Being a tour guide at Paramount was incredible — in part because I got paid to drive golf carts, but also because every day I got to talk about film. There were two things that always made me especially proud of my industry — the set of events that led to Paramount’s founding and the completely unhinged years when Robert Evans ran the show. Those years of inventiveness, risk-taking, and a cooperative effort to get the studio going or to revive it made me admire the peers who came before me.
Of course, those two moments in time were in stark contrast to my experience in film where, as a new actress with no real film connections, I was at the bottom of the heap. Still, in 2018, when TV and streaming were booming, everyone told you that they needed creatives more than ever, that the demand would never ease. You just had to bide your time.
But then COVID hit. Since then, things have been different.
Largely speaking, risks are avoided. People want to ensure safe returns on investments. So they invest more in films they think will be sure bets, like reboots or franchises.
Largely speaking, risks are avoided. People want to ensure safe returns on investments. So they invest more in films they think will be sure bets, like reboots or franchises. And they bolster their success by hiring known writers, big directors, and famous actors. The budgets balloon accordingly to accommodate these employees. Which means the movies have to make massive amounts of money. So fewer movies get made. So people want to be paid more because there’s less work. And if the budgets are higher and thus risk losing more money, people want the content to be even more predictably successful to earn back their money, so they reuse intellectual property and hire more beloved creators. And on and on and on.
That’s why I think nepo babies are making a killing right now and every other movie feels like a sequel or reboot.
It’s an ever-tightening vicious cycle from which the main result is less opportunity for new creatives. That’s not to say that there aren’t breakthroughs. There are, but instead of inspiring studios to take creative risks, they’re eyed warily before being copied in a watered-down way.
But for the first time since I’ve been working professionally, there’s been a major shift in the industry — the arrival of a new medium called vertical microdrama.
If you’ve never heard of them, vertical dramas are TV shows made exclusively for phones and viewed on dedicated apps. The episodes are short, around 90 seconds, and each series is comprised of roughly 70 episodes. Invented in China, they got a big break during COVID, and they’ve now reached global scale. On February 23, Deadline reported that ReelShort (the dominant app in this space) outpaced Netflix for time viewers spent on the platform. To frame vertical growth another way, in 2024 the entire world (excluding China) generated $1.2B of revenue from microdramas. In 2025, the US alone generated $1.3B.
Now, I’m no number-cruncher. And while I appreciate what these facts convey, the reason I get so animated talking about verticals is that they feel like the opportunity young people have been waiting for — an even playing field where hard work and creative effort get you play time.
This is a space where young people can get in at higher levels, learn, make stuff, rub shoulders with experienced professionals, and have an impact. Verticals, being a newer world, are still finding their way. Everyone is trying to figure out how to improve what works and expand the list of what’s been done. That means it’s not a risk averse industry. People are willing to try new genres and the low costs of production (around $200k) spurs this on.
If you’ve never heard of them, vertical dramas are TV shows made exclusively for phones and viewed on dedicated apps. The episodes are short, around 90 seconds, and each series is comprised of roughly 70 episodes.
It’s not a perfect world — the content can be problematic and the quality isn’t always inspiring.
But these are things that can change — things people can and want to change. And the more inaccessible traditional film feels, the more talent will flock to verticals, creating a talent drift that will only bolster and accelerate the improvement of verticals, creating more serious competition for films. Studios are starting to take note — some studio companies are investors in a variety of apps, testing the waters before they leap in fully.
For me, verticals are exciting because the smaller, less established world means I can add value — and people are willing to give you a chance to do that. Verticals feels like a land of opportunity, like stumbling into an oasis after wandering through the Hollywood desert. Let me be clear — I am not denouncing Hollywood, nor am I saying it’s impossible to make a living there. I have friends who have carved great careers in legacy media and who are quite happy.
Microdramas offer an alternative route where creatives can prove themselves through the actual work they want to do, instead of tangentially trying to move towards it. Maybe it’s not the work they want to do forever, but this wilderness means they can have a hand in shaping it and be active participants in the industry they want to work in.
Verticals, then, with the way they are evolving quickly, drawing attention, and bringing in talent give me hope that, just like the 1910s and the 1970s brought about massive artistic shifts, we’re on the cusp of another one — a welcome one for every young creative.
