When two of YouTube’s most prominent filmmaker creators posted videos extolling the virtues of an AI video platform, the response was swift and, for at least one of them, brutally negative. The backlash against Joonas Haapoja and Parker Kolder over their undisclosed — and later confirmed — paid partnerships with Higgsfield AI has laid bare a growing fault line in the creator economy: the profound risk influencers take when they align themselves with generative artificial intelligence tools that their audiences view as a threat to human creativity.
What began as seemingly straightforward promotional content for Higgsfield’s Seedance 2.5, a generative AI video model, quickly spiraled into a public relations headache for the creators involved. Fans and fellow creators alike accused Haapoja and Kolder of shilling for a company whose core product is built on training data scraped from the internet without consent, all while failing to label their videos as advertisements. The controversy underscores a fundamental tension: creators can only secure lucrative sponsorship deals after cultivating massive, loyal audiences, but those very audiences may punish them for promoting technologies perceived as existential threats to the craft that made them famous in the first place.
The Videos That Sparked a Firestorm: Haapoja and Kolder’s Higgsfield Endorsements
The trouble began when Joonas Haapoja, a filmmaker known for his technical deep dives into cinematography and video production, published a video that felt, to many viewers, like an infomercial for Higgsfield. In it, he explained how Cully Hill Boys — Higgsfield’s feature-length film starring AI-generated duplicates of YouTubers Mikyle “N3on” Rafiq and Matt Kiatipis — was produced using text prompts. He also demonstrated Seedance 2.5’s capabilities by inserting AI-manipulated footage of himself into various sci-fi settings. The video was not labeled as an ad, nor did it include a sponsorship disclosure.
Around the same time, Parker Kolder, another creator renowned for his high-production-value vlogs and cinematic travel content, released a video titled “AI is replacing me.” The piece begins with an explanation of Kolder’s background in video production before transitioning into a fictionalized, Chappie-esque narrative in which he explores Mauritania with the help of a robot. Like Haapoja’s, Kolder’s video blends real human footage with distinctly uncanny AI-generated imagery. And like Haapoja’s, it was not openly labeled as a paid partnership, though its caption contained what appeared to be an affiliate link offering a 30 percent discount on an annual Higgsfield subscription.
Both creators enthusiastically positioned Higgsfield and its Seedance 2.5 model as revolutionary tools with the potential to transform the entertainment industry. But in doing so, they left portions of their audiences feeling alienated, deceived, and concerned about the creators’ judgment.
The Backlash Unfolds: From Fan Disappointment to Peer Criticism
The negative reaction to Haapoja’s video was especially intense and widespread. On Threads, the backlash was led not by random commenters but by fellow creators who consider Haapoja a peer. Marques Brownlee, one of the most influential tech reviewers on the planet, took direct issue with a specific comparison Haapoja made in the video: likening generative AI to the Canon EOS 5D Mark II, the iconic DSLR known for making full HD 1080p video affordable for independent filmmakers. Brownlee argued that the comparison was flawed at its core. Unlike the 5D Mark II — a physical tool that filmmakers still had to learn how to use — generative AI is “trained on real human-made material without any credit,” Brownlee wrote on Threads.
Other creators on Threads shared what appeared to be screenshots of partnership offers they had received from PR firms working on Higgsfield’s behalf. These posts led fans to a troubling conclusion: Higgsfield was systematically using creators to boost its profile and manufacture goodwill from the public, all while avoiding the transparency that standard advertising practices demand. The perception of a coordinated, covert campaign amplified the anger.
Kolder’s experience on YouTube was more mixed. His comments section featured a blend of enthusiastic praise — “absolute cinema!” and “amazing transitions!” — alongside lamentations that “AI defeated our king” and assertions that “no AI can replace creative artists.” The split reaction suggests that Kolder’s audience may be slightly more tolerant of AI experimentation, but the negative voices were still loud enough to signal clear discontent.
Why This Controversy Is Different: The Absence of Disclosure
The central issue that inflamed the backlash was the lack of transparency. Neither Haapoja nor Kolder labeled their videos as advertisements or sponsored content at the time of posting. When The Verge reached out for comment, neither creator responded to questions about whether these were paid partnerships.
Only after the story was published did Higgsfield confirm the arrangement. In a statement, Higgsfield PR manager Nuray Omarkhan said that “the creators were compensated through a negotiated combination of monetary payment and Higgsfield credits.” This belated confirmation validated the suspicions of fans who had already concluded that the videos were paid promotions disguised as genuine enthusiasm.
This lack of disclosure is particularly damaging in the context of generative AI. Unlike a typical brand deal for a camera, a smartphone, or a clothing line, AI tools are deeply polarizing. A significant portion of the public holds negative views about generative AI, viewing it as a technology that exploits human creators without permission or compensation. When a creator fails to disclose a paid relationship with an AI company, it doesn’t just violate trust — it feels like a betrayal of the values that made the creator’s audience loyal in the first place.
Higgsfield’s Broader Play: From Cully Hill Boys to Creator Collaborations
Higgsfield has been aggressively pursuing creator partnerships as part of its go-to-market strategy. The company’s feature film Cully Hill Boys, which debuted last week, generated relatively little fanfare compared to the Haapoja and Kolder controversy. The film uses AI-generated duplicates of popular YouTubers N3on and Matt Kiatipis, raising its own set of questions about consent and likeness rights. However, those criticisms were largely directed at Higgsfield itself, not at the creators whose digital twins appeared in the film. The cast members had given Higgsfield permission to use their likenesses, but they were not as directly involved in the production as traditional actors would have been.
