nigerian filmmakers are now filing claims citing Adebayo's case as precedent. It wasn't just a ruling. It was a signal to every channel peddling pirated content in sleek packaging.
Speaker 3:For creators around the world. The lesson is clear Copyright isn't just for Hollywood, and legal tools are becoming more accessible if you're willing to use them.
Speaker 1:So next time someone slaps your poster on a bootleg trailer to steal your traffic, channel your inner Jalili and lawyer up.
Speaker 3:Now for a case with a twist. Even Tarantino couldn't have scripted it better. In 2021, the cult director announced something bold he would auction off Pulp Fiction NFTs fragments of the original screenplay handwritten with exclusive voice commentary it was vintage Tarantino cool, confident, slightly chaotic.
Speaker 1:but there was one problem Pulp Fiction didn't belong entirely to him.
Speaker 3:Miramax, the studio that financed and distributed the film back in the 90s, said excuses. They stood claiming Tarantino's NFT stand violated the rights to the film, especially the bit of it works.
Speaker 1:This wasn't just a squabble over swag. It was the first major legal brawl over NFTs in the film industry. Tarantino argued that his 1993 contract gave him the publishing rights to the screenplay. Nfts, he said, were just a new way of publishing. Case closed.
Speaker 3:Not quite. Miramax saw NFTs as merchandise, derivative, commercial and, crucially, not covered in the original contract because, well, blockchains weren't a thing yet this is where IP law stumbles over time travel.
Speaker 1:The contract was signed in a pre-digital age, but the tech exploded decades later. So the court had to ask is an NFT a book, a collectible or a brand new beast?
Speaker 3:Before a ruling could drop, the parties settled out of court in 2022. Terms were confidential, but here's what we do know. Miramax is now actively exploring NFTs of its own library, so it seems they realized there was something worth fighting for.
Speaker 1:This case lit up Hollywood legal teams. Studios rushed to rewrite contracts. Artists got a new warning Just because you created it doesn't mean you can mint it.
Speaker 3:And the conversation expanded beyond film. Musicians, authors, even comic book creators started coming through old contracts to see what rights they actually held in this new digital economy.
Speaker 1:In the end, Tarantino didn't just tokenize Pulp Fiction. He tokenized a moment when film met blockchain and copyright lawyers everywhere got nervous.
Speaker 3:Lesson if you're planning to auction your script in JPEGs, make sure the studio isn't holding the receipt. Let's jump to 2024, buenos Aires. No Hollywood studio, no blockbuster name, just a quiet legal earthquake shaking the foundations of identity and AI.
Speaker 1:The premise Classic sci-fi, except this time it was real. Upload a selfie and a website could clone your face, feed it a few lines of text and suddenly your voice, your actual voice, was narrating something you never said Sounds fun until it isn't Argentina's public prosecutor thought so too.
Speaker 3:They filed a class action lawsuit, not against a specific AI company, but against the Buenos Aires government itself for failing to regulate the platforms enabling this digital mimicry.
Speaker 1:It's a bold move and it reframes the conversation. Instead of chasing every website, they aimed higher, demanding systemic regulation to protect citizens' likeness, voices and identities in the face of rapid tech.
Speaker 3:The case raised big questions. Can your voice be copyrighted? Is your face part of your IP? When does a synthetic version of you become a legal violation?
Speaker 1:And the trigger wasn't just theoretical. In Argentina's growing film and ad industry, these AI tools were already being used to dub actors, simulate cameos, even resurrect long-gone celebrities, all without consent Unions started speaking up, media ethics watchdogs chimed in For once.
Speaker 3:Lawyers, artists and activists were all on the same side.
Speaker 1:Here's where it gets even more interesting. Argentina's legal system recognizes personal image and voice as part of the right to identity, a constitutional right. So AI impersonation potentially unconstitutional.
Speaker 3:The case is still unfolding, but it's already influenced legislation drafts. Politicians are calling for AI, transparency, labels, consent protocols and liability for unauthorized clones.
Speaker 1:While Hollywood debates whether dead actors can star in sequels, Argentina is asking a bigger question Do you still own your image when the machine can steal it in seconds?
Speaker 3:This isn't just a local story. It's a global test case for how identity and IP converge and in a world of generative everything. It's only the beginning.
Speaker 1:Because, in the end, what's more intangible than your own voice? Now?
Speaker 3:Germany In 2020, a case reached the Courts of Justice of the European Union, the JEU, that posed a deceptively tricky question. When a user uploads a pirated movie, what information do right holders have the right to know?
Speaker 1:The setup. Constantin Film, a German distributor, had two of its titles, scary Movie 5 and Parker, illegally uploaded to YouTube. Standard takedown done, but Constantin wanted more. They wanted to find the uploaders.
Speaker 3:So they asked Google for the email addresses, phone numbers and IP addresses behind the accounts, but YouTube pushed back Under EU law. They said platforms are only required to share the name and address of the user, not everything else. Which?
Speaker 1:led to the existential tech law question. Does address include a digital one?
