The theatrical exhibition industry is in long-term decline, but the recent antitrust lawsuit seeking to block the Paramount Skydance acquisition of Warner Bros. misidentifies the culprit. According to Nicholas Creel, an associate professor of business law at Georgia College & State University, the suit's focus on the merger's potential harm to movie theaters ignores the fact that consumers have already voted with their wallets—choosing streaming over the increasingly costly and inconvenient theater experience.
Creel, who appeared as a background extra in last summer's "Superman" film yet never saw it in theaters, points to his own behavior as emblematic of a broader trend. He and his family opted to wait for the movie to arrive on streaming, a decision mirrored by millions of Americans. The data supports this: annual ticket sales have plummeted from 1.6 billion in 2002 to just 769 million last year—a drop of more than half. This decline spans two decades and various ownership structures, undercutting the argument that consolidation is the root cause.
Instead, Creel argues, Hollywood has brought this on itself. Studios have inflated budgets and focused on franchise tentpoles, abandoning the mid-budget films that once filled theaters. This strategy trained audiences to view theaters as venues for "events" only. The industry has also adopted an airline-style pricing model, charging premium rates for opening nights—like the $50 tickets for "Dune: Part Three"—while rushing films to streaming platforms within weeks to feed their own digital ambitions. This cannibalization of the box office was a deliberate, if flawed, business choice, not an anti-consumer conspiracy.
The antitrust case, filed by a coalition of 12 state attorneys general, argues that combining two of Hollywood's five major studios would lead to higher ticket prices, fewer theatrical releases, and reduced variety. But Creel contends that these harms already exist and are not the result of market manipulation. Antitrust law, he says, is designed to protect consumers, not industries. Here, consumers have made a clear choice: they still watch movies, but they prefer to do so at home.
Creel acknowledges that a merger might lead to slightly higher prices for the dwindling number of theater-goers, but he insists that antitrust enforcement cannot force people to buy tickets. An injunction could preserve the number of competing studios, but it won't reverse the fundamental shift in consumer behavior. The real threat to theaters, he concludes, is an industry that spent two decades mistaking spectacle for value, pricing out its audience, and teaching viewers to wait for the home version.
This analysis resonates with broader debates about how antitrust law is applied in modern markets. Creel's argument suggests that regulators should focus on genuine market failures rather than trying to protect legacy business models. As the courts continue to shape antitrust doctrine, this case may become a test of whether consumer preferences or industry fears will guide enforcement.
For now, the lawsuit faces an uphill battle. The attorneys general will need to prove that the merger would harm competition in a way that consumers actually feel, not just in a theoretical sense. Creel's critique, grounded in data and market behavior, offers a compelling counter-narrative. Whether the courts agree remains to be seen, but the evidence suggests that the movie theater's decline is a story of self-inflicted wounds, not external consolidation.
