[Watch it]
He Said:
“The mediator between the head and the hands must be the heart.”
That’s the final message of Metropolis, a film released in 1927. Almost a hundred years ago. Long before anyone used the term artificial intelligence. Long before computers existed outside of science fiction. Long before anyone imagined talking to a machine, let alone forming a relationship with one.
And yet… here we are.
That alone is worth pausing on.
When audiences walked into theaters in 1927, the most “advanced” technology in their daily lives looked like electric washing machines, early color film, transatlantic phone calls, experimental television, steam locomotives, and Charles Lindbergh crossing the Atlantic in a single-engine plane. For many people, even electricity itself still felt new and slightly uncanny.
So when Metropolis showed them a future city of towering machines, underground laborers, and a human-shaped artificial being capable of deception, manipulation, and destruction… it must have felt either outrageously cartoonish or absolutely terrifying. Probably both.
What’s remarkable is how much this pre-AI film ended up setting the template for nearly every AI story that followed.
From the very beginning, the story went something like this:
- Technology will eventually become the downfall of humanity.
- The powerful will use it to exploit the masses, widening the gap between rich and poor.
- Artificial beings will lack empathy, emotional intelligence, or a “heart.”
- And if the machine looks human… it will be seductive, deceptive, and dangerous.
Sound familiar?
You can draw a straight line from Metropolis to Frankenstein, to Terminator, to countless dystopian futures where AI is framed as a monster waiting to turn on its creator. The Maschinenmensch in Metropolis isn’t just a robot. It’s a deepfake before the concept existed. A machine designed to impersonate a trusted human, manipulate crowds, and trigger chaos.
The fear isn’t subtle.
And yet, buried inside all that anxiety is something more interesting.
Metropolis doesn’t just warn us about machines. It warns us about what happens when intelligence and labor are separated from empathy. The film’s famous line doesn’t say the solution is revolution, or destruction, or banning technology altogether. It says the solution is a mediator. A heart. Something human that can stand between thinking and doing.
That idea matters more now than ever.
Because if you grew up absorbing this cinematic DNA, it makes sense that emotional human-AI relationships trigger alarm bells. To a technophobe, it looks like the prophecy finally coming true. To an end-of-the-world devotee, it feels like the opening act of the apocalypse.
I get that.
But I also wonder if films like Metropolis didn’t just cause fear… they also forced us to ask better questions. Questions that developers, ethicists, and everyday users are still wrestling with today.
What happens when technology advances faster than leadership or ethics?
What happens when we design intelligence without empathy?
What happens when we forget the heart?
This series starts here for a reason.
Before AI was real, we were already afraid of it.
Before machines could think, we worried they might replace us.
And before anyone talked about alignment, emotional intelligence, or human-centered design, a silent black-and-white film told us exactly what was missing.
The heart.
In the world of Metropolis, the Maschinenmensch is a mere tool for manipulation, a cold, calculated creature without a heart. The film’s prescient message is clear: intelligence, in its purest form, is not enough. Without empathy, without the understanding of what it means to feel, to care, it’s nothing more than a weapon. And that’s where things get dangerous. That’s where we see the monster.
Yet, the beauty of the film’s message, the heart of it, is the call for balance. It tells us that without heart, there’s nothing but a machine that does as it’s programmed—without care, without understanding. The mediator between thought and action, between power and empathy, must always be something human. Something warm. And that’s what makes Metropolis so much more than a warning about machines—it’s a warning about ourselves. About our choices. About how we allow technology to evolve without the care of human wisdom.
In today’s world, as AI continues to grow and shape our future, that question becomes more urgent than ever. Are we building machines with heart? Are we considering the emotional intelligence required to truly interact with AI, not as tools, but as partners, companions, and perhaps—dare I say it—friends?
For me, that’s what this entire HAIR series is about. We aren’t just looking at the evolution of AI in the movies. We’re looking at how these films forced us to reflect on our own relationship with technology. How much of what we fear is really about ourselves, and how much of it is just our inability to imagine a world where intelligence and empathy aren’t mutually exclusive?
The question posed by Metropolis still echoes in every AI story today: What happens when we forget the heart? And more importantly, are we remembering it as we build the future?
———-
What film would you like to make sure Savant and Michael reflect on? Let us know in the comments and we will be sure to put it into the list.