The Irishman is the subject of a rumor that goes around in Hollywood development circles. For years, Martin Scorsese has been attempting to have the movie made. Conventional studios passed after considering the budget, which ultimately exceeded $150 million, the ages of the cast, and the runtime. The check was written by Netflix. With virtually no opening-weekend pressure, the movie traveled to Cannes, had a brief theatrical run, and ended up on the streaming site. Directors noted that the financial framework behind it was truly novel, regardless of whether you consider it a masterpiece or an overly drawn-out experiment.
In hindsight, that time in 2019 seems to have been a precursor to something that has been picking up speed ever since. Due to a number of challenges that studios created mostly thru their own strategic decisions, the connection between serious filmmakers and established studio infrastructure has been deteriorating for some time. The major studios have become increasingly uncomfortable places for directors who came up with original work and want to continue doing it because of the shift toward franchise properties, the reliance on IP with built-in audiences, the focus-group testing of scripts, and the franchise-alignment notes that arrive mid-production.
Platforms supported by technology present an alternative. Rather of a theatrical gross, the money is guarantyd against a subscription model and is paid in full up front. A director doesn’t check Deadline’s box office tracking over the weekend to see if their career has survived. With differing degrees of truth, Netflix, Apple TV+, and Amazon MGM Studios have all established a reputation for abandoning auteur-level directors after a deal is inked. less notes. There is less pressure to turn challenging material into something more widely accepted. Another consideration, which varies greatly each project and platform, is whether that reputation really represents reality at the production level.
The worldwide distribution component is more important than it is likely to be acknowledged. A movie that is launched in theaters in the US must contend with a declining number of available screens, a shortened time before streaming, and a viewership that has clearly changed over the previous five years. On the night that a movie is released straight to Netflix, it is concurrently accessible to over 300 million customers in almost 200 countries. That reach is not a consolation prize for a director whose work doesn’t fit neatly into the domestic blockbuster mold and whose audience is dispersed and global rather than centered in the US multiplex market. For anything below franchise scale, it’s actually a better distribution than most traditional studios can provide.
Since the backend percentage structure of traditional studio arrangements has been subtly harming the relationship between studios and performers for decades, it merits greater attention as a grievance. Even on commercially successful films, directors and writers who negotiated backend points on studio projects have spent years learning that accounting procedures made those points almost impossible to collect. Tech platforms completely avoid that battle by paying higher guarantyd fees up front. The transaction is easier. Cleaner, but less profitable for a true blockbuster.
As this change takes place, there’s a sense that traditional studios are reacting to the talent drain in ways that could accelerate rather than reverse it. For example, they are increasing their focus on IP-driven projects and franchise sequels, which call for a particular type of director who is at ease working within strict creative constraints. That is a legitimate market that generates profitable movies. However, it makes less and less space for the kind of filmmaker who made a name for themselves by doing something out of the ordinary. There is a destination for those directors. The address is now different.
