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An age-old theme runs through numerous 2025's genre movies. It's an idea that stretches far back to the days of the Little Tramp. In the new *Superman* film, the evil force is a greedy, heartless billionaire wielding his vast wealth to tarnish Earth's superhero icon while orchestrating world events for personal gain. In *Jurassic World: Rebirth*, the bad guy is a rich pharma-bro spending vast sums to trap the heroes into a dinosaur-packed death trap for personal amusement. In Disney's *Zootopia 2*, the antagonists are a clan of super-wealthy lynxes who pilfered a kindly mom’s life-changing idea and set her up for murder, solely for their financial benefit.

A Legacy of Film Class Warfare

In the remake of *The Running Man*, a wealthy media magnate portrays a wealthy villain controlling a TV network that makes millions by exploiting and murdering people living in abject destitution, while employing deepfakes and a well-honed media apparatus to depict them as avaricious, indolent, terrifying criminals. The musical *Wicked: For Good* doesn't highlight wealth disparity as overtly, but its evil characters live in clear extravagance while preying upon and oppressing Oz's poorest citizens, driving them into unemployment and toward imprisonment or servitude. *Ne Zha 2*, the year's top box-office hit, contrasts the resourceful people of a impoverished farm town against haughty aristocrats who live in opulent sky-high mansions in the sky. Remarkably, the lighthearted comedy reboot of *The Naked Gun* focuses on a billionaire's plot to cause planetary doom — for his own profit, needless to say.

There’s nothing particularly surprising in a run of movies presupposing that rich people have disproportionate control, are devoid of conscience, and a insatiable, privileged hunger for more wealth. "Rich people are villains and everyday folks are heroes" as a theme stretches back to the dawn of cinema, with Chaplin’s silent movies contrasting his perpetually impoverished iconic vagrant against fat cats, industrialists, and inept, drunken millionaires. Starting with the Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland "Let’s put on a show" classic musicals to the 1980s dance movies that updated that very premise for the era of the greedy, harmful Silicon Valley antagonist, the entire history of cinema is packed with "eat the rich" stories, which presume that riches is at odds with basic human values, and applaud the overthrowing, defeat, and sometimes demise of elite figures.

The Catharsis That Fails to Transform

Nevertheless, inexplicably, we consistently fail to taking down the wealthy. On each occasion lawmakers respond to a public shooting event by faulting graphic media, I roll my eyes, because if people actually were that easily influenced — if regular exposure to an idea via media was enough to make it seep the societal mindset — surely American society would not persistently idolize billionaires. Still the daily reports reveals constantly that a frightening percentage of Americans instinctively equate riches with smartness and importance, even after decades of the world's most beloved movies communicating the reverse.

In fact, it seems like the endless parade of anti-wealth storylines in American cinema has given us a safety outlet that impedes substantive reform. Offered a frequent serving of mostly triumphant fables where the everyman triumphs, while the billionaires are neutralized and shamed, everyone can leave the theater feeling good about good conquering evil. These movies are like ethical parables, suggesting that society is just, and that determined protagonists will identify any bad apples among the mostly industrious, moral, worthy wealthy who lifted themselves through sheer effort.

A Sharper Message in 2025

Even though 2025's movies aren’t new in that sense, they certainly adhere to some modern developments among anti-wealth stories: They’re getting more enraged, more incisive, more specific, and apparently more fatal. It’s rarely enough these days to see rich people learn a useful lesson about modesty, like in 1941's *Sullivan's Travels*, or forfeit their fortune to the people they oppressed, like in 1983's *Trading Places*. In 2025, avaricious, malicious rich individuals were slaughtered by mythological beasts (*Death of a Unicorn*) and devoured by a giant mutant dinosaur (*Jurassic World: Rebirth*). They were destroyed on a hostile planet (*Mickey 17*) and gunned down at close range on a broadcast (*The Running Man*). They were murdered with a corkscrew (*Companion*) and bludgeoned by an ambitious rival (*Him*).

"Very few of 2025’s ultra-rich villains get the packed into a police car conclusion, perhaps because it’s become so apparent that the wealthy operate under different standards, and are very likely to buy their way out."

The "behind bars" ending fails to deliver anymore. Conversely, these villains are apt to perish at the final act of their movies, often in notably grotesque, ironic ways.

Notable Exclusions

A few stories differ, undoubtedly. Superman's arch-nemesis in *Superman* is only humiliated, exposed, and sent to prison. Evil mastermind Julian Dillinger in *Tron: Ares* finds himself exiled to the computer world, teasing that he is being saved for possible sequels. Korda in Wes Anderson's *The Phoenician Scheme* loses all his money and is reformed as a person. The wealthy lynx dynasty members in *Zootopia 2* are exposed as thieves and liars, but they don’t meet|avoid