Netflix’s purchase of Warner Bros is bad news for cinema and those of us who love it | Warner Bros

DIs Netflix exacerbating a range of seasonal affective disorder in movie fans? The streaming giant, timed to devastate the holidays like a round of year-end layoffs, announced plans to buy Warner Bros., a film and TV studio with a century-long legacy. The acquisition will likely never actually happen, and if it does, it won’t happen for at least a year. But news is still looming over the year-end awards and list-making, and it will take more than just a jingle bell to steal any holiday cheer from the entertainment industry, let alone halt the march of corporate consolidation and monopoly. What’s even more frustrating is that the entity that seems most capable of taking action against this is… another attempt at a merger. Paramount has launched a hostile takeover bid for Warner Bros Discovery, which would bring together two big studios under one very Trump-friendly umbrella. This would certainly increase the number of large-scale films released each year.

Depression may not seem like a rational response, especially to someone who doesn’t actually work in said industry. (There are many reasons why many unions declare their opposition to either sale.) However, last week’s news prompted hundreds of movie fans to post eulogies and defenses not only of Warner Bros. as a studio – which itself has an extensive history that includes such classics as Casablanca, The Adventures of Robin Hood, The Late Night, Bonnie and Clyde, The Searchers, and The Matrix, among hundreds – but the very fabric of theatrical cinema.

It’s an institution that many of us have taken for granted for years. Locations may change, with single-screen palaces, mall theaters and cinemas giving way, but it was easy to assume that cinemas would always be around in one form or another. Now some regular moviegoers, still shaken by the prolonged closure of many theaters during the worst of the Covid-19 pandemic and the Netflix-led cultural shift toward watching everything on the couch, are periodically getting into a state of panic over whether theaters as we know them will still exist in 10 or 20 years.

They probably do—at least in major cities, where a variety of mainstream new releases, art shows, and representational performances maintain a healthy variety of gallery options. (Manhattan alone has more than twenty theaters.) But beyond the many industries where thriving movie theaters are not a given, it increasingly appears that the ability of movie theaters and studios to weather various storms may not matter in the face of such corporate resilience.

What’s frustrating about the Netflix news is how clearly it points out how little the studio’s actual success matters in terms of its own preservation — because in those terms, Warner Bros. has had an amazing year in 2025. It’s captured young audiences with its Minecraft movie, posted massive grosses for the original and auteur-driven genre hybrid Sinners and Arms, revitalized its superhero franchise with Superman, and maintained two storied horror franchises with a new Final Destination sequel and Conjuring. He put up fight after fight for a potential Oscar (and gave Paul Thomas Anderson his most-watched film to date), and he had a hand in an almost old-fashioned star car by handing out the Apple F1 movie with Brad Pitt. Although the previous years had seen some costly flops, it was only a few years before Barbie would become their biggest blockbuster ever. I don’t want to be trite about something that is, ultimately, another giant corporation of its own, but between Barbie, Dune, Minecraft, Superman, One Battle After Another, and the many movies in which King Kong fights Godzilla, most casual moviegoers have probably had at least one great time at a Warner Bros. movie. Sometime within the last two years.

In the hands of Warner Bros Discovery CEO David Zaslav, these successes are hardly a testament to how the movie business can thrive. They are valuable insofar as they can help enhance the potential for sale. On the other side of this deal, Netflix may not buy Warner Bros because it sees a valuable library of older films and a pipeline ready for major theatrical releases. In a movie-centric utopia, Netflix could supplement Warner Bros.’ roster of low-budget romantic comedies, adult-driven thrillers, and teen films often overlooked by big studios, as well as a regular supply of the streaming sideline in artistic passion projects from the likes of Martin Scorsese, Spike Lee, Noah Baumbach, and David Fincher. (Maybe auteurs like Scorsese and Lee won’t be afraid after one movie, knowing that Warner Bros. can actually get their films into theaters.) Netflix could also bring all kinds of classic cinema into viewers’ homes.

But judging by the number of pre-1990 titles on Netflix at any given time and the award-eligible theatrical releases it reluctantly offers for its most popular projects, the rich catalog and major theatrical releases are elements of the film industry and its history that the company vaguely despises. Netflix is ​​buying Warner Bros. mostly to eliminate competition from HBO Max — and perhaps, in the future, broader competition for people who occasionally leave their homes for entertainment.

Oh, and intellectual property. Netflix subscribers received a very sad and funny email from the company about the impending purchase, in which they exclaimed about “bringing some of the world’s most beloved franchises like Harry Potter, Friends, The Big Bang Theory, Casablanca, Game of Thrones and DC Universe along with Stranger Things, Wednesday, Squid Game, Bridgerton and KPop Demon Hunters.” The signature Warner movie they’ve included in this ad is clearly Casablanca, perhaps the most “name movie” movie of all time (at least in the pre-1970 section), and which they promptly, confusingly and horrifyingly, describe as a “franchise”. (For that matter, how is Friends a franchise? The show has yielded one reunion special and a host of corny character spin-offs in the 20 years since it has been on the air.)

This in itself is just corporate insensitivity and bumbling – and it is not particularly endemic in 2025 in particular. And yes, a movie lover’s glorification of the sanctity of the theatrical experience can be a little embarrassing. Suddenly, we’re all Nicole Kidman, reading from a series of public service announcements on behalf of multiplexes that forget to turn off the lights and don’t hire projectionists who can fix technical problems. However, beyond this grandeur, going to the movies can be a simple pleasure, a relatively affordable escape that some companies seem intent on treating as a production problem, begging to be solved. Can’t you save energy by staying at home? Wouldn’t you feel like you were saving money if you agreed to give us twenty dollars a month forever for anything we could get from our home page? Doesn’t the decision to watch a particular movie require valuable brainpower that we can colonize with an algorithm? Even if Paramount doesn’t succeed in wresting Warner from Netflix, it has already begun a hostile takeover. Tech freaks want to control our art and our leisure time. We should not give it up to them.