Bad movies, good business: how sanitised biopics became a Hollywood staple

Last month, Ryan Gosling addressed an audience about to see his new movie. ‘It’s not your job to keep cinemas open,’ he told them. ‘It’s our job to make things that make it worth you coming out.’ This is a strategy radically different to that adopted in the immediate aftermath of the pandemic, when studios believed the best way to get people to leave their homes and buy cinema tickets was to hector them to do so. It proved a nasty error of judgment. Audiences voted with their feet, by putting on their slippers and turning on Netflix. Blockbusters bombed, and 40% of screens in the US closed. A rear-view mirror problem—the advent of streaming—was suddenly in close-up. Projections suggest that the box office might bounce back to pre-pandemic levels in 2030—pending further disasters. As for Gosling, he first adopted the tactic of flattering consumers—and taking responsibility for the future of his own industry—in the summer of 2023. Then, he was promoting *Barbie*, which made $1.4bn (£1.2bn) and became the highest-grossing film of that year. The highest-grossing opening of 2026 so far is Gosling’s new movie, *Project Hail Mary*, which took $141m over its first weekend, for a rolling total of $577m. Yet *Mary* is now almost certain to be usurped by Michael, Antoine Fuqua’s biopic of Michael Jackson. The two films—and, indeed, *Barbie*—share key DNA: their success relies on appealing to fans rather than cineastes or critics. Audiences go to see them as an event, not a critical analysis. Antoine Fuqua’s *Michael*, the most expensive music biopic ever made at $200m, is currently tracking to take $165m over its first three days. Less than half of that would come from the US, yet it’s likely to secure the highest ever domestic opening for a music biopic, beating both *Straight Outta Compton* ($60m) and *Bohemian Rhapsody* ($51m). *Michael* shares a producer, Graham King, with *Freddie Mercury*, which wound up taking $911m, making it the biggest music biopic ever by a margin of more than $600m. The film also avoids the third-act reshoots due to a legal settlement with one of Jackson’s accusers, shifting the narrative to 1988. Reviews were mixed: Peter Bradshaw wrote in the *Guardian*, *“A frustratingly shallow, inert picture,”* while Alissa Wilkinson in the *New York Times* called it *“insulting both to audience and subject.”* Despite this, audiences seem indifferent to critical reception. The broader trend is clear: audiences prioritize a sing-song experience over veracity. Steven Gaydos, former executive editor of *Variety*, notes, *“The fans want to go see somebody dance and hear the greatest hits—they don’t care if the story resembles reality.”* Directors like Kevin MacDonald, whose work spans documentary and fiction, agree: *“Audiences don’t seem to care [about truth]. Many of these films are pure fan service.”* The music biopic’s success hinges on broad strokes, clichés, and reliable needle drops. *Bohemian Rhapsody*’s recreation of Live Aid’s final 10 minutes was so immersive that audiences didn’t notice the film’s lack of critical depth. The industry’s reliance on this model is evident in films like *MJ: The Musical* ($319m over five years) and *Elvis* ($287m), which prioritize spectacle over realism. The shift from critical biopics to sanitized fan service reflects deeper industry changes. Streaming has made traditional biopics obsolete, while social media has intensified public fascination with celebrities. Producers now seek pre-sold IP—like music biopics—where audiences already know the subject. The trend is evident in *Barbie*, *Michael*, and *Elvis*, all of which blend nostalgia with commercial appeal. Even Oscar-winning biopics like *Ray Charles* and *Walk the Line* now face competition from authorized, fan-friendly versions. The future of biopics may lie in controlled narratives where artists’ estates dictate the story, as seen in *A Complete Unknown* (Dylan) and *Prince* (Ezra Edelman’s canceled series). For now, the biopic remains a lucrative but increasingly formulaic genre, where audiences are willing to overlook inaccuracies for the promise of entertainment.