In a move that will surely send tremors through the hallowed halls of Pinewood and Shepperton, the Warner Bros-Paramount merger has been given the green light, creating a Hollywood behemoth with the cultural sensitivity of a bulldozer in a china shop. The British film industry, that plucky little island of plummy-voiced period dramas and gritty council estate epics, now braces for a future where its screens are dominated by superheroes with biceps the size of the Shard and plot holes you could drive a red Routemaster through. The merger, a $43 billion lovechild of corporate avarice and creative bankruptcy, promises 'synergies' and 'efficiencies'.
Which, in the real world, translates to 'fewer films about eccentric potters' and 'more sequels nobody asked for'. The British Film Institute has released a statement that reads like a eulogy: 'We remain committed to diverse storytelling, even as the transatlantic disruptor engine revs its engines.' Meanwhile, government ministers, still smarting from the Brexit-driven exodus of talent, are reportedly drafting a bill to mandate at least one scene per film featuring a soggy chip butty.
But let's be honest, this merger isn't about art. It's about data. It's about algorithm-driven content that keeps eyes glued to screens for the 0.
3 seconds it takes to sell them insurance. The winners: shareholders who can now buy a third yacht. The losers: everyone else, including the humble British filmgoer who just wanted to see a quirky indie about a man who falls in love with his cat.
That film will now be a reboot of *Cats* starring Dwayne Johnson as the fat one. So pour yourself a stiff gin, old boy. It's going to be a long, IP-infested night.
