International
Image Entertainment acquires thriller ‘Odd Thomas’
MUMBAI: Stephen Sommers wrote and directed Odd Thomas, the adaptation of the Dean Koontz New York Times bestseller that is has sparked a seven-novel series and perhaps a film franchise. The film stars Anton Yelchin as a short-order cook with clairvoyant abilities who encounters a mysterious man surrounded by dark, threatening forces. The cook’s unique abilities, which include an ability to speak with the dead, help him, protect his town and family. Sommers wrote the script before he had the rights from Koonz, who is wary of movie adaptations of his works, and kicked off production in May 2011 without a studio deal. Image Entertainment plans an early 2014 release.
Image Entertainment chief acquisitions officer Bill Bromiley, for made the announcement on Tuesday.
“Director Stephen Sommers’s spectacular style and extraordinary vision translates so well to the big screen for this material,” said Bromiley. “We are proud to distribute the film and introduce the magical world of Odd Thomas to a wider audience.”
The deal was negotiated by Bromiley, Mark Ward and Jess De Leo on behalf of Image Entertainment and Paul Hudson on behalf of the filmmakers.
Dean Koontz is an American author, known for his bestselling suspense thrillers. Fourteen of his novels reached the number one position on the New York Times hardcover and paperback bestsellers lists, including Odd Hours, Midnight, The Bad Place, Cold Fire, Hideaway, Dragon Tears, Intensity, Sole Survivor, From the Corner of His Eye, One Door Away From Heaven, The Husband, Relentless, What the Night Knows and 77 Shadow Street. Koontz is one of only a dozen writers that have achieved this milestone. His books have been published in 38 languages and he has sold over 450 million copies to date.
Recent Image Entertainment releases include The Colony with Laurence Fishburne, Bill Paxton and Kevin Zegers, Paradise with Julianne Hough, Russell Brand, Octavia Spencer and Holly Hunter, written, directed and produced by Diablo Cody and the upcoming The Adventurer: The Curse of the Midas Box starring Michael Sheen, Lena Headey, Sam Neill and Aneurin Barnard and Rage starring Nicolas Cage and Danny Glover.
LOS ANGELES: Acting has never been an easy profession, but in recent years, it has acquired a new existential anxiety. Artificial intelligence can now mimic faces, clone voices and, in theory at least, speak any language it is fed. The fear that actors may soon be replaced by algorithms no longer belongs exclusively to science fiction. And yet, despite the rise of digital inauthenticity, some performers remain stubbornly resistant to replacement. The reason is not celebrity, nor even talent. It is language.
On paper, this should not be a problem. AI can translate. It can imitate accents. It can string together grammatically correct sentences in dozens of languages. But acting, inconveniently, is not about grammatical correctness. It is about meaning, and meaning is where AI still falters.
Machine translation offers a cautionary tale. Google Translate, now powered by neural AI, has improved markedly since its debut in 2006. It can manage menus, emails and airport signage with impressive efficiency. What it struggles with, however, are the moments that matter most: idioms, metaphors, irony, and cultural shorthand. Ask it to translate a joke, a threat disguised as politeness, or a line heavy with emotional subtext, and it begins to unravel. Acting lives precisely in those gaps.
This matters because film language is rarely literal. Scripts, particularly in independent cinema, rely on figurative speech and symbolism to convey what characters cannot say outright. Pedro Almodóvar’s Volver is a useful example. The film’s recurring use of red operates on multiple levels: grief, desire, repression, liberation, and memory. These meanings are inseparable from the Spanish cultural context and emotional cadence. A translation may convey the words, but not the weight they carry. An AI-generated performance might replicate the sound, but not the sense.
This is where multilingual actors gain their edge. Performers such as Penélope Cruz and Sofía Vergara do not simply switch between languages; they move between cultural logics. Their fluency allows them to inhabit characters without flattening them for international consumption. Language, for them, is not an accessory but a structuring force.
Beyond European cinema, this becomes even more pronounced. Languages such as Hindi, Arabic and Mandarin are spoken by hundreds of millions of people and underpin vast cinematic traditions. As global audiences grow more interconnected, the demand for authenticity increases rather than diminishes. Viewers can tell when a performance has been filtered through approximation. Subtle errors, misplaced emphasis, and an unnatural rhythm break the illusion.
There is also a practical dimension. Multilingualism expands opportunity. Sofía Vergara has spoken openly about how learning English enabled her to work beyond Colombia and access Hollywood roles. But this movement is not a one-way export of talent into English-speaking cinema. Multilingual actors carry stories, styles and sensibilities back with them, enriching multiple industries at once.
Cinema has always thrived on such hybridity. Denzel Washington’s performances, for instance, draw on the cultural realities of growing up African American in the United States, while also reflecting stylistic influences from classic Hollywood and Westerns. His work demonstrates how identity and influence intersect on screen. Multilingual actors extend this intersection further, embodying multiple cultural frameworks simultaneously.
At times, linguistic authenticity is not merely artistic but ethical. Films that confront historical trauma, such as Schindler’s List, rely on language to anchor their moral seriousness. When Jewish actors perform in German, the choice is not incidental. Language becomes a site of memory and confrontation. It is difficult to imagine an automated voice carrying that responsibility without hollowing it out.
This is why claims that AI heralds the death of language miss the point. Language is not just a delivery system for information. It is a repository of history, humour, power and pain. Fluency is not only about knowing what to say, but when to hesitate, when to understate, and when to let silence do the work. These are not technical problems waiting to be solved; they are human instincts shaped by lived experience.
AI may one day improve its grasp of metaphor and nuance. It may even learn to sound convincing. But acting is not about sounding convincing; it is about being convincing. Until algorithms can acquire memory, cultural inheritance and emotional intuition, multilingual actors will remain irreplaceable. AI may learn to speak. But it cannot yet learn to mean.
In an industry increasingly tempted by shortcuts, language remains stubbornly resistant to automation. And for actors who can move between worlds, linguistic, cultural, and emotional, that resistance is not a weakness, but a quiet, enduring advantage.