Speaker 3:The CJEU said no, no. In a firm ruling. The court clarified that address refers to physical postal addresses, not email, not IP, not digital breadcrumbs. The ruling reaffirmed the EU's strong stance on personal data protection, even in the context of copyright enforcement of copyright enforcement.
Speaker 1:So basically, YouTube could say sure, here's their username in a PO box if they gave us one, which means copyright holders hit a wall if users hide behind anonymity and, legally, platforms don't have to help them get around it.
Speaker 3:This cast a ripple across Europe's creative sector. Some call it a blow to enforcement. Others praise it as a win for online privacy.
Speaker 1:And, let's be honest, it's a classic IP tension protecting authors versus protecting users and this time the privacy side took the lead.
Speaker 3:But the ruling also invited governments to act.
Speaker 1:The court basically said if you want broader disclosure rules, you'll need to pass better laws, which is what several EU countries are now trying to do, drafting legislation that balances copyright claims with GDPR protections A tightrope walk in stilettos.
Speaker 3:So, yes, a case about scary movie five might sound like background noise, but it underscored a much louder truth that enforcement without access is just a beautifully worded frustration.
Speaker 1:Or, as YouTube might say, comment below, if we can find you.
Speaker 2:In Tangiblia, the podcast of intangible law plain talk about intellectual property.
Speaker 3:In 2023, a stylish digital poster started making waves in China's film design circles. It depicted a poised woman with a dramatic, cinematic vibe sleek, atmospheric the kind of image you'd expect on a Cannes promo wall. Only it wasn't painted or photographed. It was generated using stable diffusion, an open source AI tool trained on mountains of visual data.
Speaker 1:So who gets the credit or, more importantly, the copyright? That was the question when the image created by an artist known online as he was reposted without permission on Baidu, a content platform owned by Baidu, china's search engine.
Speaker 3:He is hood, and at the core was a fierce debate Can an image partly created by AI be protected under copyright law, or is it just a fancy remix from a machine that no one owns?
Speaker 1:The Beijing Internet Corps ruled in favor of the artist. They said yes because while the AI generated the pixels, the creative decisions behind the prompt, the selection and post-processing came from a human, and that, they said, was enough for protection.
Speaker 3:The Corps didn't treat the AI like a co-author. It treated it like a tool, just as a camera is to a photographer or a brush to a painter.
Speaker 1:That ruling was China's first legal recognition of human-guided AI art as copyrightable, and it lit up Weibo Douyin and the Chinese creative industry with debates, hot takes and cautious optimism.
Speaker 3:It also pressured platforms like Baidu to revisit their reposting policies, because now AI Made isn't a free-for-all anymore.
Speaker 1:And film studios. They were watching. This case cracked open legal doors for concept artists, vfx teams and marketing creatives, who are now using AI to design everything from costumes to teaser posters.
Speaker 3:But the ruling came with nuance. If AI does everything, no human selection or editing it likely isn't protected. So the line is delicate.
Speaker 1:Creativity must still be human driven, which is poetic. Right In the age of machine imagination, the law is still clinging to the spark of human intent.
Speaker 3:In short, if you feed the machine and shape its output, the result might be yours, but if you're just pressing generate, don't expect a judge to call you an artist.
Speaker 1:Or to put it more bluntly copyright law still needs to fill your fingerprints.
Speaker 3:In 2021, japanese copyright lawyers found themselves watching movies really fast. Not by choice, though. A viral trend called fast movies had taken over YouTube. Users were posting heavily condensed versions of full length films. Condensed versions of full length films edited down to 10 or 15 minutes, complete with narration subtitles and spoiler pack summaries.
Speaker 1:It's like binging the entire plot of Parasite while waiting for your ramen to boil. The problem these weren't reviews or parodies. They were unauthorized edits clipped directly from the original films and repackaged for clicks, spoil the film, rack up millions of views and collect ad revenue.
Speaker 3:Japanese studios already sensitive to piracy had had enough. In 2021, tohye Tonikatsu, two of Japan's major film houses, filed criminal charges against three individuals behind these channels.
Speaker 1:Yes, criminal, not just civil, claims for damages. In 2022, the court issued the harshest piracy penalty in Japanese film history 500 million yen in damages, that's over 3,500,000 USD per person.
Speaker 3:To put it in perspective, they didn't upload full movies, but the court ruled that these digest edits undermine the value of the original work, dissuade people from watching the full film and deprive studios of revenue and control.
Speaker 1:And unlike Hollywood, where fair use often gives room for criticism or commentary, Japan's copyright law is strict. If you're using copyrighted content, you'd better have permission or prepare to empty your wallet.
Speaker 3:And after the ruling, fast movie uploads disappeared. Almost overnight, youtube started flagging these formats aggressively. Film distributors across Asia uploaded the court's decision.
Speaker 1:And critics Mixed reactions. Some called the penalty excessive. Others said it was about time digital piracy was treated like the industrial theft. It really is.
Speaker 3:It also raised a cultural question. In a world where short form content is the norm, what does it mean to own a narrative? When does summarizing become stealing?
Speaker 1:Wall alert. The law's opinion is clear. Clip it, narrate it and profit from it. Without a license, you might be starring in your own courtroom drama.
