The Reboot, The Sequel, and The Prequel: Why Hollywood is Slowly Destroying Itself

“One of our biggest priorities is restoring Paramount as the number one destination for the most talented artists and filmmakers in the world,” said David Ellison, CEO of Skydance Media, and now arguably the most powerful man in Hollywood. Just last year, Skydance had a successful $8 billion merger with Paramount Studios. Paramount is, of course, a staple of the film industry, being one of the pioneering studios of the early 20th century. And, as of February 27th, Warner Bros. Discovery, another legacy studio, has accepted an $111 billion bid from Ellison to acquire all its assets. If this second merger is approved, it would consolidate the film industry like never before, with just two companies controlling most of the infrastructure used to produce films: Disney and Skydance.

However, this doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. Netflix just withdrew its bid for Warner Bros., and its CEO, Ted Sarandos, is seemingly strongly opposed to theaters. In comparison, at the same press conference where Ellison said the aforementioned quote, he said he has plans to make movies with the distinct purpose of being shown in theaters. Based on this alone, one might assume that if any one person were to control such a large share of the film industry, it would be ideal to have Ellison behind the wheel. His priorities are creative ideas, backed by the most talented filmmakers, and making films intended for theatrical release. One would think that Paramount, and potentially all of Hollywood, under this leadership, may bring about a much-needed “renaissance,” one focused on creative filmmaking made for the big screen. 

However, Ellison elaborated, saying that his and the studio’s top priorities are a third Top Gun, a new Star Trek film, a new Transformers film, and another James Mangold film starring Timothée Chalamet. At the same time, they’re planning to finish pre-merger projects such as A Quiet Place 3, Rush Hour 4, a Ferris Bueller spin-off, and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles animated sequel, while also working on a live-action remake. For a studio that wants the most talented artists and filmmakers in the world to work for them, Paramount does not seem to actually prioritize allowing a single new piece of intellectual property (IP) to come into existence. Looking at Hollywood movies recently, it is not difficult to grow bored by the repetition of reboots, sequels, and prequels; almost every film Paramount is prioritizing falls into one of these categories. Even in their attempts at creating new IPs seem like an effort to hit the replay button: High Side (dir. Mangold) hopes to recapture the success of A Complete Unknown, and attaching showrunner Toby Haynes, of Star Wars sci-fi series Andor’s fame, to direct the new Star Trek series is a clear sign of trying to recreate the former’s success with the reboot of another IP.

If you were alive in the summer of 1982 and walked into your average movie theater, you could see E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, Blade Runner, and The Thing on the same day; just two years later, you could go see Ghostbusters, Gremlins, and The Karate Kid. Now, just a little over a year ago, in the summer of 2024, you could walk into your local theater chain and watch any of these creative and original titles: Inside Out 2, Deadpool & Wolverine, Despicable Me 4, Twisters, Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, A Quiet Place: Day One, Bad Boys: Ride or Die, and Alien: Romulus. From this comparison, it’s really not hard to see that nearly everything coming out right now seems to be part of some larger franchise, or an attempt to create one. The real current problem with filmmaking, which has led to the industry's decline, is studios’ goal of “franchising.” This represents the industry-wide pivot from creating individual, original, well-crafted, high-concept films to massive-budget films that serve instead as a hopeful return on investment, with the occasional potential to reap hundreds of millions at the box office. 

In 2025, just over 20 films were released with budgets of over $100 million, almost all of which were based on existing IP. Only about half broke even or turned a profit—why then do studios have such a proclivity to throw hundreds of millions of dollars at films within these “cinematic universes”? Enter the cinematic event. These “event films” are released around 2 to 3 times a year, often featuring famous actors or beloved characters, and fill theaters for weeks on end. Some recent examples include Deadpool and Wolverine, Avatar: The Way of Water, Top Gun: Maverick, F1, The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes, Oppenheimer, Spider-Man: No Way Home, and several others. Their box-office success, viewership, and occasional critical acclaim often convince studios that audiences yearn for the familiar. Because they occasionally outperform all expectations, raking in billions for studios, executives are convinced that those are the films people most want to see. However, this just reinforces a bad cycle: for all the hits, there are many flops that share the same original goal; in these cases, they are just written off as lacking the right blend of elements. 

“Honestly, the closest I can think of them, [...] is theme parks. It isn’t the cinema of human beings trying to convey emotional, psychological experiences to another human being,” said acclaimed director Martin Scorsese while discussing franchise films. What Scorsese touches on here is exactly what studios are missing. Audiences don’t go to see these films to truly engage with the medium or the narratives, but because they bring excitement and thrill, only experienceable in theaters, for a few hours, akin to going to a theme park. Movie tickets now cost on average $15-20 at most chain theaters for a routine digital film screening; streaming costs about the same amount, but monthly. Meaning, to keep up with the oversaturation of media, one would have to spend over $100 a month to watch every movie and pay for several streaming services, where even more content lies.

