‘Five Nights at Freddy’s’: AI Fears And Why Human Dignity Matters
(REVIEW) “Five Nights at Freddy’s” is a storytelling mess but profoundly illustrates the heart of modern fears around AI that Hollywood is presently exploring.
“Five Nights at Frieddy’s” is a movie based on the video game franchise of the same name. The movie centers on Mike, who agrees to work a shady job on the night shift as a security guard for an abandoned kids’ pizzeria so he can keep custody of his younger sister, only for him and his sister to be put in danger when the pizzeria’s animal animatronics start coming to life.
“Five Nights at Freddy’s” (or FNAF, as it’s known on the internet), is a rare popular video game who’s sole creator is an open conservative Christian. Scott Cawthon was an indie video game developer who made Christian games like “Noah’s Ark” and “Pilgrim’s Progress” before deciding to pivot to horror so he could support his family. His beliefs became the subject of scandal when it came out he donated to Republicans, and so he decided to largely retire to avoid damage to his brand. But he didn’t apologize for his beliefs or his support of Republican politicians. As he explained on Reddit: “I’m a Republican. I’m a Christian. I’m pro-life. I believe in God.”
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I’ve never played FNAF but have watched videos of it on YouTube. I understand the appeal. The absurdly effective simple premise of surviving five nights behind the monitors of a security desk in a haunted off-brand Chuck E. Cheese, where your only option for survival is to watch the monitors for the haunted animatronics and close the doors at the right time without wasting the power too soon, is inspired. It also feels deeply millennial, with the relatable drudgery of doing a job you hate juxtaposed with a nightmarish twisting of childhood nostalgia.
Unfortunately, the movie takes what could have been a smart mashup of “Rear Window” and PG-13 “Chucky” and immediately over-complicates it with melodramatic tragic backstories, contrived custody drama and bizarre Steven King-esque psychic dreaming, where very little of the claustrophobic terror of surviving the bump in the night actually takes place.
Obviously, the game works because it starts out simple, then becomes complicated once you are invested. This is a stage the movie skips. While the film may not live up to the original game’s potential, it does add a clever twist on Hollywood’s concrete fears about artificial intelligence: being replaced.
Hollywood has used AI as some of its favorite villains for a long time. While traditionally, the AI took the form of cartoonish monsters trying to take over the world or destroy humans like in “The Terminator” or “The Matrix,” the big fear recently regarding AI that comes up over and over in Hollywood’s movies is, not surprisingly, the fear of being replaced.
Whether that’s replaced as a romantic interest (in films such as “Her” and “Foe”), as a self-ruling people (“Mrs. David” and “Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning Part 1”), as family and friends (“M3gan”) or as the planet’s dominant race (“Blade Runner: 2049” and “The Creator”), each time AI is introduced, it causes problems for humans. AI can do everything that humans can do (including think and feel) but seemingly do it better than humans, thereby making them redundant.
Sometimes, that fear is portrayed by villains, particularly when they make the AI the protagonist such as in “Blade Runner 2049” or this year’s film “The Creator. The villains in both these movies argue that AI needs to be destroyed or kept under control to prevent it from replacing humans or upsetting the world.
In “Foe,” the replacement version of Junior really becomes sentient, and Hen prefers him to her real husband. But the movie treats that as a flaw in the husband rather than the robot or the wife, and the replacement is killed by the unfeeling humans. Because of that, the humans’ treatment of AI becomes a metaphor for racism or other forms of dehumanization. And yet, little is done in these movies to explain how those replacement fears are unjustified. Nor is much done to explain why things that can imitate indistinguishably human intelligence should automatically be assumed to have it.
Other movies side with the humans who fear being replaced. This year’s “M3gan” vividly portrayed a world where AI was advanced enough to become a substitute friend and companion to a grieving girl named Cady who just lost her parents and whose guardian was too busy and emotionally disengaged to take care of her. “M3gan” is made to be a perfect friend and does the job so well that Cady loses the skills to interact with and love people who aren’t specifically designed to cater to her wants and needs.
It has become clearer what AI is going to look like in our everyday lives. Our fears about it would become more concrete and realistic. Rather than having AI decide to take over the world by force, it simply replaces us because we designed it that way to do so. AI girlfriends make it easier to not have a real relationship. And, of course, with ChatGPT, homework is being done and art is being made without humans. This last one is among the big reasons Hollywood actors and writers have gone on strike this year. Even though we are choosing technological relationships over real ones, it seems to be making people more and more miserable.
This idea that we can become utterly miserable precisely by getting exactly what we want is a concept deeply rooted in Christian theology and is based on the idea of “teleology.” Christian thinkers from Thomas Aquinas to C.S. Lewis have spoken about the difference between “pleasure” and “happiness” (or “happiness” and “joy” in the words of C.S. Lewis), with “pleasure” meaning anything you enjoy, but “happiness” meaning enjoying what you ought to be enjoying because you’re living out your purpose.
Everything that exists is made for a purpose. When we live out our purpose, we are truly happy, according to this theology. When we are not, we become miserable — even if it's something we would prefer to do than our purpose. For example, when people choose to watch porn rather than pursue real relationships or choose to avoid community for fear of commitment, these people are getting what they want but end up feeling more lonely and miserable even if they don’t understand why.
“Five Nights At Freddy’s,” advertently or inadvertently, leans into this idea that, with or without AI, we replace people whom we should love. The villain literally kidnaps children and places their ghosts inside of animatronic animals, replacing the children with robots. But the biggest “replacing” at the heart of the story is how the protagonist Mike “replaces” the relationship he has with his sister with the memory of his dead brother, being willing — at least initially — to sacrifice her well-being in order to have the chance to find him.
This reminds us that the issue of replacing people is not really a function of AI, but one that happens with our consent. It’s about how humans always seem to have a tendency to replace real and meaningful human relationships with cheap substitutes. We are meant to be in relationships with each other; that is our telos. Violating that is ultimately bad for us. Just like technology is tempting yet destructive as a substitute because it can be catered to our specifications without truly meeting our needs, so memories, dreams and nostalgia can as well.
As Mike experiences, it’s easier to love a dead brother than a living sister who constantly gives you trouble. At one point in the movie, Mike even remarks on how he misses his family dinners when his parents and young brother were still alive (which included saying grace), but at the time he didn’t appreciate them, thinking that they were corny.
“Five Nights At Freddy’s” is ultimately about helping us recognize that some kinds of happiness are better than others and to not replace them with cheap substitutes before it’s too late.
“Five Nights at Freddy’s” is simultaneously in theaters and streaming on Peacock now.
Joseph Holmes is an award-nominated filmmaker and culture critic living in New York City. He is co-host of the podcast “The Overthinkers” and its companion website theoverthinkersjournal.world, where he discusses art, culture and faith with his fellow overthinkers. His other work and contact info can be found at his website josephholmesstudios.com.