IIf you wandered onto the set of M3GAN 2.0 last year, you might have stumbled upon M3GAN, an eerie humanoid doll. Alison Williams shares with a nervous chuckle, “The challenge is whether to turn her around to face the wall or send her back to her room. Neither option feels right.”

In the sequel to the sci-fi horror film, Williams reprises her role as Gemma, a robotics expert-turned-advocate against the reckless development of AI after creating M3GAN for orphans. (She is also a producer on the sequel.)

Discussing M3GAN’s challenging role via a video call from her New York hotel room, Williams noted that the character was sometimes portrayed by a 15-year-old dancer named Amie Donald, but often by a robotic doll operated by a small team. “After a while, her eyelids get sticky,” Williams explains. “The handler uses a brush to apply lubricant to her eyes, and if you catch yourself thinking she’s alive, that’s a problem.”

Williams is best known for her breakout role as Marnie in Lena Dunham’s landmark series, Girls. Her first significant film project post-Girls was the Oscar-winning dark comedy, Get Out. Both IT and M3GAN were relatively low-budget films that became cultural phenomena. M3GAN particularly tackles racial politics and the perils of AI, highlighting M3GAN’s own disarray.

Williams has long been intrigued by AI. She knows Sam Altman, co-founder and CEO of OpenAI, who developed ChatGPT, and engaged with robotics experts while preparing for her role as Gemma. The film raises ethical questions about AI, exploring not only the threats posed by AI gone rogue but also the “rights” of our devices. “It’s easy to anthropomorphize something like our little robot vacuum at home,” she remarks.

Is she apprehensive about AI taking over jobs in the near future? She chuckles, “If you pose a question that begins with ‘me,’ the answer is always yes. I have an endless capacity to worry about things.”

Yet she suggests that whether it’s human acting or other work, “We will all be replaced eventually. But so far, especially in art, I haven’t witnessed anything that replicates human output in a way that truly feels human.” She smiles, adding, “But it’s not that it doesn’t concern me.”

M3GAN poses questions about the technology we give to children. “You wouldn’t give your child cocaine,” Gemma asserts in M3GAN 2.0. “So why hand them a smartphone?” With three sons of her own, Williams is cautious about this. “He asks such profound questions; it’s incredible. Often, I don’t have answers.” Recently, she shared an explanation about rocket launches using ChatGPT. “Watching his reaction reminded me of Gemma observing a child interacting with M3GAN. It struck me how I had to note to take him to the library to get a book next time. It’s hard to justify logically,” she adds. “It felt like an instinctive decision.”

Parenting is the focal point of a new podcast that Williams launched this month alongside two friends, early childhood educator Hope Klemer and therapist Jamie Oppenheim. It originated from a group chat delving into motherhood, aging, and life’s complexities. Upcoming episodes will touch upon the guilt many mothers grapple with, a theme echoed in M3GAN 2.0. Do our expectations of mothers evolve? “I certainly hope so,” Williams responds. “Guilt thrives in the absence of a community where you can express those feelings.”

She expresses frustration regarding the prevalent “mama content” on platforms like Instagram and TikTok, often portraying an idealized version of motherhood. “Many times, it just makes people feel bad. The emotional toll can be immense,” she shares with a laugh, addressing the unrealistic portrayals of influencer-packed lunches filled with nutritious options. “Without our nanny, I would be a mess, especially while my husband is working in London. I’m so grateful for her support. It’s unrealistic to expect anyone to handle everything alone. What about the help?”

In another podcast episode, she tackles societal standards regarding aging and the unrealistic expectations of beauty. With a chuckle, she remarks, “But there’s not much that can be done about my forehead now. Yet, someone could glance at me and think, ‘I should be able to have a wrinkle-free forehead.’ No, my lack of wrinkles doesn’t make me better than you.”

Williams reflects on the perception that once celebrities achieve fame and fortune, maintaining genuine friendships can become challenging. “I don’t walk the world feeling like a celebrity,” she notes. “I experienced that during my twenties while shooting in New York, but now, dropping my son off at kindergarten makes me feel like a regular person among others. My job might be public and unique, but I’m still just a person.”

Recently, she realized that her son is at the same age she was when she began considering acting as a possible career (his father, Alexander Dreymon, is also an actor). They met while filming the 2020 thriller Horizon. Williams recalls how movies like Mary Poppins shaped her perception of acting, “Julie Andrews was like a goddess to me.”

Her parents, former NBC News anchor Brian Williams and producer Jane Stoddard Williams, encouraged her education (Yale) over entering the acting world as a child. “I’m thankful they didn’t push me into this industry too early. It was tough enough starting my career at 23 when Girls premiered.”

Williams’ experience is rather atypical. Growing up in a household with famous parents meant her father, Brian Williams, reached millions before the media landscape shifted dramatically. In 2015, his reputation was called into question when it was revealed he embellished a story about being shot at while covering the Iraq War, leading to a six-month suspension and eventual departure from NBC.

What was it like to navigate such circumstances as a family? “When you feel the weight of public scrutiny and chatter, it can be daunting,” Williams admits. “It’s a harsh side of the media; they often turn on their own.”

In discussing the criticism surrounding “nepotism babies,” Williams approaches the topic positively, recognizing her advantages. “One of the privileges is the ability to pursue acting without the stress of providing for myself. Growing up around people who were doing what I aspired to do—like the Hanks family—made it feel attainable. By high school, I was already working as a production assistant for Robert Altman on Horizon, landing a spot in a star-studded ensemble alongside Meryl Streep. That experience surely gave me a head start.”

Gratitude is a recurring theme in Williams’ life. She feels fortunate not to be starting her career now. There was a considerable buzz surrounding Girls during its six-year run ending in 2017, but she can’t fathom what it would be like navigating social media scrutiny today. (Williams left Instagram in 2020, feeling the platform became increasingly toxic and cynical.) “We treated each episode as if it mattered significantly,” she reflects.

While some criticisms were valid—like the predominantly white setting of the show—several were driven by misogyny, undermining constructive critique. Williams laughs, recalling how some reviews failed to refer to the characters by name, instead labeling them as “daughters of famous parents.” “We were easy targets, and I acknowledge that,” she admits.

For a while, Williams struggled with people conflating her identity with her character, Marnie, who grapples with sociopathy. “I wanted to create distance because I thought it was important for people to respect the act of acting. Our characters were heard and seen, but we chose not to reveal that. It felt odd for people not to recognize the characters as distinct from us.”

Despite the challenges, she emphasizes that the experience was overwhelmingly positive. Is there a chance for a reunion? “I would love that,” Williams responds. “I know Zosia [Mamet, who played Shoshanna] is promoting spin-offs. I’m eager to find my own path to elbow into that. I want us all back together; working on that show was a blast and marked the start of my career, a time I now recognize as exceptionally special.”

For fans of Girls, a reunion would be an ideal scenario: four dynamic women against the backdrop of an unsettling AI doll.