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In 2016, The Nice Guys was released to praise from both critics and audiences. Starring Ryan Gosling and Russell Crowe, this noir-inspired mystery seemed to offer everything moviegoers claim to want: originality, sharp writing, and a story that doesn’t feel manufactured for mass appeal. It had talent, style, and a distinct creative voice. By all accounts, it should have been a hit, yet it underperformed at the box office.
There are countless reasons why a film might struggle at the box office. Maybe the marketing didn’t land, the reviews were mixed, or it got lost in a crowded release schedule. Regardless of the cause, if audiences don’t show up, the film is labeled a failure. People say they want something new, but their choices tell a different story. Original films haven’t vanished, they’ve just been pushed to the margins, quietly replaced by franchises and familiar brands because that’s what audiences reliably pay to see.
These days, it’s common to hear people complain that Hollywood has lost its originality, with every new release feeling like a reboot, remake, or sequel. It’s a complaint that’s getting louder by the day, and yet, when Hollywood takes a chance on an original film, the response is always silence. Consider Oscar-winning director Damien Chazelle and his passion project, Babylon. This unhinged love letter to early Hollywood had scale, vision, and a star-studded cast, but still ended up losing around eighty million dollars. Even an original movie with good reviews from a major studio like Pixar isn’t guaranteed success. Elio, their latest film, is nearing the end of its theatrical run and hasn’t even made back its production budget. This shows that even the biggest names and studios aren’t an important facet in moviegoing choices.
It’s clear that something has shifted in the industry, and it isn’t the movies; it’s the audience. Trends in moviegoing have always evolved over time, shaped by new genres, technologies, and changing tastes. While change is inevitable, today’s evolution feels more like a step backward. The way audiences interact with movies feels fundamentally different, and not in a way that leaves much room for originality.
A movie has to be an event or cultural phenomenon in order to capture the interest of casual audiences. Any time a Christopher Nolan or Denis Villeneuve movie gets released, it dominates the online conversation to the point where you almost feel socially penalized for missing it. “Barbenheimer” became the cinematic event of the summer. Dune: Part Two had people convinced in March that nothing would top it as their movie of the year. Even A Minecraft Movie had audiences racing to go see it, not because it was good, but because social media framed it as an event. An original movie doesn’t need to be part of a franchise to succeed; it just has to be part of the discourse, but it never gets the chance.
Many original films are being made outside the major studios, but they rarely break through to public awareness. Barbie, Oppenheimer, and Dune: Part Two had massive marketing budgets that together totaled over $350 million. How are independent studios ever supposed to compete? Even when a smaller title does slip into the public zeitgeist, it still struggles to draw an audience. In today’s world, where expenses keep rising, going to the movies feels less like a casual night out and more like a costly, high-stakes decision. For a family of five, a night out at the theater can easily cost upwards of $100 between tickets and concessions. So why gamble on something unfamiliar like The Life of Chuck when there’s no guarantee you’ll enjoy it? It’s probably not going to be long before it ends up on one of your seven streaming services anyway. It feels safer to spend your money on something like Jurassic World: Rebirth because it’s familiar and you already have an idea of what you’re getting.
In an industry that is always evolving, the COVID-19 pandemic didn’t just disrupt the film world; it accelerated its transformation. With theaters closed, studios had to adapt quickly, turning to streaming platforms to keep their movies alive. Films that were supposed to have exclusive theatrical runs would debut on streaming services the same day or within weeks of their release. As the pandemic faded, this shift didn’t. Consumers can currently watch a film from the comfort of their home less than two months after it hits theaters simply by logging into their Netflix account. This pragmatic thinking only creates an even more helpless situation for smaller studios. People will race to theaters on opening weekend to see the latest Star Wars movie before it’s inevitably spoiled, but the same urgency isn’t applied to more niche films without cultural momentum.
But what about star power? It used to be one of Hollywood’s most reliable tools for getting people into theaters, but it no longer carries the weight it once did. Nowadays, Hollywood has realized that actors have taken a back seat to the real box office draw: franchises. It’s no longer about who is in the movie; it’s about what universe it belongs to. Between franchises like Marvel, Harry Potter, Jurassic Park, and James Bond, it’s clear that intellectual property (IP) has become the new selling point. A poorly made franchise movie can rake in hundreds of millions, while original movies with big-name actors and positive reviews can fail miserably. It feels like star power is only alive when it’s backed by an IP. Audiences will show up for Chris Hemsworth if he’s wielding a hammer, but not if he’s chasing spies in a standalone thriller. IP is a bigger draw for audiences, and Hollywood has taken note.
The point of this isn’t to shame anyone for going out and seeing the newest Marvel or Fast and Furious installment. I’ll admit that I’m always the first one seated for a movie where CGI superheroes bash each other through skyscrapers for two hours. There’s nothing wrong with going out to see a remake of your favorite childhood film or a sequel to a movie that could have gone without one. But somewhere along the way, that became all we show up for.
That’s not always the case, though. This year, Ryan Coogler released Sinners, one of the most original and innovative horror films in recent memory. It had a 90-million-dollar budget and still managed to gross over 365-million, which is an increasingly rare feat for an R-rated original. But where there’s money, corporate greed isn’t too far away. While Coogler intended Sinners to be a one-and-done story, it is rumored that Warner Bros. is pushing for a sequel. It’s apparent that studios don’t treat originals as singular visions anymore; they treat them as pilot episodes. If an original breaks through, it’s only a matter of time until it’s forced into becoming a franchise, whether it needs one or not. They are looking for the next Pirates of the Caribbean or A Quiet Place; they can bleed dry.
As consumers, we have the power to shape what gets made. Marketing will always favor the latest franchise film, but if you want more mid-budget originals, you have to be the one who shows up for them. Otherwise, movies like The Nice Guys will keep slipping through the cracks. You can tweet about wanting originality all day, but if you don’t show up when it’s offered, the message is clear. Studios don’t measure passion with Letterboxd reviews; they measure it with ticket sales.
Original movies aren’t dead; they’ve just been pushed out of the spotlight. Audiences crave comfort and familiarity while studios tend to play it safe. This toxic cycle feeds itself, starving original storytelling of the chance to thrive. The industry is a reflection of what we reward, and right now, safe bets win over risks. So the next time you go to ask why Hollywood doesn’t make anything original, maybe the better question would be: would you have shown up if they did?
