Of all the problems going on in the entertainment industry, the possibility of Warner Bros. Discovery deleting Coyote vs. Acme strikes as one of its most foreboding in some time.
The fully completed film is nearing the phantom zone of disappearing from existence solely for a tax bump, and the decision-making behind the story is even more worrisome and bleak than it already looks on its face.
Take it from Philip Alberstat, a former agent for WME now at M&A advisory firm Embarc Advisors, who told Indiewire:
“It’s not very popular, but at the end of the day, it’s driven by finance. It’s not art, it’s just business.”
Beyond the cruelty of erasing years of hard work from dedicated artists for a tax break, the Coyote vs. Acme situation — like the Batgirl and Scooby-Doo situations before it — hints to a budding anti-art industry mentality that is well into the process of viewing its products as disposable.
If this is the direction of what constitutes as good business, what does that mean for the art?
It’s not just Coyote vs. Acme‘s ignoble treatment that proves worrisome. Disney has made controversial decisions by pulling some streaming-exclusive movies and television shows from its streaming services for alternate (and occasionally nonexistent) futures.
The big-budget Willow sequel series is virtually nowhere to be found after being pulled from Disney+ last year, causing star Warwick Davis to slam the company for such an unfathomable move.
It’s heightening a reality where studios feel emboldened to throw away largely finished products for whatever reasons they feel make that disposal “good business.”
Just listen to Final Space creator Olan Rogers recently cope with the fact that people might not be able to watch his three-season animated series any longer after it got removed from circulation by Warner Bros. Discovery last fall.
The show has been scattered about since then rather than returned to streaming where it could be watched and enjoyed despite its cancellation. Most of the show is fully inaccessible through traditional venues at present.
These moves bizarrely make online piracy occasionally the surest way to find a film or television show that has been removed by the company that released it. Think about that: online piracy might be the best tool for preserving discarded streaming titles right now.
Physical media is also becoming less and less of a certainty. Just consider that the breakout horror hit Barbarian, released in theaters in 2022 to solid business and great reviews, still hasn’t gotten a physical release. Neither have movies like last summer’s comedy Bottoms or 2022’s acclaimed dark dramedy On the Count of Three (at least stateside). Best Buy will reportedly stop selling physical media altogether this year.
Movies aren’t even guaranteed to live a life on home video nowadays.
If a movie or television show gets pulled from a streaming service, doesn’t become available for digital purchase and has no physical copy to back it up, where does it go?
These are uneasy blips on a troubling radar for media that were largely unthinkable even 10 years ago. They’re emerging signs of an industry that is starting to view the art it creates as occasionally disposable entertainment —content unworthy of preservation or even the dignity of a release if business suggests it’s somehow worth more in the trash can than it is in the public.
Coyote vs. Acme‘s possible fate feels grossly abhorrent, deliriously unethical and really bad for business in public perception, but it is legal and possibly lucrative. The American tax system rewards this new, troubling trend.
Coyote vs. Acme probably won’t be the last completed film or television production that could be demolished for a tax break, and that should give everyone aggressive pause and a real pit in the stomach as we approach this destructive new era of film and television. One where very few productions are guaranteed to last.
It’s an era that will not sustain itself long-term.
