Is your favorite show even allowed to succeed anymore? Because the decision isn’t necessarily up to you, or even the creators. The real story here isn’t about peak TV or the streaming wars – it’s about how entertainment has quietly become a software business, and how that shift is systematically dismantling the old rules of creative success. A few months ago, a product manager at a major TV operating system casually revealed that an algorithm had demoted a show – a show that a studio had spent two years and $100 million making – to three rows down on the home screen, buried beneath AI-generated thumbnails tested across 12 real-time variants. The show didn’t fail in any traditional sense; it simply…disappeared.
This isn’t a cautionary tale about content saturation, or the perils of too many streaming services. Those are symptoms. The core issue is that every stage of entertainment – from filming with digital cameras to cloud-based editing, algorithmic recommendations, and programmatic ad auctions processing more daily transactions than major credit card companies – is now fundamentally driven by software. Shows aren’t just competing on artistic merit anymore; they’re competing on code. This isn’t inherently bad. More stories from diverse voices, delivered faster, is a potential upside. But only if the industry acknowledges this seismic shift and learns to play by the new rules.
This piece references the variety.com report.
Acting like a software industry demands speed. It requires building rapid feedback loops, understanding audiences during production, and testing assumptions before committing nine-figure budgets. The goal isn’t simply churning out cheap content, but giving genuinely creative projects a fighting chance to connect with audiences, both commercially and culturally. Right now, studios are making massive creative investments and then handing the fate of those investments over to algorithms they don’t control. That’s not supporting the craft; it’s a high-stakes gamble. The entertainment industry needs to proactively invest in owning its technological future, rather than passively accepting whatever the tech giants dictate.
AI is the most visible manifestation of this change, and potentially the most powerful creative tool of our generation. Adobe’s Firefly, for example, allows writers to test story structures and producers to previsualize sequences before a single dollar is spent. Marketing teams can identify target audiences before launch, not after. The studios and streamers that build these capabilities internally, or through strategic partnerships, will be the ones making the best work. Those who wait will be forced to rent these tools from the very technology companies already controlling distribution and, increasingly, intellectual property. This isn’t about resisting AI; it’s about controlling the terms of engagement.
But the problem extends beyond AI. Across gaming, film, and television, intermediaries are inserting themselves between creators and their audiences. A handful of companies – Apple, Google, Amazon, Microsoft – control the operating systems apps run on, unilaterally decide which apps get prominent placement, and take a substantial cut of subscription revenue. They control the flow of data, and dictate who gets access to it. Within streaming TV, another layer of software decides which shows get the coveted home screen real estate and which vanish into the infinite scroll. A streamer can build a loyal audience and invest heavily in content, only to remain at the mercy of the operating system owner.
The streaming industry spent the last decade focused on subscriber acquisition, while operating systems quietly amassed leverage. It’s a familiar pattern in tech: own the OS, own the power. We saw it on mobile, in search, and on social media. Now, it’s happening in media. Netflix’s success, for example, is contingent on its ability to navigate the rules set by Apple’s App Store and Amazon’s Fire TV. This isn’t a level playing field.
AI is now raising the stakes again. Platforms are using AI to generate “sufficient” content – programming designed to be good enough that most viewers won’t notice its lack of originality, and cheap enough that it doesn’t matter if they do. If this AI-generated content occupies prime real estate on operating systems or social platforms, with no transparency into how other work is surfaced or monetized, what leverage do creators have left? Software and AI, when implemented thoughtfully, can unlock new opportunities and better tools. But that requires transparency, something currently lacking in systems controlled by gatekeepers with conflicting incentives. The industry needs to rally around open tools for creation, distribution, and monetization.
The next 18 months will be critical. The AI layer isn’t yet locked in, and neither are the dominant platforms. There’s a window of opportunity, but it’s closing fast. Here’s what needs to happen: map your “landlords” – identify the companies sitting between you and your audience, calculate their revenue share, and understand their motivations. Build collective leverage – the open internet isn’t guaranteed, and a healthy ecosystem requires consumer choice, creator ownership, and the dismantling of single points of control. Demand data – if a streaming app can’t provide insights into content discovery, viewership, and drop-off rates, it’s not a partner, it’s a rent-seeker. And finally, invest in the how as much as the what – build internal AI and software teams, use data to inform creative decisions, and treat technology as a creative advantage, not a cost center.
I’ve seen firsthand the impact of technology on entertainment, both as a builder of platforms and as a collaborator with studios and creators. I know what happens when an industry waits for someone else to solve its problems. So, here’s my prediction: within the next two years, we’ll see a major studio – or a consortium of them – launch a direct-to-consumer platform built not just for streaming, but for owning the entire tech stack, from content creation tools to algorithmic recommendations. They won’t just be distributing content; they’ll be building the infrastructure for the future of entertainment. The question is, will they do it before the operating system owners cement their control?