What changed with Haapoja and Kolder is that they were not passive subjects of AI replication — they were active promoters of the very tool that threatens to displace the kind of human filmmaking they are known for. Their videos came across not as neutral explorations of a new technology, but as sponsored advertising designed to ingratiate their audiences with Higgsfield. Even though neither creator explicitly said “you, too, should use this product,” the underlying message was unmistakable.
The OpenAI Precedent: Influencer Retreats and the Growing AI Trust Problem
This is not an isolated incident. Earlier this month, OpenAI invited a group of influencers to a luxury resort in New York for a “Summer Club” retreat. None of those content creators produced anything as substantial as the videos Haapoja and Kolder made. Instead, they posted photos of the trip and shared OpenAI-branded swag. That was more than enough to provoke outrage among their followers, who accused them of being paid shills for a company that many distrust.
The OpenAI retreat backlash, combined with the Higgsfield controversy, reveals an emerging pattern. When creators accept sponsorship deals from AI companies, they are not just endorsing a product — they are aligning themselves with an industry that is widely perceived as exploitative, unregulated, and hostile to the very human creativity that built the creator economy in the first place. Gallup polling has shown that Americans are becoming increasingly cool toward AI, and that skepticism is especially pronounced among younger, more artistically inclined demographics — exactly the audience that creators like Haapoja and Kolder depend on.
The Creator’s Dilemma: Trust as Currency in the Age of AI
The situation highlights a structural vulnerability in the creator economy. Influencers and YouTubers can only secure lucrative brand deals after building large, engaged followings. But those followings are built on a foundation of trust. Fans believe that the creators they watch share their values, exercise good judgment, and are transparent about their financial incentives.
When a creator takes money from an AI company and hides that fact, the damage is twofold. First, it violates the explicit expectation of disclosure that platforms like YouTube and the Federal Trade Commission mandate. Second, and more importantly, it signals to the audience that the creator’s enthusiasm for the product was purchased — that the video was not an honest review but a commercial transaction dressed up as genuine content.
For creators like Haapoja and Kolder, whose entire appeal rests on their human creativity, technical skill, and artistic vision, this bargain is especially dangerous. Their audiences do not follow them to learn about AI tools; they follow them to see what humans can achieve with cameras, lighting, editing, and storytelling. Endorsing a tool that automates large portions of that creative process can feel like a betrayal of the very craft that fans admire.
What Are the Rules for AI Sponsorships? A Growing Gray Area
As AI companies increasingly turn to influencer marketing, the rules around disclosure and transparency are being tested. YouTube requires creators to check a box indicating that their video contains paid promotion, and the FTC mandates clear and conspicuous disclosures. But the practical enforcement of these rules is uneven, and creator culture has long had a blind spot when it comes to native advertising that feels organic.
The Higgsfield controversy raises a specific question: When does a creator’s genuine enthusiasm for a new tool cross the line into paid promotion? Higgsfield itself now admits that payment was involved, but the creators never disclosed that fact to their audiences until after the backlash forced the truth into the open. The fact that the videos were not labeled as ads, that the creators did not respond to questions about compensation, and that the disclosure only came from Higgsfield’s PR team after publication — all of this suggests a deliberate attempt to blur the line between independent content and commercial messaging.
This is not sustainable. As public skepticism toward AI continues to grow, creators who accept AI sponsorships will need to be radically transparent about their relationships, or risk alienating the very audiences that make them valuable to sponsors in the first place.
Lessons for Creators and Brands Navigating the AI Landscape
For creators considering AI sponsorships, the Higgsfield incident offers several clear lessons. First, disclosure is not optional — it is essential. A creator’s relationship with their audience is built on trust, and hiding a paid partnership destroys that trust far more effectively than any disclosure ever could. Second, the choice of brand partner matters enormously. Endorsing a polarizing technology like generative AI carries inherent risk, and creators must weigh that risk against the compensation on offer. Third, the creative execution of the sponsorship must align with the creator’s established brand. A filmmaker known for human-centric storytelling who suddenly becomes an evangelist for AI-generated video will face questions about authenticity and integrity.
For AI companies like Higgsfield and OpenAI, the lesson is equally clear. Secretive, undisclosed influencer campaigns may generate short-term buzz, but they create long-term reputational damage for both the brand and the creators involved. The backlash against Haapoja and Kolder was not just about Higgsfield — it was about the broader sense that AI companies are trying to buy goodwill rather than earn it through transparency and genuine value.
What Happens Next: The Future of Creator-AI Partnerships
The Higgsfield controversy is unlikely to be the last of its kind. As generative AI tools become more powerful, more accessible, and more ubiquitous, the tension between human creators and the machines that can mimic them will only intensify. AI companies will continue to seek influencer endorsements because they need human faces to humanize a technology that many find threatening. And creators will continue to accept those deals because the compensation is often substantial.
But the rules of engagement are changing. Audiences are savvier than ever about native advertising, and they are increasingly unforgiving of perceived deception. The creators who survive this era will be those who treat their audiences with respect — disclosing partnerships honestly, choosing brand deals carefully, and maintaining a clear line between their authentic voice and the commercial interests that fund their work. For those who fail to do so, the backlash will be swift, loud, and permanent.