Speaker 3:The lesson from Japan. Fast movies make for fast lawsuits, and justice moves just as quickly when studios want their cut. This begins in Seoul 2020. The world is mid-pandemic. A Korean film titled Alive drops on Netflix the premise A gamer trapped in his apartment during a zombie outbreak, clinging to Wi-Fi and hope. It's tense, stylish and soon trending across borders.
Speaker 1:Now jump cut to Los Angeles. The Hollywood Innovation Group, an American company, had already acquired the rights to adapt the exact same screenplay into an English language film they made alone, which also came out in 2020.
Speaker 3:Here's the issue. Netflix, which had the global distribution rights to Alive, dubbed the Korean film into English and released it internationally. Suddenly Alone wasn't the edgy exclusive remake. It was a film that looked like a copy.
Speaker 1:Except it wasn't. Higg sued Netflix, claiming that their English dub of Alive infringed on Higg's exclusive right to create the English language adaptation exclusive right to create the English language adaptation.
Speaker 3:The heart of the case, whether dubbing a foreign language film into English constitutes creating a new derivative work or whether it's just another form of distributing the original.
Speaker 1:Netflix argued we license the full rights from the Korean producers, including all audiovisual formats. Dubbing that's distribution, not adaptation.
Speaker 3:It is said not so fast. In their view, any version in English, even a dub, failed under their exclusive adaptation contract.
Speaker 1:The lawsuit made waves. It exposed a tricky fault line in IP contracts, especially in the streaming age, because once films go, global rights get sliced and diced by language, territory, format and sometimes, assumption.
Speaker 3:We don't have a public judgment. Most signs point to a quiet dismissal or settlement, but the industry took note.
Speaker 1:Now studios and streamers are drafting much tighter language around dubbing rights. Acquired dismissal or settlement. But the industry took note. Now studios and streamers are drafting much tighter language around dubbing rights. English version can mean many things Voiceover, subtitles, full remakes. You better spell it out.
Speaker 3:And for international filmmakers. There is a growing awareness that global reach means global risk. What plays in soul can spark lawsuits in LA.
Speaker 1:Moral of the story when it comes to language rights, clarity isn't just kind, it's critical.
Speaker 3:Especially when zombies are involved.
Speaker 1:Copyright. Doesn't sleep, not even in an apocalypse.
Speaker 3:So what did we just witness? Eight IP battles, each one a different genre a superhero contract thriller, a Nollywood Parasite courtroom drama, a blockchain noir starring Quentin Tarantino, an AI identity horror flick out of Buenos Aires, a German privacy procedural, a Beijing art house debate about machine-made creativity, a Japanese short-form tragedy and a zombie language. Misunderstanding with global distribution rights.
Speaker 1:Honestly, I'd binge that anthology.
Speaker 3:Each case brought its own tension, its own stakes, its own sense of who owns what and who gets to tell the story. Because in the end, that's what IP law in film is really about Control over the narrative on and off the screen.
Speaker 1:And that control is getting harder to define. Streaming blurred the lines between premieres and piracy, ai blurred the lines between creator and tool, and global deals made local contracts feel well, not quite local anymore.
Speaker 3:We saw stars holding studios accountable, we saw platforms facing lawsuits across borders, and we saw judges redefining what a poster, a voice or a dub even means in the digital age.
Speaker 1:And still, through all the courtroom monologues and legal plot twists, one theme stayed in focus the law might be old, but it's not static. It adapts, it rewrites, sometimes it even improvises.
Speaker 3:And creators. They're not just making films. They're navigating contracts, asserting rights, protecting identities and sometimes accidentally launching new legal frontiers with every release.
Speaker 1:So if you're in film and still treating your IP like background noise, cue dramatic lighting because you're in the wrong genre. Treating your IP like background noise, cue dramatic lighting Because you're in the wrong genre, what?
Speaker 3:today's cases show us is that the future of film isn't just about pixels or platforms. It's about power the power to own, to license, to remix and to resist being remixed without permission.
Speaker 1:And if you're a fan, you're not off the hook either. You can shape what gets made by what you stream, what you share and, yes, what you fast forward through on YouTube.
Speaker 3:So, whether you're a lawyer, a filmmaker, an actor or just someone who really loves a good closing credit sequence, remember every story you love lives inside a legal framework.
Speaker 1:Sometimes a brilliant one, sometimes a broken one, but always one worth reading between the lines.
Speaker 3:That's it from us today. We hope this episode gave you a new lens on the films you love and the rise behind them.
Speaker 1:And if you ever hear someone say it's just a movie, tell them to check the docket.
Speaker 3:This has been Intangiblia, where IP contracts and creativity get their spotlight.
Speaker 1:And where the credit's my role, but the rights.
Speaker 3:Never fade to black.
Speaker 2:Thank you for listening to Intangiblia, the podcast of Intangible Law playing talk about intellectual property. Did you like what we talked today? Please share with your network. Do you want to learn more about intellectual property? Subscribe now on your favorite podcast player. Follow us on Instagram, facebook, linkedin and Twitter. Visit our website wwwintangibliacom. Copyright Leticia Caminero 2020. All rights reserved. This podcast is provided for information purposes only.