Could a Netflix-Warner Merger Save Indie Film?

I was at a recent screening for Morgan Neville’s new film, Breakdown: 1975. Morgan and I grew up together in Santa Barbara making Super 8 movies while our classmates were out surfing and playing soccer. We’d shoot, edit, and screen our films for friends at school, sometimes even the local college. The fact that we both turned that kid obsession into real careers still feels impossible.

His new doc uses 1975 as a way to look at cinema as a cultural touchstone, a snapshot of how movies reflect the public’s mood and identity. Netflix co-CEO Ted Sarandos introduced the film as his personal passion project. He really is a movie guy, and was clearly proud of giving this one a greenlight.

This got me reflecting on what happens if Netflix ends up owning Warner Bros., one of the most important theatrical engines ever built. The story has been that Netflix is “anti-cinema.” Unsupportive of theaters, disrespectful of the form, uninterested in big screen exhibition.

People aren’t wrong to bring up screen-to-stream windows. Netflix didn’t build its business around the old rules, and they’ve clashed with the major chains for years. If you’re a theater owner, you have every reason to be suspicious of their incentives.

But “Netflix hates movies” doesn’t align with what they’ve actually financed.

They’ve backed filmmaker-driven swings that a risk-averse studio system would never greenlight. Guillermo del Toro finally getting Frankenstein mounted at scale, David Fincher making a precise adult thriller like The Killer with real support, and earlier, Netflix treating Roma like a serious film campaign, not just another thumbnail on their homepage.

Sitting in the Tudum theater, I wondered, if Netflix does acquire Warner Bros., what might the best version of that merger look like for cinema? And could it line up with what I believe is coming next, a creator-led surge of independent filmmaking?

Anxiety of Scale

Warner Bros. is a theatrical OG. Netflix is the new jack most associated with skipping theatrical at scale and compressing exclusivity. Put those brands together and the fear math is simple: Warner turns into “content,” and theaters get abandoned.

Exhibitors are raising the alarm. If theatrical becomes an afterthought, fewer kinds of movies will survive on the big screen. The menu for audiences will shrink even further.

But there could be an opportunity hiding in this anxiety.

A combined Netflix and Warner could build something the current business struggles to deliver on its own: a clear path from creator-led independent films to meaningful theatrical runs, followed by an extended life via streaming.

Warner knows theatrical. Netflix knows global scale. Put them together effectively and the next generation of online filmmakers and niche audiences could be on-deck for a golden age of cinema.

Upstream Has Moved

In the late 1960s and early 70s, the creative upstream flowed out of film schools, regional scenes, and a handful of rebellious producers willing to gamble on a new cohort. Now the upstream incubator is public platforms. YouTube, creator communities, direct audience building, filmmakers proving they can hold attention before they need to ask a legacy studio for permission.

That changes what “independent” can mean. It doesn’t have to mean small, it can mean outside-studio origin with an audience already engaged. While the studios still have to guess what people are willing to pay to see. The new creators already have the receipts.

So back to the bridge that makes the merger interesting.

Warner has theatrical muscle. Netflix has global streaming. But neither owns the new talent pipeline, because nobody does. The pipeline is grassroots and public, on YouTube and social, where filmmakers build an audience before ever pitching legacy Hollywood.

The merger works if Warner’s distribution and Netflix’s reach can turn online indie engagement into global audience activation.

“Event” Cinema Economics

A lot of the debate assumes there’s only one way to be pro-theater: long windows and lots of wide releases. But many think the U.S. has more screens than current habits can support. If that’s true, the answer isn’t pretending we’re in 2015. We need to make the remaining theatrical business healthy and sustainable.

Creator-led films could fit that world because they can function like events. Not every weekend, not every title, not every town. But when it works, it’s a genuine reason to “leave the house.” If the audience demand is real, theaters will add showtimes faster than the old model ever allowed.

The Easy Rider Test

If you haven’t heard of Iron Lung, it’s what I mean by the new type of creator-led cinema. Here’s why this matters to the merger: creator-led films with built-in audiences could become a new on-ramp to theatrical, the way Easy Rider signaled a generational shift in the 1970s.

Iron Lung is an upcoming horror feature based on a popular indie video game. It’s written, directed by, and starring Mark Fischbach, better known as Markiplier, one of the biggest YouTube creators. He’s built a community for years, and it’s not a passive audience. They organize. They show up.

