As 2025 draws to a close, it has become clear that global cinema is in the midst of a significant shift. Ne Zha 2 emerged as the year’s highest-grossing film worldwide, emblematic of a broader trend of Chinese productions continuing to grow in ambition and influence. At the same time, the global box office was shaped less by Hollywood’s legacy franchises than by unexpected newcomers such as F1: The Movie and K-Pop Demon Hunters. In an exclusive interview with Beijing Review reporter Peng Jiawei, Simon Abrams, a New York-based film critic and longtime observer of global cinema, discusses the question of cultural centrality in film franchise building, the strengths and limitations of rising Chinese film franchises, and how the rapid expansion of the domestic film scene fuels a new sense of confidence. Edited excerpts of their conversations follow:
Beijing Review: In China, there seems to be a growing fatigue with Hollywood blockbuster franchises. From your perspective, what is happening on the U.S. front when it comes to popular film franchises?
Simon Abrams: I saw the most recent Mission: Impossible film, and compared with earlier entries in the franchise, it felt rather flat. It stuck to the same formula without adding anything new, and in the end, it just kind of sat there.
F1: The Movie is an interesting case because, unlike most Hollywood blockbusters these days, it isn’t a spinoff of something.
Yet in a sense, it is another kind of spinoff. It’s hard to imagine the filmmakers expected audiences to connect it to Top Gun: Maverick, yet the parallels are hard to miss: Both center on a middle-aged star going very fast—Tom Cruise in one, Brad Pitt in the other—and both are directed by Joseph Kosinski.
But the true overlap is conceptual: The two films share the same emphasis on spectacle—the idea that films must be seen in a theater to be fully experienced. It follows the same philosophy that Tom Cruise has repeatedly endorsed: Movies are meant to be seen big, live and in person.
Yet F1: The Movie never truly became an event. It made money, certainly, but after its theatrical run, people stopped talking about it almost immediately. The marketing team clearly tried to manufacture that sense of occasion, to make it seem like an event. They pushed it harder than most releases, likely because they had spent more on it.
Despite these efforts, there was no widespread social pressure to keep up with the film, no shared sense that seeing F1: The Movie on an IMAX screen was something you simply had to experience rather than staying at home. The film lacks that essential cultural centrality—the feeling that skipping it would mean missing out on a major collective moment.
I kept thinking about another film this year that did manage to become an event: the animated movie K-Pop Demon Hunters, which arrived in the U.S. with virtually no expectations yet went on to surprise everyone. After topping Netflix’s global charts with more than 33 million views in its first two weeks, the streamer quickly pushed it into cinemas with event-style screenings, complete with sing-along sessions that drew audiences of all kinds. Thanks to K-pop’s enormous popularity in the country, it became the number one film at the American box office during its first weekend.
Other films, however, are not so fortunate. Too often, studios and streaming platforms buy vast amounts of content and release it without a long-term plan. It is difficult to tell whether the companies releasing these movies in the U.S. truly understand what they are doing or what they are trying to achieve. In the process, they miss the chance to help viewers discover new things beyond what they already know. And that, to me, is the worrying part.
Given the way in which Hollywood itself often functions like a franchise ecosystem, with films drawing on each other for inspiration, do you see Chinese films taking cues from Hollywood? What, to you, feels distinctive about the way Chinese franchises handle continuity and change?
I’d say that, in the case of the Chinese blockbusters I’ve seen, especially franchise films, they’re largely inspired by themselves. Detective Chinatown is a prime example, as is The Wandering Earth. What felt so refreshing about the latter was that I couldn’t pinpoint any major Hollywood influence beyond some broad generic conventions; it really felt like its own thing. Even the sequel (2023) seemed more shaped by the first film (2019) than by anything from Hollywood.
On one hand, these franchises often treat the first movie as a kind of blueprint—not just for the narrative, but for the overall style. At the same time, what’s interesting is that this doesn’t lock them into strict uniformity. In many of the Chinese franchises I’ve seen, there’s actually more room for tonal shifts. Ne Zha 2 (2025), for instance, doesn’t really feel like Ne Zha (2019), aside from a few scenes that echo the original humor of the first movie; in most respects, it feels like a deliberate departure.
What I really appreciate is that you can sense an intention to maintain continuity, yet there’s an even stronger impulse to keep evolving. And I’m grateful for that, because, honestly, American franchises don’t always do that.
That said, I was actually a bit disappointed by another Chinese New Year title that came out alongside Ne Zha 2 in late January—one I’d really been looking forward to—Legends of the Condor Heroes: The Gallants.
This new adaptation of Louis Cha (Jin Yong)’s martial arts source novel is faithful to a fault. I know those books. I know the story. So I understood why the film felt so cluttered, and I could see what Tsui Hark, the director, was aiming for, given how sprawling and episodic Cha’s books tend to be.
But there’s also a level of classicism that only really works if you’ve read the original work. For those who have not read the novel, the film can feel a bit stiff, and the cinematic language is a little bit too traditional, almost to the point of distraction.
The same goes for the Creation of the Gods trilogy. I’m curious to see if the franchise will last, because even by the end of the second film (2025), it felt like they were struggling to hold up. It’s going to be interesting to see how it plays out.
There has been ongoing debate about how to make Chinese films more accessible to viewers abroad. From your perspective in the U.S., how much does accessibility really matter for Chinese movie franchises?
I think what we’re seeing more and more lately is that, especially with popular cinema coming from outside the U.S., accessibility is becoming less and less the issue.
For decades, it was often seen as the main reason why foreign comedies, for example, were considered “too regional” to be successful outside their home countries, or why many films that required familiarity with the subject, the stars or the cultural context were thought to have limited appeal. “Too regional” is a phrase I don’t like, but I’ve heard it countless times.
Meanwhile in China, 2025 has been a notable year—the year in which the Chinese box office has grown to rival or surpass the American one [during major release periods]. Here in America, a single box office hit is a major event—but in China, there can be several blockbusters of that scale in a single strong season.
The market is huge. And I think all of these Chinese blockbusters share the fact that they are not that much bothered by the question of accessibility—of whether those outside the already initiated audience will get it.
The success of Ne Zha 2, along with several other Chinese titles, proves this. Its overseas release wasn’t primarily about making money—they had already earned a substantial sum at the domestic box office. For me, the international release felt more like a victory lap. It reflects an approach that is increasingly less focused on trying to ingratiate and cater to a foreign audience.
In journalism, for the most part, writers assume their readers are unfamiliar with the subject they’re covering. That expectation helps maintain a good standard for reporting. The story should stand on its own.
It’s similar for movies. After a certain point, it’s not going to matter—films will find their audiences. The audience isn’t naïve. They’re not in a vacuum; they know and can relate. And even if they can’t relate to everything, they are not hung up on minor questions such as “Did I get everything? Did I understand everything?”
After all, the new audience is basically going to grow from the core out. It’s not going to be trying to pull from the outside in anymore. –The Daily Mail-Beijing Review news exchange item
