Netflix has agreed to acquire Warner Bros. Discovery’s film studio, HBO, Max, and the rest of its streaming and production assets for a casual $72 billion. Yes, the same Netflix that once mailed you DVDs in those flimsy red envelopes is now apparently collecting entire Hollywood studios the way some people collect Funko Pops.
The deal instantly catapults Netflix from “that company that ruined Blockbuster” to “that company that basically owns half of everything you binge-watch while stress-eating cereal at 2 a.m.” Analysts say the marriage would give Netflix control of roughly 45 percent of the premium streaming market, which is the polite way of saying “please enjoy your new monopoly, now with extra Batman.”
Social media is already flooded with memes of Netflix raising prices faster than you can say “Are you still watching?” Because nothing says “customer appreciation” like absorbing HBO’s entire prestige catalog and immediately celebrating with another $3 monthly hike.
Meanwhile, theater chains are nervously refreshing their lease agreements. One more major studio vanishing into the Netflix mothership means fewer blockbuster releases, shorter theatrical windows, and even more confused grandparents asking why the new Superman movie went straight to “the Netflix” before they could find their reading glasses.
The transaction is expected to take up to 18 months to close, giving regulators plenty of time to read the 10,000-page document and still come out confused. Netflix is only buying the studio and streaming pieces, not the whole Warner Bros. Discovery enchilada—think of it as ordering the lobster but leaving the rest of the seafood tower for someone else.
Paramount Global, still sore from losing the bidding war, is reportedly sharpening its legal claws and speed-dialing every politician who ever accepted a campaign donation. Sources say Paramount’s master plan includes antitrust lawsuits, sad violin music, and possibly reminding the Trump administration that Netflix once canceled a show after one season (the ultimate betrayal).
Even Comcast peeked out from its cable fortress long enough to mutter “we could have done it better” before retreating back to figuring out why nobody wants landlines anymore.
Senator Elizabeth Warren fired off an X post declaring the deal “an anti-monopoly nightmare,” which is Washington-speak for “I have discovered streaming exists and I am very concerned.” Republican lawmakers quickly joined the chorus, proving that when it comes to hating Big Tech mergers, bipartisanship is alive and well.
Netflix co-CEO Ted Sarandos insists the deal simply “gives audiences more of what they love.” Translation: prepare for 47 different versions of The Batman, none of which will ever leave the platform.
The company is banking on the “but look at Apple, Amazon, and YouTube” defense—basically arguing that the streaming yard is so crowded, adding one more 800-pound gorilla barely counts. Netflix has also helpfully included a $5.8 billion breakup fee, which is corporate for “we’re super confident, but here’s a giant pile of cash in case the government says no.”
Insiders say Netflix is already rehearsing its concession speech: “Fine, we’ll sell CNN or the TCM library, just let us keep the DC superheroes, pretty please.”
Hollywood creatives are quietly updating their résumés while publicly tweeting support emojis. After all, fewer studios mean fewer buyers, which means even tougher negotiations for that seven-figure overall deal you were dreaming about.
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