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For decades, Hollywood has operated on a deceptively simple premise: the bigger the audience, the bigger the business. Greenlight the show that everybody might watch, build the franchise that can dominate the box office, acquire the streaming subscribers who will hopefully stick around, and sell advertisers access to the largest possible crowd.

That model is not dead. But it is becoming an increasingly expensive way to grow.
Audiences are fragmented across streaming services, YouTube, TikTok, gaming, podcasts, social media and an expanding universe of creator-led entertainment. There are only so many hours in a day, and the competition for them extends far beyond traditional media. Meanwhile, generative AI is lowering the barriers to producing content, threatening to make the supply of entertainment even more abundant while making attention no less scarce.

The strategic question for media executives, then, should not simply be how to reach more people. It should be how to build a deeper relationship with the people who already care.

In two influential essays, journalists who follow the creator space offer up possible solutions.

Producer Ben Odell, writing for Open Gardens, argues that Hollywood's future may depend less on getting bigger than on getting deeper:

While media analyst Doug Shapiro has developed the concept of "fan surplus": the untapped willingness of devoted fans to spend more time, money and emotional energy on the intellectual property they love:

Consumer surplus is the term economists use to describe the excess value that accrues to the consumers that are willing to pay more than the market price. Consider Figure 1. Other than edge cases where demand is entirely inelastic, demand curves slope down, like this one. The market-clearing price occurs where supply meets demand. Since the demand curve slopes down, that means all the demand to the left of the market price represents consumers whose willingness-to-pay (WTP) was higher.

Let’s take demand for lattes and assume that the market clearing price is $5. There may be some who would pay $12, some $10, some $7, and so on. The difference between their WTP and what they actually pay is consumer surplus.

Figure 1. Consumer Surplus is What Accrues to All the People Who Would’ve Spent More

Strictly speaking, consumer surplus arises because some people would pay more than others for the same thing. I’ll coin a related concept, which I’ll call fan surplus: excess willingness (or eagerness) of fans to engage more deeply, more frequently, and across more dimensions with their favorite characters, artists, creators, teams, or stories.

The implications of this are substantial. The next phase of entertainment growth may come not from persuading millions of casual viewers to watch one more series, but from giving a smaller group of passionate fans more reasons to stay engaged between releases, spend across more categories and bring other people into their favorite fictional worlds.

In other words, Hollywood needs to stop treating fandom as a marketing outcome and start treating it as a business model.

The attention economy has a ceiling. Fandom doesn't have to.

Evan Shapiro has long been making the argument that there is a fundamental distinction between attention and engagement. Attention is finite: one person can watch only so much television, scroll through so many videos or play so many games. Engagement, by contrast, can deepen almost indefinitely.

A viewer might watch a Star Wars movie and move on. A devoted fan might watch it repeatedly, buy collectibles, attend conventions, read companion books, participate in online communities, play games set in the same universe and pay for access to exclusive events. Both count as viewers. Only one represents a potentially expansive customer relationship.

That difference matters because entertainment companies have historically optimized for reach. Ratings, box office, subscriber counts and advertising impressions reward scale. They are much less effective at measuring the value of a person who watches the same episode five times, buys merchandise, participates in fan discussions and persuades friends to become customers.

Digital distribution has changed the equation. Companies can now track behavior, offer different products to different audiences and sell directly to consumers. Yet much of the industry still organizes itself around a relatively narrow transaction: produce content, distribute it, sell advertising or charge a subscription, then repeat.

Shapiro's research on South Korean entertainment company HYBE offers a different model. Its business extends beyond recorded music into touring, merchandise, licensing, video content and fan clubs. Its Weverse platform brings artists and fans together through communications, commerce and exclusive experiences, giving the company a direct relationship with its audience. In his analysis of 2023 revenue, Shapiro estimates that more than half of HYBE's revenue came from activities beyond recorded music, which he broadly classifies as fandom-related businesses.

The lesson is not that every studio should manufacture its own K-pop group. It is that a successful entertainment property can be the starting point for a much larger business.

Hollywood already knows how to build franchises. It has been less consistent about building the infrastructure that allows fans to participate in those franchises between installments.

From intellectual property to a continuing relationship

Consider the major entertainment conglomerates' most valuable assets: Disney's characters and universes, Warner Bros.' DC properties, NBCUniversal's Jurassic World and Fast & Furious franchises, or the enormous worlds surrounding Harry Potter and Star Trek.

These properties have passionate audiences, established histories and seemingly endless opportunities for new experiences. But the consumer relationship is often still organized around release cycles. A movie arrives, marketing ramps up, merchandise goes on sale, and the machinery eventually quiets down until the next installment.

What if Hollywood was designed differently?

