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And crucially, we are no longer loyal. In the 90s, NBC could rely on a Friends audience. Today, your favorite show is cancelled before you finish the season premiere.

This has created a fascinating anxiety in the C-suites. Executives know that audiences want originality. But they are terrified to pay for it. The result is the "highbrow franchise"—taking a beloved IP and handing it to an auteur. The Batman (Matt Reeves). Andor (Tony Gilroy). The Last of Us (Craig Mazin). These are not products; they are arguments that genre can be art. It is a truce in the culture war. Perhaps the most profound shift is where and how we watch.

On the other hand, you had The Marvels and The Flash —expensive, sequel-laden, universe-building films that crashed and burned. The audience has developed a sophisticated immune system to mediocre franchise fare. We will show up for a great Spider-Verse movie. We will not show up for the fourth Ant-Man . a27hopsonxxx

Right now, the system is unwinding. The contracts are broken. The old kings—Netflix, Disney, the studio system—are bleeding. And in the chaos, the weird stuff is getting through. A documentary about a paedophile janitor ( The Curious Case of... ) becomes the most watched thing on the planet. A two-hour black-and-white courtroom drama ( Anatomy of a Fall ) wins an Oscar.

Prediction two: Not because studios are nice, but because the streaming wars have cratered. With Wall Street demanding profitability over subscribers, studios can no longer afford to only make $200 million blockbusters. They will have to make Aftersun and Past Lives again—$10 million dramas that make their money back slowly, over years, on digital rental. And crucially, we are no longer loyal

But here is the hopeful note: Popular media has always been a mess. In the 1950s, they thought television would destroy reading. In the 80s, they thought the VCR would kill cinema. It didn't. It just changed.

By J. Sampson

For thirty years, we called it "Peak TV." The golden era of the antihero. The streaming wars. The binge. For three decades, the entertainment industry operated on a simple, unspoken contract: we will give you more than you can possibly watch, and you will remain glued to your couch, forever chasing the season finale high.