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A recurring theme courses through a host of 2025's popular films. It's an idea that goes back in time to the time of the Little Tramp. In James Gunn’s *Superman*, the antagonist is a envious, ruthless billionaire wielding his enormous resources to defame Earth's greatest hero while manipulating world events for his own profit. In *Jurassic World: Rebirth*, the antagonist is a wealthy pharmaceutical heir squandering tens of millions to cast the heroes into a dinosaur-packed danger zone to boost his wealth. In *Zootopia 2*, the villains are a clan of extremely affluent lynxes who appropriated a well-meaning mother's life-changing idea and pinned the blame on her for murder, purely for their financial benefit.

A Tradition of Film Elite Villainy

In the remake of *The Running Man*, Josh Brolin embodies a wealthy villain controlling a TV network that makes millions by preying upon and eliminating people enduring abject destitution, while using deepfakes and a sophisticated propaganda machine to depict them as selfish, shiftless, dangerous criminals. *Wicked: For Good* is less direct about economic inequality in such a blunt manner, but its villains enjoy conspicuous opulence while exploiting and abusing Oz's poorest citizens, pushing them into unemployment and into cages or slavery. The Chinese animated hit *Ne Zha 2*, the year's number one film, pits the resourceful inhabitants of a impoverished farm town against condescending upper classes who live in opulent gleaming towers floating overhead. Even, the zany farcical update *The Naked Gun* revolves around a billionaire's scheme to bring about planetary doom — for financial gain, naturally.

There is little inherently notable in a run of movies assuming as fact that the wealthy have excessive influence, no morals or empathy, and a endless, demanding hunger for more wealth. "Elites are the bad guys and plucky heroes are heroes" as a concept dates back to the dawn of cinema, with early comedies setting his perpetually impoverished iconic vagrant against fat cats, authority figures, and inept, drunken millionaires. From the Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland "Let’s put on a show" movies from that era to the 1980s dance movies that updated that very premise for the era of the greedy, harmful entrepreneurial bad guy, the entire history of cinema is replete with "eat the rich" stories, which take it for granted that affluence is incompatible with core morality, and celebrate the overthrowing, defeat, and sometimes destruction of elite figures.

The Release That Changes Nothing

Nevertheless, for some reason, we never actually consuming the elite. Every time elected officials react to a public shooting event by pointing fingers at popular entertainment, I sigh with frustration, because if people truly were that impressionable — if regular exposure to an idea via media was enough to make it seep the societal mindset — undoubtedly American society would not continue to worship billionaires. But the news demonstrates regularly that a frightening percentage of Americans subconsciously associate wealth with smartness and social worth, even after decades of cinema's biggest movies promoting the reverse.

Actually, it seems like the endless parade of anti-wealth storylines in American cinema has given us a safety outlet that gets in the way of real-world action. Given a steady diet of mostly triumphant tales where the everyman triumphs, while the billionaires are neutralized and shamed, everyone can finish the film satisfied about justice being served. These movies are like ethical parables, implying that society is just, and that resourceful individuals will identify any bad apples among the largely industrious, moral, worthy wealthy who succeeded on their own merit.

A Sharper Message in 2025

Even though 2025's movies are not novel in that regard, they indeed follow some contemporary patterns among eat-the-rich stories: They’re getting angrier, more incisive, more direct, and seemingly more violent. It is seldom sufficient nowadays to see rich people be taught a lesson about modesty, like in 1941's *Sullivan's Travels*, or forfeit their fortune to the people they exploited, like in 1983's *Trading Places*. In 2025, avaricious, malicious rich individuals were slaughtered by fantastical monsters (*Death of a Unicorn*) and consumed by a giant mutant dinosaur (*Jurassic World: Rebirth*). They were obliterated on a alien world (*Mickey 17*) and gunned down point blank on national television (*The Running Man*). They were murdered with a improvised weapon (*Companion*) and assaulted fatally by an up-and-coming rival (*Him*).

"Hardly any of 2025’s extremely affluent villains get the packed into a police car ending, perhaps because it’s become so obvious that rich people operate under a separate justice system, and are very likely to purchase their freedom."

The "behind bars" resolution fails to deliver anymore. Conversely, these villains are likely to die at the conclusion of their movies, often in particularly grotesque, ironic ways.

Key Exclusions

Some films diverge, certainly. The iconic villain in *Superman* is only humiliated, exposed, and sent to prison. Monstrous manipulator Julian Dillinger in *Tron: Ares* winds up confined to the digital realm, where he’s clearly being saved for possible sequels. Korda in Wes Anderson's *The Phoenician Scheme* forfeits all his money and is redeemed as a person. The antagonist family members in *Zootopia 2* are exposed as culprits, but they don’t meet|avoid