Imagine a franchise membership that combines early access to new releases, exclusive behind-the-scenes programming, collectible merchandise, live conversations with creators, fan events, interactive storytelling and community features. A premium tier might include screenings, limited-edition products or opportunities to participate in selected creative experiences.

Not every fan would want all of those benefits. That's precisely the point. A casual viewer could continue to buy a ticket or subscribe to a streaming service and have a completely satisfying experience. While a devoted fan could choose a deeper level of participation.

Disney's D23 fan club already demonstrates elements of this approach, offering memberships with collectible items, special events, discounts and access to experiences tied to Disney's entertainment and theme-park businesses. Its 2026 Gold membership options range from $49.99 to $329.99 annually, depending on the benefits and collectibles included.

This is a more interesting proposition than simply putting another exclusive series behind another paywall. It sells access, identity, community and participation — things that can remain valuable even when no new episode is available.

It also gives rights holders something increasingly precious: a direct relationship with consumers that does not depend entirely on an outside platform's recommendation algorithm.

Hallmark+ shows that knowing your fans isn't enough

Hallmark provides a particularly instructive case study because it has something many entertainment brands would envy: a clearly identifiable audience with strong emotional attachments to its programming.

In September 2024, the company relaunched Hallmark Movies Now as Hallmark+, combining streaming access and original programming with retail rewards, monthly coupons, greeting cards, shopping benefits and other membership perks. The service was explicitly designed to connect Hallmark entertainment with the company's broader lifestyle and retail business.

On paper, the logic was sound. Hallmark fans are not simply watching movies; many embrace a recognizable aesthetic built around seasonal rituals, romance, family, comfort and holiday traditions. The company has an opportunity to connect those emotional attachments with products and experiences throughout the year.

But Hallmark+ also illustrates the difference between having a loyal audience and converting that loyalty into a successful membership business.

The service has not publicly established itself as a breakout streaming success on the scale of the major subscription platforms, and Hallmark does not routinely disclose comparable paid-subscriber figures that would allow outsiders to judge its economics. But Hallmark’s decision to cut back on the service’s original programming and shift some content back to the linear network suggests it has been a disappointment.

It would be premature to declare Hallmark+ a commercial failure. Its performance is difficult to assess conclusively from the available public data. But the experience offers a warning: a strong brand and an identifiable fan base do not automatically produce a compelling paid membership.

Bundling streaming with retail rewards may create value for existing shoppers, but the proposition can become confusing if the benefits do not align with what different customers actually want. A viewer who primarily wants early access to Hallmark movies may not care about greeting cards. A shopper who loves Hallmark merchandise may not need another streaming subscription.

The broader lesson is that superfans are not a single demographic, and their willingness to pay is not unlimited. Companies must identify what different groups value, build products around those preferences and demonstrate that the benefits justify the price.

Fandom is an opportunity, not a license to charge for everything.

MS NOW is betting that access can become a business

The latest test comes from an unlikely corner of the media business: cable news.
MS NOW launched its first direct-to-consumer membership program on September 9th, offering subscriptions for $7.99 per month or $79.99 annually. The package includes a 24-hour live network feed through its website and mobile app, exclusive programming, live question-and-answer sessions with anchors and reporters, ad-free articles, on-demand video and member discussion forums.

The proposition is not merely to sell more news. It is to give the network's most engaged viewers a closer relationship with its journalists and a community in which to discuss the issues that matter to them.

That is a meaningful distinction. News organizations have spent years building audiences on social platforms they do not control. MS NOW's membership program offers a way to turn some of that engagement into a direct commercial relationship.

But early criticism also illustrates how difficult execution can be. Last week, I praised the potential of the live Q&As while questioning the value of a membership whose live television feed was unavailable through the network's smart-TV apps. I also noted that the discussion forums had yet to develop substantial member-to-member interaction.

Those shortcomings go to the heart of the fandom business. Access is valuable only when it is convenient, and a community is not created simply by providing a message board. It requires recognizable people, regular interaction and a reason for members to return.

MS NOW has a potentially compelling asset in its roster of journalists and on-air personalities. The challenge is to translate their existing relationships with viewers into an experience that feels meaningfully different from watching television or following them on social media.

The network's membership is still new, and it is too early to determine its commercial outcome. But it provides a useful experiment for entertainment companies: if audiences are willing to pay for greater access to journalists they trust, they may also pay for more meaningful access to the actors, writers, directors and fictional worlds they love.

The business should follow the fan, not the platform

There is a larger strategic implication here. Media companies have spent much of the streaming era trying to own the destination: the app, the subscription, the interface and the customer account.

But owning a streaming service is not the same as owning a fan relationship.
A subscription gives a customer access to a library. A fandom business gives that customer reasons to participate even when there is nothing new to watch.

