Netflix Just Bought Warner: Here Are the Movie Franchises They Now Own

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Ignacio Weil

Entertainment - December 12th 2025, 19:00 GMT+1

Lord of the rings return of the king cropped processed by imagy 1 — Lord of the Rings

Middle-earth landing under Netflix’s umbrella feels like watching a centuries-old tapestry get moved into a modern gallery—everyone’s hoping it survives the relocation without losing the smell of old forests and battle-worn leather. Fans know the trilogy’s strength has always come from the slow burn: long walks, quiet dread, stubborn hope. That careful rhythm doesn’t naturally pair with binge-era pacing, and that’s where the unease creeps in. The thought of corporate tidying hovering over a world built on imperfection makes some viewers twitch. Yet the idea of new stories, if handled with a light hand, has its pull. People want to believe these characters can endure any storm, even a streaming giant’s grip. | © New Line Cinema

Cropped Game of Thrones 2011 — Game of Thrones

The moment news dropped, the fandom reacted the way Westeros residents respond to unexpected ravens: suspicion first, questions later. The series already carries a history of creative highs, sharp declines, and wounds that still spark debates in dimly lit bars. Moving it to Netflix adds another unpredictable chapter to a saga that never lacked for upheaval. Trust becomes a currency here, and it’s running short. Everyone remembers what happens when power shifts too quickly in this universe—nothing good, and certainly nothing peaceful. Whether the new rulers can resist sanding down its rough edges is the real test ahead. | © HBO

Cropped The Matrix — The Matrix

This franchise has always lived in the tension between control and rebellion, so landing inside one of the world’s most dominant platforms is a twist no oracle predicted. The movies thrive on dissonance, on visual and philosophical defiance, on the sense that someone somewhere is tampering with unseen systems. Fans worry that corporate fingerprints might show up where they don’t belong. There’s a certain vulnerability to a story about resisting manipulation being absorbed by a media titan. Still, curiosity lingers—what new doors could open if handled by people who understand its pulse? The answer depends on how well Netflix avoids becoming the villain of its own acquisition. | © Warner Bros.

Cropped justice league — DC Extended Universe

No franchise has been tossed between creative philosophies quite like this one, and now it has a fresh banner hanging over yet another reboot cycle. Characters who should feel unshakeable have spent a decade living through rearranged slates, vanishing directors, tonal whiplash, and enough restarts to make continuity feel optional. This new ownership doesn’t exactly soothe that fatigue. Fans want stability—something clean, coherent, willing to commit. Instead, they’re bracing themselves for yet another wave of promises about bold futures. Hope remains, though cautiously, because the raw potential of these heroes is impossible to ignore even after so many resets. | © Warner Bros.

Cropped Harry Potter — Harry Potter

The wizarding world has survived controversies, expansions, and reinterpretations, but this move introduces a different kind of uncertainty—one rooted not in lore, but in corporate instincts. Longtime fans know the atmosphere of Hogwarts comes from details that don’t rush: floating dust motes in candlelight, awkward silences, the quiet cruelty of adolescence. That kind of texture doesn’t always thrive under the pressure of relentless output. People fear that subtlety might be replaced by something louder, cleaner, more market-tested. And because the franchise carries global emotional weight, every decision will echo loudly. The magic isn’t gone, but it’s definitely glancing over its shoulder. | © Warner Bros.

Cropped Mad Max Furiosa — Mad Max

Every time this series changes hands, fans brace themselves as if they’re the ones strapped to the front of a war rig. The chaotic poetry of its deserts depends on a balance of grit, ferocity, and strangely tender desperation—elements that don’t always survive when corporate decision-makers start polishing the edges. There’s a lingering fear that a world built on rust and gasoline could lose its bite if pushed into cleaner, safer terrain. Still, the mythology is too raw to vanish quietly, and its characters carry an intensity that resists sterilization. The tension now rests in whether Netflix understands that this universe breathes best when it’s allowed to stay messy. | © Warner Bros.

Cropped Dune — Dune

The spice-filled politics of Arrakis have always demanded patience, and that requirement alone causes a flicker of anxiety when imagining its future under a company obsessed with rapid engagement metrics. This is a story built on slow dread, heavy silences, and desert horizons that stretch into philosophical territory—not exactly the kind of material that thrives when squeezed for immediate payoff. Fans worry about shortcuts creeping in where they don’t belong. Yet the richness of its world refuses to be anything but immense, and that gives people hope that even the most eager executives won’t dare flatten it. The desert has swallowed bigger threats, after all. | © Warner Bros.

Cropped It — It

Horror fans reacted with a mixture of curiosity and side-eye, knowing full well that this story’s terror depends on emotional grime—not just a killer clown popping up every fifteen minutes. The small-town rot, the lingering trauma, the sticky mix of nostalgia and dread are what give the tale its claws. Bringing it into a massive streaming empire raises concerns about tonal sanding, budget-friendly shortcuts, and a possible overexposure of Pennywise that drains him of his menace. Still, there’s enough mythology beneath the surface to keep the door open for fresh interpretations. Whether Netflix can resist turning fear into formula is the real gamble. | © Warner Bros.

