This Year's Top-Grossing Blockbusters Instructed Us to Consume the Wealthy Yet Again. We Still Ignore the Message.

A familiar idea permeates many of 2025's blockbuster hits. This notion which extends back in time to the era of Charlie Chaplin. Within the DCU reboot *Superman*, the evil force is a envious, ruthless billionaire exploiting his vast wealth to smear Earth's greatest hero while manipulating world events to enrich himself. In *Jurassic World: Rebirth*, the antagonist is a rich pharma-bro squandering vast sums to trap the heroes into a prehistoric arena for his own profit. Within the animated sequel *Zootopia 2*, the antagonists are a clan of super-wealthy lynxes who stole a well-meaning mother's life-changing idea and set her up for murder, all for their financial benefit.

A Tradition of Cinematic Class Warfare

Within the dystopian thriller *The Running Man*, the antagonist plays a wealthy villain operating a TV network that earns a fortune by exploiting and murdering people enduring abject destitution, while leveraging digital impersonations and a sophisticated media apparatus to depict them as avaricious, indolent, terrifying criminals. The musical *Wicked: For Good* is less direct about economic inequality quite that directly, but its evil characters reside in conspicuous opulence while preying upon and oppressing Oz's poorest citizens, pushing them into unemployment and into cages or slavery. *Ne Zha 2*, the year's top film, contrasts the resourceful inhabitants of a impoverished farm town against haughty aristocrats who dwell in extravagant gleaming towers in the sky. Remarkably, the zany comedy reboot *The Naked Gun* focuses on a billionaire's plan to bring about worldwide catastrophe — for his own profit, needless to say.

It is not inherently notable in a series of movies assuming as fact that the affluent have too much power, are devoid of conscience, and a insatiable, privileged appetite for more wealth. "Rich people are villains and everyday folks are heroes" as a theme dates back to the birth of movies, with early comedies contrasting his chronically destitute iconic vagrant against corporate bosses, bosses, and inept, drunken millionaires. Starting with the Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland "Let’s put on a show" movies from that era to the 1980s dance movies that updated a similar story for the era of the rapacious, destructive Silicon Valley antagonist, the whole legacy of cinema is packed with "eat the rich" stories, which take it for granted that affluence is contrary to core morality, and applaud the defusing, defeat, and sometimes destruction of the rich and powerful.

The Outlet That Fails to Transform

However, inexplicably, we never get around to consuming the elite. On each occasion lawmakers follow a tragic gun violence event by pointing fingers at violent video games, I sigh with frustration, because if people actually were that impressionable — if repeated viewing to an idea via media was enough to cause it to infiltrate the societal mindset — undoubtedly American society wouldn’t still revere billionaires. Still the news demonstrates regularly that a alarming number of Americans subconsciously link affluence to intelligence and value to society, even after a century of the world's most beloved movies conveying the opposite.

If anything, it appears that the never-ending cycle of anti-wealth storylines in American cinema has created a relief valve that hinders substantive reform. Provided with a frequent serving of largely triumphant tales where the everyman triumphs, while the billionaires are neutralized and shamed, everyone can leave the theater feeling good about good conquering evil. These stories are like cautionary fables, implying that institutions function, and that plucky heroes will identify any corrupt individuals among the mostly industrious, moral, worthy wealthy who succeeded by their bootstraps.

A More Pointed Message in 2025

Although 2025's movies aren’t new in that respect, they do follow some recent trends among class warfare stories: They’re getting more furious, more incisive, more specific, and seemingly more lethal. It’s rarely enough nowadays to see rich people be taught a lesson in empathy, like in 1941's *Sullivan's Travels*, or forfeit their fortune to the people they oppressed, like in 1983's *Trading Places*. In 2025, avaricious, malicious wealthy people were killed by legendary creatures (*Death of a Unicorn*) and consumed by a colossal prehistoric creature (*Jurassic World: Rebirth*). They were blown up on a alien world (*Mickey 17*) and shot in the face at close range on national television (*The Running Man*). They were killed with a wine opener (*Companion*) and assaulted fatally by an up-and-coming rival (*Him*).

"Very few of 2025’s ultra-rich villains get the packed into a police car conclusion, perhaps because it’s become so apparent that the wealthy live by a separate justice system, and are very likely to buy their way out."

The "arrested and awaiting trial" outcome isn’t cathartic anymore. Rather, these villains are likely to die at the conclusion of their movies, often in notably grotesque, ironic ways.

Notable Outliers

A few stories differ, certainly. Lex Luthor in *Superman* is simply humiliated, exposed, and sent to prison. Monstrous manipulator Julian Dillinger in *Tron: Ares* finds himself confined to the virtual grid, where he’s clearly being saved for future installments. Korda in Wes Anderson's *The Phoenician Scheme* loses all his money and is reformed as a person. The wealthy lynx dynasty members in *Zootopia 2* are unmasked as frauds and deceivers, but they don’t meet|avoid