I know, I know — I don’t want to beat a dead horse.
My last blog was all about why movies still matter, and today I want to take that conversation a step further:
What do we do to keep the art form alive when the entire industry looks like it’s collapsing?

Because, let’s be honest…
The future of film and TV looks bleak right now.
Studios are downsizing (or being acquired by those who seem perched to do us harm).
Runaway productions are the norm (a move that seems to be about busting unions).
Jobs are evaporating (AI will most definitely kill off many technical jobs).
Legacy companies are being absorbed, merged, or dismantled —

And with the recent announcement that Netflix will be purchasing Warner Brothers?
And as I write this, Paramount announced a hostile bid to take over Warner Bros.
Yeah… people (including me) are panicking.

The fear is real:
Are we watching the end of the studio era?
Are theaters living on borrowed time?
Is the Hollywood we grew up loving about to flatline?

I have those same fears. But also, as an artist, I don’t want to see what I do become obsolete because of some tech guys (or, to be fair, non-artists) making this decision for me based solely on money.

I’m not naïve or oblivious to the shifts happening around us. But after spending months living in that “the sky is falling” anxiety, I had to stop and adjust my thinking.

Because what if — instead of a collapse — this is a revolution?
I know when you hear the word revolution you may be thinking of something drastic or even violent. I’m using this dictionary definition: “a dramatic and wide-reaching change in the way something works or is organized or in people’s ideas about it.”

Think about it…

🎥 The System Has Never Been Fair — Should We Be Trying to Save It As-Is?

I say yes. But truth be told:
For a century, the studio system has been the gatekeeper.

They decided who got greenlit.
Who got distribution.
Who was “marketable.”
Who got the budgets, resources, and opportunities.

And that system has always left a lot of people behind — especially independent filmmakers, especially marginalized creators, especially anyone not already plugged into the machine. And that machine is getting more and more homogenized as the days go by.

While we cry over institutions — and even in the face of being left out of said system — it does hold a special place in my heart. Two things can be possible:
We can fight back against the dismantling of our industry and also pursue options that ensure we are stakeholders in its future.

This contraction — this consolidation — is also exposing the truth: they don’t know the future any more than we do. (My variation on William Goldman’s quote Nobody knows anything.) If studios are guessing, experimenting, and scrambling for footing… then we are just as positioned to step into the void. How Sway, you say? We have more options than in the past.

📺 Technology Has Already Opened the Door — Now All We Have to Do Is Walk Through It

Between digital filmmaking tools, global streaming platforms, the internet, social media, and distribution models that haven’t even been invented yet… the landscape has shifted.

You no longer need a gatekeeper to validate your vision or distribute it to its audience.
What you do need is the courage to think bigger than one film at a time.

And yes — the catch-22 is money.
It has always been money: who has it and where they choose to spend it.

But the money is out there.
It’s just coming from new places:
private equity, global financing, partnerships, brand-backed storytelling, international co-productions, crowdfunded studios (more on that later), and audiences hungry for fresh voices.

Indies can’t think in terms of “I’m raising funds for one low-budget feature.”
We need to think in terms of slates.
Multiple films.
Multiple shows.
Multiple voices.
Multiple revenue streams.

Not one-off projects — but independent mini-studios.

✨ Crowdfunded Studios Are Already Planting Seeds

And here’s the thing we’re not talking about enough:
the new studio models are already sprouting. And not just as a means to an end.

They’re not hypothetical — they’re happening right now. And in this changing time, I imagine other avenues that are just ideas at the moment are on the horizon.

Crowdfunded investment studios — studios built by the audience, for the audience — are proving that people will show up when they believe in a vision. We, filmmakers, just need to believe.

Companies like Brass Knuckle Films, Angel Studios, Horror Section, and Legion M have already tapped into this model, letting everyday people invest directly in the projects and studios they care about.

Is it perfect? No. I personally don’t want to make a movie on consensus alone.
But it’s working. And its proof that audiences want to participate in the building of a studio, a slate, a legacy. And that brings me hope.

These new funding models are showing us the future:
Studios that aren’t controlled by a handful of executives, but powered by communities, fans, artists, and investors who believe in the work.

This is what reinvention looks like.
And honestly? This is what the next 100 years of cinema could be built on.

I hope I don’t sound too naïve. But also, I don’t care if I do!

🎞️ The A24 Effect — and What It Means for the Next 100 Years

A24 didn’t exist 15 years ago.
Neither did Neon or Macro.

Now look at them:
cultural powerhouses.
Taste-makers.
Award winners.
Legacy builders in real time.

We need more of that. More independent companies operating at various budget levels.
More risk-takers. More vision. More filmmakers saying, “If they won’t build it, we will.”

Because if legacy studios are disappearing, then it's time for new legacy studios to emerge.
Maybe these mini-studios will become the next majors, opening up room for a new crop of mini-studios.

A century from now, someone will look back and say:
“This was the moment everything changed — and these are the companies that rose from the rubble.”

Why shouldn’t that be us? (she bangs her hand on the desk)

🍿 Reinvention Isn’t Optional — It’s Survival

This moment is scary. But let’s not give in to the fear or the doom and gloom of it all.
Fear often means transition.

And as I’ve said before:
Movies aren’t going anywhere.
TV isn’t going anywhere.
Storytelling isn’t going anywhere.

Streaming didn’t kill cinema.
AI won’t kill cinema.

It’s like saying taxis disappeared because Uber exists — you can still find a taxi. There are just fewer of them. And honestly?
A world with fewer movies and shows might not be the worst thing.
It could mean better stories, more intention, more curation, and less noise.

This industry isn’t dying.
It’s shedding a skin.
And the question becomes:

Can we fight for and mourn the old system while we build the next one?

Yours in Filmmaking,
Nicole