Why Hollywood No Longer Produces Superstars

Star power, or the ability of an actor to consistently draw audiences to a film or TV show, has waned and wobbled in the 21st century if not outright collapsed. From Florence Lawrence and Charlie Chaplin all the way through Julia Roberts and Denzel Washington, star power once stood at the epicenter of Hollywood’s business model. But after almost a century, its rapid erosion is setting up the industry for failure. What’s behind the decline of stardom? And could Hollywood ever revive the creation of commercially viable leading men and women again? 

While talent and the elusive “it” factor are always at play, the rigid studio system that reigned Hollywood from the 1920s through the 1950s played a central role in creating stars. This model placed the industry in the control of a few dominant studios and left actors beholden to stringent long-term contracts with little freedom. While this model limited control of their own careers, it also ensured that actors were at the forefront of a studio’s robust development, marketing and distribution machine. 

Even after the studio system collapsed in the 1960s, major companies still held significant power over talent. However, as their power waned, so too did the emphasis on formal training for actors. 

“When I got to Hollywood in the 1980s, the studios just stopped signing actors to seven-year studio contracts that would put the actor on a trajectory course to stardom,” Linda Ann Watt, author of the The Actor’s Manifesto and founder of the Academy of Acting, told Observer. “Back in the day, studios had their actors take diction, acting, dance and singing lessons. Now, the actor has to navigate this area themselves to be a well-rounded success.” 

Talent empowerment was needed to create a more equitable system. Yet, what could not be anticipated or controlled was the proliferation of entertainment options. Where once upon a time consumers could choose from a select crop of film studios and television networks, now the competition for our withering attention spans and disposable income is as endless as the credits to a Marvel movie. The abundance of choice has watered down the concept of star power. 

“Unlike the traditional stars of the 20th century, there are far more intricate elements at play now,” Dylan Davey, founder of The Social Inc., a talent management and branding company, told Observer. “Back then, a studio could promote an actor heavily and establish their name as a box office draw because the entertainment options were more limited. Audiences, especially younger ones who set the trends, are no longer bound to what a studio or network puts in front of them.” 

YouTube, TikTok and the tidal wave of streaming has fragmented the entertainment media ecosystem into an endless sea of niches versus the once dominant shared monoculture. It also rerouted the power of consumption from the preset schedules and parameters of film studios and TV networks to the consumer, who now has complete control of what, when and how they watch their favorite entertainment. As such, building and maintaining the presence of big-name actors has become more challenging. Unless we want to relinquish all connection to the internet, this won’t change. 

“It will never be able to go back to studios being able to control and develop stars as it used to be,” Watt said. 

The “inevitable” rise of the franchise culture

Labor progress and developing technology are not the only catalysts behind Hollywood’s shift. The business of storytelling itself has evolved, shaped by audience behavior, executive decision-making and changing economics.

Audiences vote with their wallets and, historically, were drawn to films based on who starred in them. A recognizable name was often enough to draw walk-up business and audience interest. However, by the mid-2000s, the question was no longer “Who’s in this film?” but “Do I know this franchise and character?” 

Scott Mendelson, a box office expert at Puck News and founder of The Outside Scoop, argues that the rise of franchise culture was inevitable. “The generation that created one-and-done hits in the 1980s and 90s never retired and are still the Hollywood tastemakers of the moment,” he told Observer. “It’s not a coincidence that the stars of the 2010s broke out by playing new versions of Captain Kirk or Spider-Man. They never got a chance to establish themselves as themselves.” 

Stars like Sandra Bullock, Denzel Washington and Leonardo DiCaprio avoided franchise fare, which allowed them to maintain their drawing power for non-IP films. These stars also didn’t rely on social media to build their brands and are rarely present on the mainstream stage when not promoting films. In contrast, actors such as Robert Downey Jr. and Johnny Depp, once considered chameleonic talents, became so closely associated with defining roles as Iron Man and Jack Sparrow that it can be difficult for audiences to separate them from their franchise characters. 

Profitability was more reachable back then as budgets rarely topped $100 million. Today, blockbuster budgets have ballooned; the theatrical window is shorter than ever; and the market is oversaturated with big scale fantastical storytelling that was once uncommon at multiplexes. What’s most concerning is the lack of spillover from these tentpole titles to smaller features. 

For instance, while Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull grossed nearly $800 million worldwide in 2008, it didn’t prevent Harrison Ford’s next four films from disappointing. The once transformative halo effect in which talents like Bruce Willis could parlay their franchise success into higher profiles for their non-blockbuster work is gone. 

In the past, franchise hits subsidized smaller, non-franchise films and boosted an actor’s all-around appeal. Today, however, these franchises are the lifeblood of Hollywood and only feed titles that fall within a given IP. The model is no longer about balancing franchise tentpoles with smaller bets; it’s about chasing the next big series. 

“Even as recently as 20 years ago, franchises were rare enough that Bryan Singer making X-Men and a Superman movie was notable,” Mendelson said. “Fast forward to the 2010s and it became almost expected that J.J. Abrams would hop from Star Trek to Star Wars. Hollywood doesn’t distribute the mid-budget fare that used to be its bread and butter anymore.” 

The need for new stars

Reviving star power is not as simple as delivering quality mid-budget films. Hollywood has continued to do that in the 21st century only to be met with a shrug of indifference from audiences more often than not.

Actors like Timothée Chalamet, Zendaya, Tom Holland, Florence Pugh and Austin Butler are exciting young talents, but none have proven they’re consistently able to draw audiences to non-franchise films. For every major franchise success like Spider-Man: No Way Home and Dune: Part Two, there are smaller efforts that fail to make notable box office dents like Beautiful Boy and The Bikeriders. (The same goes for many stars that broke out in the 2010s). 

“The industry and studios can play a big role in developing a new generation of stars by shifting focus towards low to mid-budget, non-IP projects early in an actor’s career journey,” Davey said. “These types of initiatives give emerging talent the opportunity to showcase their skills without being overshadowed.” 

Before Tom Cruise was synonymous with death-defying action, he built his career by working with beloved filmmakers such as Ridley Scott, Martin Scorsese, Steven Spielberg and Stanley Kubrick in (relatively) grounded, star-driven dramas. Similarly, DiCaprio uses his star-power to make well-received prestigious adult-skewing event movies. Star power was traditionally built through well-crafted films that showcased a range of talent, as opposed to generic $200 million blockbusters and personal social media. 

Hollywood faces monumental financial pressures, especially on the back of the pandemic and production shutdowns. However, enduring some short-term pain by developing and investing in more affordable non-IP films with emerging talent can raise the long-term ceiling of the industry. A better balance between big franchises and smaller, more diverse films—and an emphasis on talent development and strategic public availability—can help foster the next generation of stars. 

“The theatrical industry needs to invest in three-to-four years of star-vehicles that allow well-liked young actors to play normal character types like a lawyer, doctor or spurned bride as opposed to a marquee franchise character,” Mendelson said. “That’s how you get people to show up for movies that are just movies, which helps give high concept and new-to-you films a chance and gets us out of this franchise rut.”