The Extended Universe

Look, there’s a book coming in 2026 that’s going to make a lot of people uncomfortable—and honestly, that’s exactly why you need to read it. The Extended Universe: How Disney Killed the Movies and Took Over the World is set to be released by Haymarket Books next year, and the premise alone is generating serious buzz before it even hits shelves. This isn’t just another hot take on corporate consolidation; this is a reckoning with how one company fundamentally transformed not just entertainment, but our entire cultural landscape.

What makes this book so anticipated right now is the sheer timeliness of its argument. We’re living in a moment where the entertainment industry is more centralized than ever, where franchise fatigue is becoming a genuine cultural conversation, and where independent filmmaking feels increasingly like a luxury rather than a viable career path. The subtitle pulls no punches: we’re not dealing with measured analysis here—this is a provocation wrapped in rigorous critique.

The real question isn’t whether blockbusters are good or bad. It’s whether we’re allowing a single corporate vision to dictate what stories get told, who gets to tell them, and what we’re encouraged to value as audiences.

The context makes this particularly sharp. Consider what’s happening right now:

• Major studios are releasing multiple interconnected franchise films annually
• Box office expectations have become almost impossible to meet (as one source notes, anything under $1 billion is considered disappointing)
• Independent cinema continues to struggle for theatrical distribution and audience attention
• Corporate synergy has become the primary organizing principle of film production
• The line between entertainment, marketing, and brand management has essentially dissolved

Haymarket Books, the publisher, is known for bringing serious leftist analysis to mainstream conversations about culture and politics. That they’re releasing this book suggests we’re not getting a conventional industry critique—this will be a structural examination of how market consolidation reshapes art, labor, and collective imagination.

The fascinating part is trying to piece together what the author is building here. We don’t know much about their previous work yet, but clearly they’re constructing an argument that goes beyond “Disney makes too many movies.” The real thesis seems to be about cultural hegemony—how one company’s aesthetic, values, and storytelling assumptions become so pervasive that they feel inevitable rather than chosen.

Think about the domino effect:

1. A single corporation controls multiple studios
2. Those studios operate under unified strategic thinking
3. That thinking prioritizes franchise expansion over original narratives
4. Creative professionals internalize these priorities as “what works”
5. Audiences gradually forget there were ever other options
6. The entire ecosystem restructures around this new normal

This book is anticipated to spark some genuinely uncomfortable conversations across the industry. Critics will likely dismiss it as anti-corporate grandstanding. Studio executives will probably ignore it while their PR teams craft dismissive responses. But screenwriters, directors, cinematographers, and anyone who cares about cinema as an art form rather than merely a content pipeline will be reading closely. It’s the kind of book that gets cited in arguments, shared in film school classrooms, and maybe—just maybe—referenced when younger creators think about what they actually want their careers to become.

The timing of 2026 is almost too perfect. We’re heading into what could be a watershed moment for American cinema. Will audiences continue accepting an endless parade of interconnected franchises, or are we witnessing the early stages of genuine backlash? Will streaming consolidation continue unchecked, or will regulation finally catch up? Will independent filmmakers find new pathways to reach audiences, or will theatrical distribution become exclusively a playground for massive corporations?

A book like this doesn’t solve those problems. But it names them clearly, documents how we got here, and refuses the comfortable narrative that this was somehow inevitable.

What’s most compelling is that this analysis will be landing exactly when people are most primed to receive it. 2026 will see major superhero releases, interconnected franchise announcements, and continued conversations about what Hollywood has become. This book won’t be an outlier voice—it’ll be the voice articulating what many people are already sensing but haven’t yet managed to express.

The book is set to challenge us to think differently about the relationship between entertainment, power, and imagination. Whether you emerge agreeing with every argument or not, The Extended Universe is clearly positioned to be one of those rare cultural critiques that actually gets read beyond academic circles. When it releases next year, it’s going to matter. That’s worth paying attention to now.