Studios can spend tens of millions attempting to get people to notice a movie. Markiplier shows up with awareness already attached. Eyeballs don’t have to be purchased the old way. This isn’t a moral judgment, it’s a budgetary reality.

The online chatter around the film included a grassroots push of “put this in theaters,” and the release is now positioned as a theatrical moment arriving January 30, 2026. If it opens strong and holds, it becomes more than just an “influencer movie.” It becomes a proof point that a creator can originate the audience upstream, convert that into real ticket sales, and then hand the film off to a streaming platform for global reach.

That’s where the Easy Rider comparison comes in. Dennis Hopper’s motorcycle movie showed Hollywood a new generation could pull an audience without playing by the old rules. If Iron Lung hits, it tells the industry something parallel: a digital creator can deliver an analog crowd.

If anyone wants the story of how that 1970s shift played out, Peter Biskind’s Easy Riders, Raging Bulls is a great account of how the old model cracked, and a new cohort took the wheel.

A Structure for the “Creator Tier”

If Netflix wants a Warner merger to feel cinema-positive, it can’t be vibes and speeches. It needs to be built around how decisions get made, and how releases are scheduled. Here’s a shape:

— Keep Warner’s theatrical identity intact. Warner Bros. Pictures and New Line should still mean “movie in theaters.” Not always wide, not always long, but clear enough that the labels don’t drift into ambiguity.

— Create a dedicated home for creator-led features. A Warner-housed label, call it “WB Creator Features” or something close, whose job is simple: find creator-led projects with audience proof, fund finishing and marketing support, and guarantee a real theatrical engagement.

— Scout the feed, not just the festival. A WB Creator label shouldn’t only shop Sundance. It should have dedicated scouts watching who can actually pull an audience on YouTube and TikTok, then pairing those creators with the producing, development, and finishing support that turns internet momentum into a real feature.

— Adopt a “prove it, then go wider” release playbook. Start limited or semi-wide, expand only when the numbers justify it, expand again only if week two holds. Then let Netflix become the global second wave after the theatrical moment.

— Protect theatrical decision-making from streaming priorities. This is where most optimistic visions die. If theatrical is judged mainly by “does this keep people on the app,” the theater side will lose. A cinema-positive merger needs a real firewall, separate leadership accountability, and distribution authority that can’t be overridden because a dashboard wants a same-week drop.

— Treat theaters as partners, not optional marketing. Predictable output, standardized terms for the creator-feature track, and event playbooks that theaters can program with confidence: Q&As, special screenings, repertory pairings, local hooks.

Netflix doesn’t need to become a trad studio to make this model work. They just need to stop the ambiguity about what gets a theatrical life, and why. Some transparency would go a long way.

Incentive Trap

Here’s the cleanest objection: Netflix wins when people stay home. Theaters win when people leave it. Those incentives are in conflict. Even if leadership loves movies, a system can still push everything toward the couch.

So the optimistic version only works if the scoreboard changes, and if theatrical commitments are baked into a clear, objective structure, not handed off to what looks like subjective goodwill.

No More “Waiting for Permission”

You can shoot and finish your film at a pro level. You can build an audience in public while you’re still finding your voice. You can test whether people will show up in a room, not just tap a button. Then a platform can take the film worldwide without needing a traditional wide-release bet to justify the budget.

If enough projects like Iron Lung work, the industry will stop treating creator-led features like a novelty. It’ll treat them as a dependable source of bankable filmmakers and paying audiences.

For scribblers and filmmakers, the old path was: scribble the perfect spec, get agent, pitch the town, wait for permission.

The new path is: make something, find your people, prove you can pull a crowd.

If a Netflix-Warner merger creates a theatrical track for projects with an audience already attached, you want to be the filmmaker with proof in hand. This isn’t about selling out. It’s about giving your work its best chance to reach the most eyeballs.

It loops back to my Super 8 days. Shoot something, splice it together, screen it for your pals, get a reaction, then go on to make the next one. The tools are better now and the room is bigger. But the core process of creation remains the same.

The question isn’t “does Netflix love cinema.” But can they build an ecosystem that will support and empower the medium in new ways without abandoning theatrical traditions beloved by generations.