Something in the world of cinema just short-circuited. Streaming giants like Netflix or Hulu

started mass-producing successful plotlines that all have something to say about the status

quo, often addressing class and inequality in society. Severance, Barbie, Squid Game, The

White Lotus, The Menu, and Anora all play around with narratives that attempt to fight the

establishment. This viral social critique of overt consumerism has infiltrated dramas,

comedies, and horror movies alike. So why is it happening right now? Why do consumers

around the world enjoy these films so much? And most importantly, why are studios that

succeeded within the system producing more content criticising it?

At first, I was surprised to find such a huge demand for movies that look down on

consumerism amidst the peak of the attention economy. With people religiously enjoying the

300th iteration of the Hallmark Christmas romance, spending hours scrolling away on TikTok,

and with a reality TV comeback, there is a striking amount of mainstream discourse towards

movies intertwined with not-so-subtle societal commentary. A study by IPSOS in 2024 points

to one plausible explanation: amongst 29 surveyed countries, 54% of Gen Z consumers see

inequality as the most significant or one of the most significant problems, the highest

concern amongst all generations (IPSOS, 2024). Additionally, a quarter of people across all

the questioned countries see it as the responsibility of the media, rather than governments or

employers, to push for change (IPSOS, 2024). This alone provides a strong incentive for

productions to touch on these themes. Paradoxically, people still love to admire the allure

created by the lavish lifestyles of uber-rich characters. According to Gaelle Mazraany’s

opinion piece, viewers love to hate rich characters on screen. She claims this sentiment was

further perpetuated by worsened inequality after the COVID-19 pandemic, which only

enriched the top 1%. In the overstimulated entertainment industry, it’s this

sentiment that studios like to monetize.

Many consider Bong Joon Ho’s movie Parasite (2019) a pioneer of this sharp critique of

inequality on screen. It describes the life of the very poor Korean Kim family, starkly

contrasted with the happenings in a rich household they slowly infiltrate, and offers a raw

commentary on greed and class discrimination. It also just happens to be one of Elon Musk’s

favorite movies (Hamilton, 2019). A similar duality doesn’t seem to bother the studios either.

In fact, what seems like a system error—critiquing profit for the sake of more profit—has

become a new industry standard. Not only do these more controversial takes in movies

capture a wider audience, but their popularity further drives gains. Squid Game, the show

about a deadly game for money, which all of you (and your 10-year-old cousin who loves Mr.

Beast) have certainly heard of, made record revenues in selling costumes and other

merchandise. The show’s moral on how lower classes can’t opt out of striving for money,

which dehumanizes them, was overshadowed by hype and even more consumption.

Similarly, The White Lotus series highlights imperialism, the white-washing of culture, as well

as the mistreatment of service workers by wealthy guests on luxury retreats. After the new

third season, online searches for the last filming location, the Four Seasons Koh Samui,

went up by 3454% (Thomas, 2025).

Why do people choose to watch anti-materialistic media just to consume again as the credits

roll down? Despite all these storylines that should awaken a desire for change, the more

important purpose of movies for many viewers is putting their senses to sleep after a tough

day at work. While movies are an important medium, assuming that people change their

beliefs, much less their behavior, after watching a movie or show, is highly unrealistic. The

way viewers are bombarded with information and stimuli lowers the impact of each singular

bit of information they access (Video essay, 2024). Moreover, the movies themselves may

inspire a lack of reflection because of the shallow portrayal of privileged villains: out-of-touch

people with no moral compass, who would stop at nothing to get just slightly more money,

lacking any other motive. While it is very enjoyable to hate this caricature, they seem so

disconnected that the average consumer feels a sort of moral superiority. Even if I had all

that money, I would not behave that badly. I would be one of the good ones... It’s much

easier for many to just see these movies as another fun, slightly elevated, “philosophical”

way of escaping the mundane routine.

All these factors mentioned make the socially satirical anticapitalist movie a perfect gateway

for big corporations like Netflix to cleverly feed these narratives to consumers and deliver

critically acclaimed movies without prompting many people to question the current state of

affairs regardless.

So you see, there is this elegant loop with capitalism selling anti-capitalism back to us, and

that at a markup. To be absolutely honest, I have no idea what happens next, or whether this

trend will prevail, with a case to be made for both sides. I also don’t offer a way of solving

inequality or capitalism. However, personally, I would like to be a bit more mindful of the

media I consume and to look for what the underlying, not-so-obvious messaging might be.

But first, I have to finish my binge of Love Island: Czechoslovakia. Take care.