That might mean a Star Trek community that connects new episodes with archival material, live discussions, collectible releases and fan conventions. It could mean a Bridgerton membership built around its literary origins, costumes, music and social events. A video game publisher might connect its players to developers, exclusive digital items, competitions and community-created content.

The best offerings would not simply recycle promotional material or lock ordinary features behind a fee. They would create genuinely new value around the underlying intellectual property.

There are already lessons to draw from outside Hollywood. Gaming companies have long understood that a relatively small portion of their players can account for a disproportionate share of spending. Music companies have developed direct-to-fan commerce, premium fan clubs and exclusive merchandise. Disney's D23 program shows how a major entertainment brand can extend its relationship with customers beyond the screen.

The opportunity for studios and streamers is to connect these activities into a coherent strategy rather than leaving merchandise to one division, community management to another and streaming subscriptions to a third.

That requires organizational change. A franchise's success should not be measured only by opening-weekend box office or the number of people who watch its latest season. Companies should also track repeat engagement, direct customer relationships, membership retention, merchandise purchases, event participation and the lifetime value of their most devoted fans.

Just as importantly, they need to protect the trust that makes fandom valuable. Aggressive monetization, endless spin-offs and low-quality merchandise can exhaust goodwill. Fans are not an inexhaustible resource to be mined; they are people who have chosen to care.

Hollywood needs fewer passive viewers and more active participants

There is a danger in taking the superfandom argument too far. Blockbusters still matter. Broad audiences remain essential to advertising, theatrical distribution and the cultural impact that makes franchises valuable in the first place. Not every successful film needs a paid community, and not every television series can support a merchandise business.

Nor should companies assume that a small, intensely engaged audience can always compensate for weak mass-market demand.

The better strategy is to combine broad reach with deeper engagement. Use movies, television and streaming to introduce stories to large audiences, then give the people who want more a compelling way to go further.

This is particularly important as AI makes content production faster and potentially cheaper. If audiences face an ever-expanding supply of entertainment, simply producing more may become a less reliable competitive advantage. Relationships, recognizable identities and communities could become more durable differentiators.

Hollywood has spent decades perfecting the art of getting people to watch. Its next challenge is to give people reasons to stay.

The companies that succeed will understand that intellectual property is more than a title in a content library. It is a shared world, a source of identity and, at its most powerful, a relationship that can last for years.

The future may not belong exclusively to the companies with the biggest audiences. It may belong to those that know what their most devoted fans want - and can deliver it without taking their loyalty for granted.

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The argument that media companies should prioritize deeper relationships with audiences over ever-greater reach presents a fundamental challenge to Skydance’s strategy. Its combination with Paramount was built around the proposition that scale — in content, distribution, technology and global reach — can restore competitiveness in an industry where individual streaming services struggle to achieve sustainable economics.

But scale is a means, not a business model. A larger library, more franchises and broader distribution do not automatically translate into stronger customer loyalty or better returns. In an increasingly crowded market, the crucial question is whether Skydance can turn its enlarged portfolio into relationships that audiences actively choose to maintain.

The opportunity is considerable. Paramount has recognizable intellectual property spanning Star Trek, SpongeBob SquarePants, Mission: Impossible and Yellowstone. Skydance brings its own production capabilities and ambitions across film, television and other entertainment businesses. Properly managed, that combination could support a more connected ecosystem in which theatrical releases, streaming, consumer products, games, live experiences and fan communities reinforce one another.

The danger is that integration becomes the strategy, with cost savings, subscriber totals and content volume eclipsing the harder task of cultivating devotion. Skydance has pledged at least $6 billion in annual synergies within three years, while its combined business carries substantial financial and operational complexity.

The superfan thesis therefore does not argue against scale; it argues for making scale serve loyalty. Skydance should measure success not just by how many people watch a franchise, but by how often they return, how long they remain subscribers and how much more they choose to spend across its ecosystem.

Its real competitive advantage may not be owning more of Hollywood than its rivals. It may be making audiences care more about what it owns.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 13TH:
Chitose Is In The Ramune Bottle (Crunchyroll)
Dark Machine The Animation Series Premiere (Crunchyroll)
Frontline: American Voices 2026 (PBS)
Ludwig Season Two Premiere (BritBox)
Michael Che: Shot In Minnesota (Netflix)
The Trap Series Premiere (Netflix)
Tyson (Netflix)

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 14TH:
Helluva Boss Season Three Premiere (Prime Video)
Houdini: Back From The Dead (Fox Nation)
Love Is Blind Season Premiere (Netflix)
Love Of Your Life (Prime Video)
Mike Judge's Beavis And Butt-Head (Comedy Central)
Secrets Of The Dead: Africa’s Golden City (PBS) - (trailer)
The Lowdown Season Two Premiere (FX)