A young star's tragic death, if during that fleeting moment when talent and charisma have suggested endless potential that human follies had yet to tarnish, had made a legend of more than one actor, to the conflicted feelings of studio suits. Legends were good for a catalog's profitability, but dead legends made no movies.
That was, of course, before Stanislavski-grade videorealistic deep fakes.
If actors noticed that studios began to spend less on their personal security, they were too worried about their pixel-perfect competition to complain. And in their heart of hearts, where the idea of immortality had a shape as old as the first ritual of blood and song... They didn't decide anything, not in so many words, but they were as reckless a generation of actors as there had ever been.