Original ideas are out, remakes are in, and Hollywood is more comfortable copying itself than taking a risk. Staff Writer Marta Bueno Arcos looks at why the industry is stuck on repeat, and why audiences keep pressing play.
They say money makes the world go around. So, for film studios choosing between a new, original story or another remake with a built-in fanbase, the choice is quite clear.
If it feels like everything coming out lately is a sequel, a reboot, or a live-action version of something that was perfectly fine the first time, that’s because it is. Hollywood is currently stuck in what can only be described as a creative group project where everyone just copies the person next to them and hopes no one notices.
And it’s not even trying to be pretend anymore. Disney has been churning out live-action remakes of their biggest hits like it’s a contractual obligation, from classics like The Jungle Book (1967, 1994 and 2016), to newer stories like Moana, which is getting remade only a decade later. And it’s not a new thing either. Classics like The Karate Kid (1984) was rebooted in 2010 starring the iconic Jackie Chan, and Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice gets recycled every generation or so, including the 1995 series starring Colin Firth, the beloved 2005 film with Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen and upcoming Netflix adaptation. At this rate, give it another five years and we’ll be rebooting reboots!
It’s easy to blame laziness, but the real reason is much less exciting. It’s money. Big films are expensive, and studios are not in the business of taking risks for the love of art. They want returns, preferably large ones, and preferably guaranteed. That’s where existing franchises come in. A known title already has an audience, a brand, and years of recognition behind it. Marketing becomes easier, opening weekends get a boost, and investors sleep better at night.
Original films, on the other hand, have to introduce themselves from scratch. They have to convince audiences to care, compete with billion-euro franchises, and break through an algorithm that would much rather recommend something familiar. It’s not impossible, but it is harder. And in an industry that increasingly avoids risk, harder is often enough to say no.
Part of this comes down to how films make money now. There used to be a safety net. A film could underperform in cinemas and still find a second life through DVD sales and rentals. That second wave doesn’t exist anymore. Streaming helps, but it doesn’t bring in the same kind of revenue. If a film falls flat today, it simply fails. No redemption arc, just a very expensive mistake.
So studios play it safe. It’s become the default setting. Safe, however, doesn’t mean good. It just means predictable. And predictable is easier to sell than interesting. And sequels are another thing! Sometimes a stand-alone film is not enough and a sequel is great for addressing plotholes or expanding on a universe, sometimes the movies are adaptations of a book series, like the Lord of the Rings, and so multiple movies make sense. But sometimes, enough is enough. The Fast and Furious franchise is great and all, but once they hit the double digits with Fast X, aka Fast and Furious 10, it’s time to let the cash cow go.
There’s a limit to how far a story can stretch before it starts to snap. Raising the stakes only works for so long before it turns into pure spectacle with very little substance. At some point, it stops feeling like a continuation and starts feeling like an obligation.
Still, studios wouldn’t keep doing it if it didn’t work.
Audiences might complain about “remake culture”, but they also buy tickets for it. Nostalgia is doing a lot of heavy lifting here. Familiar characters, familiar worlds, even familiar soundtracks, they all come with a built-in emotional connection. Watching something you already know is easy. It’s comfortable. Right now, comfort sells.
It also helps that these films are everywhere. Massive marketing campaigns, constant trailers, endless online promotion. When a franchise film is unavoidable and an original one barely gets a mention, the choice starts to feel much less like a choice at all.
So the cycle continues. Studios make remakes because they perform well, and they perform well because studios keep making them. Original films get labelled as risky, not necessarily because audiences don’t want them, but because the system isn’t built to support them in the same way.
Which is how we end up here. Watching trailers that feel like déjà vu, wondering why everything looks the same, and still, somehow, contributing to it. The issue isn’t a lack of interest, it’s a system that rewards predictability over creativity.
Money can’t buy taste. But it sure can buy security. And right now, security is winning.
Until that changes, Hollywood will keep digging through its own archive, dusting off old ideas and selling them back as new. Slightly shinier, slightly louder, and usually longer.
Who asked for this? Apparently, enough of us.