This price, of course, is not feasible for the average person. Because of this additional cost on top of streaming services, a person has to justify that the film they intend to see is worth the $20 dollars to watch it in theaters, when they could easily view it at home. For a person then deciding what warrants the additional $20 ticket to a film they can watch at home, they need to feel that they are getting $20 worth of movie. It’s much more financially reasonable to spend this $20 on one of the major streaming services housing hundreds of films, which will receive most movies once they leave theaters. Many movies, such as dramas and experimental films, which likely don’t feel “big” enough to warrant the price of going to a theater, could later be watched at home; seeing the film in theaters immediately upon release seems unnecessary unless there is a specific incentive. Event films, however, offer this incentive by using existing IPs to manufacture “Cultural Moments” or “Events” that guarantee thrill and unexpected spoilable moments, emphasizing to audiences that their story not only warrants the theatrical atmosphere and spectacle of the big screen, but also needs immediate viewing and can’t wait for streaming. These films have a low barrier to entry: their characters are known, their plots and themes are easily digestible, and they usually offer an expected, guaranteed two to two-and-a-half hours of cheap excitement, without challenging the audience to the point of discomfort. As Scorsese pointed out, that does not sound like film, the medium of introspection, but rather like riding a roller coaster at an amusement park.

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Paramount is the same studio that brought us Apocalypse Now, Forrest Gump, Saving Private Ryan, Braveheart, Titanic, Gladiator, and many more profitable original films that now feel synonymous with “classic cinema” of the American blockbuster era. None of these films were part of a franchise, nor did they go on to create major franchises (except for Gladiator, now part of one of Paramount’s “priorities” in light of its recent sequel’s box-office success). What made these films–many of which are models for the blockbusters Paramount seeks to maintain and expand upon–so successful? There are several reasons: they are original, innovative, mid-budget, high-concept ideas, most helmed by talented auteurs given wide reign of creative control. Importantly, these elements each worked together to create a film, not a pop culture event, that is itself competent, narratively impactful, and compelling; the care and attention to the individual project, and the craft of filmmaking itself, is what in turn made them culturally defining. 

The thrill of modern event film relies on that first-time theatrical experience, as if it were a live performance or concert, featuring cameos, callbacks, and over-the-top fanfare, rewarding the audience for their prior knowledge of the story’s world. The film and its ability to stand on its own seemingly come second to cultivating the initial feelings, shock, and thrill manufactured within these events. Previous films of the blockbuster era that would garner turnouts like modern-day event films could be more accurately called “eventful films,” films that were narratively, technically, or artistically rewarding enough to create a cultural zeitgeist around them. Hollywood now seems to be misinterpreting the appeal of these films as they try to first manufacture a cultural zeitgeist around a film, hand-holding the audience on why they should take note of this latest installment, hoping this will then convince audiences that the films themselves are also narratively, technically, or artistically rewarding. While many of these films deliver the promised three hours of excitement, they lack sufficient substance and quickly fall out of public consciousness. This new production philosophy distorts the movie theater from a place of immersion with cinema into a cinema of attractions, focused on crowd-pleasing and a sideshow-esque adrenaline rushes, which all contribute to why these films feel increasingly bland and expected. 

Theater-going has, of course, changed in the post-pandemic world, but what is evident is that theater-going has not gone extinct; it is just currently endangered. Hundreds of millions of dollars are continually wasted on franchise films, while local movie theaters close and movie theater chains shrink across the United States, leading Directors Guild of America President Christopher Nolan to say this is a “very worrying time for the [film] industry.” While it is in fact a worrying time, especially among these big studio mergers, it’s important to think of the advice Cord Jefferson, writer and director of the film American Fiction, gave during his Oscars acceptance speech: “Instead of making one $200 million movie, try making twenty $10 million movies or fifty $4 million movies.” Distributing budgets to create many more mid-range, high-concept movies, helmed by creatives with strong control over the project, is the way forward for the industry to revive itself. This encourages experimentation and increases the likelihood that films turn a profit at the box office, as they only have to recoup a small budget while marketing with big ideas. This is often referred to as “The Blumhouse Model,” as it is the motto of award-winning producer Jason Blum, whose studio has amassed over $6.5 billion at the global box office and achieved massive critical success, discovering both Jordan Peele and Damien Chazelle.

Two recent films, which largely embody the success of this model, should serve as a guide for Paramount and all other major studios on how to bring people into theaters to see films: Weapons and One Battle After Another. These are two major studio-produced films that exceeded expectations because they were technically strong, cleverly marketed, and rich in material. These films were not intended to be event films, but, like one, they drew large crowds, demonstrating that “eventful films” are still very possible in the modern day. More notably for studios, these films also saw massive box-office success—even more interesting, given the contrast between Weapons' $38 million budget and One Battle After Another’s $130 million one. This should tell studios that it is entirely possible to create box-office hits, whether mid-range or large-budget, with original, unique plots helmed by a director’s distinct creative vision. 

These films were personal projects by creatives who had near-complete control to make meaningful films, and as a result, they struck a poignant chord with audiences desperate to see something new and original. These films dominated the cultural conversation and box office for weeks, due to their originality in both content and voice. Films like these that try to push boundaries and barriers are made for a live audience, one that feeds off the screen, and audiences felt enthralled. After more than two decades of multiverses and franchises, audiences are clearly searching for a Hollywood that prioritizes talented artists and filmmakers, letting them creatively reign as in the New Hollywood era, reversing our current production-dominated industry. For these legacy studios, whether it’s Paramount, Warner Bros., or a combination of the two, there is a clear, already demonstrated way in which they can bring originality back to the industry without sacrificing financial success. Rather than continuing to drain these Blockbuster era IPs, studios should step back for a moment and follow their methodology–embracing creativity, originality, and artistry–instead.

Elijah Segal is a freshman at Columbia University studying Film and Media and Economics. When not filming, watching films, writing about films, or talking about films, he also enjoys reading, exploring the city, and spending time with friends.