Cropped The Wizard of Oz — The Wizard of Oz

A property this iconic carries the weight of countless childhood memories, and that alone makes fans skittish about any corporate reshuffling. The charm of its world relies heavily on whimsy that doesn’t feel manufactured—bright, yes, but never sterile. Shifting ownership raises questions about how much modern sheen might be layered over something cherished precisely because it feels out of time. Audiences worry about the temptation to over-explain, over-expand, or over-digitize what worked through simplicity. And because the story sits so deeply in cultural DNA, every creative shift will be scrutinized like a sacred artifact. | © Warner Bros.

Cropped Blade Runner — Blade Runner

The mood of this world has always felt like it was held together by rain, neon, and a kind of quiet despair that doesn’t translate well when run through an efficiency checklist. Fans worry that shifting it into Netflix’s hands could nudge the story toward cleaner answers where ambiguity once thrived. The tension comes from not knowing whether the studio will respect the universe’s slow, aching rhythm or trim it down for easier consumption. Nothing here works without atmosphere, without the sense that everything is two steps away from collapsing. And that’s why the transition feels so precarious. This universe doesn’t just tell a story—it broods, and people want that mood left untouched. | © Warner Bros.

The Day the Earth Blew Up A Looney Tunes Movie cropped processed by imagy — Looney Tunes

The idea of these characters moving under Netflix’s umbrella instantly stirs a mix of nostalgia and apprehension, mostly because their personality has always thrived on a kind of unapologetic chaos that doesn’t mesh naturally with corporate tidiness. Their humor is built on timing, mischief, and a willingness to be downright unruly—qualities that viewers fear could get softened in pursuit of broader appeal. There’s also the question of pacing, since these shorts worked best when they weren’t pressured to fit into a modern “content rhythm.” Even so, the history is too strong to ignore, and fans hold onto the hope that whatever comes next preserves the bite beneath the slapstick. These characters have outlasted trends for decades; they shouldn’t have to compromise now. | © Warner Bros.

Cropped The Conjuring — The Conjuring

This series has always been at its strongest when it leans into atmosphere rather than spectacle, and that’s why the news of its new home triggered so much unease among horror fans. The tension comes from quiet hallways, barely perceptible whispers, and the dread that builds between moments—not the kind of thing that thrives under creative pressure to “go bigger” every time. People worry that the franchise’s grounded approach might be swapped for something more polished or bombastic. At the same time, the world of paranormal investigations has enough depth to keep expanding without losing its identity, if handled carefully. What remains uncertain is whether the decision-makers understand that restraint is part of the formula. Without it, the scares lose their teeth. | © New Line Cinema

Cropped Godzilla vs Kong — Monsterverse (Godzilla & King Kong)

Any shift in ownership immediately raises eyebrows here, since the franchise walks a fine line between giant-monster spectacle and oddly heartfelt storytelling. These creatures don’t just stomp cities for the fun of it—they represent entire emotional and thematic frameworks that audiences have grown attached to. The worry now is whether the balance might tilt too far toward spectacle for spectacle’s sake. At the same time, there’s a strange comfort in knowing these icons have weathered reinventions across decades and still emerge towering over everything. What fans hope is that the next era doesn’t flatten their personalities into generic action beats. These monsters deserve more than noise—they need scale with meaning behind it. | © Warner Bros.

Cropped the exorcist 1973 — The Exorcist

Reactions to this acquisition landed somewhere between fascination and dread, which feels fitting given the subject matter. The original film carved out its status by refusing to rush, letting terror crawl under the viewer’s skin rather than jumping out with cheap tricks. That style can be difficult to preserve in environments driven by metrics and constant rollout schedules. Fans fear that too many creative hands could dilute the intensity that made the story unforgettable. Yet the mythology surrounding possession, faith, and psychological unraveling still carries enormous potential when treated with patience. The challenge now lies in honoring the unsettling quiet that gives the horror its weight. Without that, the soul of the franchise slips away. | © Warner Bros.

Cropped The Lego Movie — The Lego Movies

This series built its reputation on sharp humor, emotional sincerity, and a kind of manic creativity that felt handcrafted rather than committee-driven. That’s why the transition inspired equal parts curiosity and skepticism: audiences wonder whether that spark can survive in a more standardized ecosystem. The charm comes from playful self-awareness, unexpected jokes, and a refusal to take anything too seriously—all qualities that don’t always thrive under heavy oversight. Still, the universe has enough elasticity to reinvent itself without losing its heart, if given room to breathe. Fans just hope that imagination isn’t replaced by formula. The magic only works when the bricks feel like they’re snapping together freely. | © Warner Bros.

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Let’s be honest—this buyout feels less like a bold new chapter for streaming and more like watching your favorite neighborhood stores get swallowed by one mega-mall you never asked for. Netflix scooping up HBO isn’t exciting; it’s a reminder that the entertainment landscape keeps shrinking into the same pair of hands. And that uneasy feeling you have? You’re not alone.

Fans aren’t exactly celebrating the idea of Netflix taking over beloved Warner Bros. film franchises. There’s a real fear that the subtlety, personality, and edge these movies carried will get flattened into the same glossy algorithm-bait sheen. People wanted variety, not a single platform deciding what “quality” looks like—and this move feels like one more step toward a future nobody signed up for.