Hollywood's current crisis is self-inflicted, stemming from a decades-long failure to adapt its business models and economics. Instead of innovating to compete with tech-driven services like Netflix, the industry persisted with inefficient structures and is now blaming disruptors for inevitable consumer-driven changes.
High-stakes bidding for legacy media assets like Warner Bros. is driven by status-seeking among the ultra-wealthy, not a sound bet on the future of media. They are acquiring prestigious "shiny objects" from the past, while the actual attention economy has shifted to platforms like TikTok and YouTube.
Established industries often operate like cartels with unwritten rules, such as avoiding aggressive marketing. New entrants gain a significant edge by deliberately violating these norms, forcing incumbents to react to a game they don't want to play. This creates differentiation beyond the core product or service.
To adapt to modern streaming audiences on Netflix, the 56-year-old Sesame Street brand is streamlining its content. The new strategy involves fewer characters and more music, demonstrating how even established media properties must evolve their core format to capture the attention of new generations on new platforms.
The cynical take on the Netflix-WB deal is that Netflix's true goal is to eliminate movie theaters as a competitor for consumer leisure time. By pulling all WB films from theatrical release, it can strengthen its at-home streaming dominance and capture a larger share of audience attention.
As major studios pull back from theatrical releases, a new opportunity emerges for cinemas. They can pivot from showing new blockbusters to becoming "revival houses" that program classic, niche, and cult films. This caters to audiences seeking curated, communal experiences beyond at-home streaming, as seen with the rise of anime screenings.
Netflix's bid for Warner Bros. may be a brilliant game theory play. Even if the deal is blocked by regulators, it forces its primary rival into a multi-year acquisition limbo. This distraction freezes the competitor's strategy, allowing Netflix to extend its market lead. It's a win-win for Netflix.
The acquisition isn't a traditional consumer monopoly but a monopsony, concentrating buying power. This gives a combined 'Super Netflix' leverage to dictate terms and potentially lower wages for actors, writers, and directors, shifting power from talent to the studio.
Recent streaming price increases, which are vastly outpacing inflation, serve as the primary evidence that the market is already too consolidated. Further mergers would grant companies like Netflix unchecked pricing power, transferring wealth from consumers and labor directly to shareholders in an oligopolistic environment.
For 20 years, Netflix's identity was built on 'no ads, no live sports, and no big acquisitions.' Its recent reversal on all these fronts to maintain market dominance shows that adapting to new realities is more critical for long-term success than rigidly adhering to foundational principles.
By launching a bid for Warner Bros., Netflix CEO Ted Sarandos has ingeniously stalled the market. This move forces all other potential suitors and targets into a holding pattern, as any significant M&A activity must now wait for the outcome of this lengthy regulatory battle, giving Netflix a strategic advantage.