When Moonbug, the studio that produces the wildly popular children’s show WhatComelonemployees were laid off in the face of rising viewership, rumors were circulating that his alleged decision to experiment with artificial intelligence was partly to blame. (Moonbug did not immediately respond to a request for comment.)
As with the video game industry, statistics on AI adoption and its impact on jobs are few and far between—executives rarely announce in a memo their intention to replace AI workers; the process is elaborate and often clouded by other factors. But among the dozen or so animation workers I spoke with for this article, there is an undeniable sense that AI is this a threat to their livelihood.
Nora Meek, an artist and storyboard artist, says she and her colleagues see AI as an “extremely high-risk” issue. “Members know that if we don’t get strong collective protections around the use of AI, we risk losing everything,” Meek says.
Animators have a bit of an advantage. Two of the three biggest films of the year so far are animated feature films: From inside to outside 2which has grossed almost $1.6 billion to date, and How to steal a moon 4. A number of others, including If, GarfieldAND Kung Fu Panda 4They also performed well beyond their potential in 2024. Their dominance was enough to attract the attention of media outlets such as “Animated Films Help Save Hollywood”” in a year when many live-action films failed to meet box office expectations. In other words, it’s a wildly profitable industry that doesn’t always get the same respect as the rest of Hollywood.
Rianda says that’s what radicalized him. When he was at Sony, he sat next to the printing press that used to print corporate memos—so he saw printouts of executive salaries. “Because I was sitting next to the printing press, I could see how much everyone at the studio was making,” he says. “I thought, ‘This guy’s making $3 million a year, and I’m making $10,000 or something.’”
I met Rianda outside Netflix Animation’s glass, V-shaped Burbank headquarters, which, like many Southern California offices, blends into a strip mall. We walked through interconnected parking lots and searing indoor heat to a burger joint, where Rianda spoke about the injustices of the industry, his growing battle with studios, and his fears and anger about what AI might do to his profession.
Rianda is a bit like one of his The Mitchells characters — big-hearted, crazy and sometimes righteous — simply more profane than the Motion Picture Association would ever allow for a PG film. “Sometimes it’s hard to draw the line, because I think animators are so humble,” Rianda says. “They’re like, ‘I just draw pictures.’ I’m like, ‘I don’t know, man, they just made a billion dollars on the fucking Minions. If you drew the first Minion, you should have gotten at least $500 million,’” Rianda says with a laugh. “The guy who’s making all the money didn’t draw a Minion.”
Rianda barely touched his food. He spoke of his colleagues who are overworked and underpaid, even at the industry’s biggest studios. “Honestly, seeing what people get for their money is a big motivator because it shows you how unfair the system is,” he said.