The Danger of Digital Nostalgia: Why Lamenting Change Blinds Us to Progress

"There is no longer such a thing as cinema. It's now a content mosaic."

Reading this line in Will Tavlin’s n+1 magazine's recent analysis of Netflix set something off in me. The piece was a meticulous autopsy of how streaming has transformed Hollywood, turning art into an algorithm-driven assembly line. Movies, it argued, are now ephemeral—"floating away as quickly as they appeared."

The article was masterfully researched and written. But as I read it, I felt a growing frustration I couldn't quite articulate. After finishing it, I grabbed my phone and fired off a raw, half-awake unfiltered text to a friend:

"98 percent of people will lament change while 2 percent will find opportunity in disruption. Aren't artists supposed to be disrupters? Instead of pining for older, similarly corrupt systems, shouldn't we be leading this charge? Distribution is more democratized than it has ever been. Production is becoming cheaper and faster. Doesn't this favor those who can marry artistic vision with technological prowess?"

That text captured something raw I was wrestling with. The article's perspective felt incomplete, focused solely on loss while missing the larger transformation happening in media and entertainment. While dissecting Netflix's impact, it ignored how platforms like YouTube have grown far larger, reshaping how an entire generation consumes content. Even more fundamentally, it made me question why we so readily accept narratives of decline, why we idealize certain eras while demonizing the present.

This newsletter is my exploration of my own instinct and feeling of discomfort after reading the article. It’s about rejecting the temptation to retreat into nostalgia or fear. It’s about recognizing that every disruptive moment has immense downsides but also immense opportunity. Our industry has always been defined by evolution, and the present moment is no different. The question isn’t whether change is coming—it’s what we’ll do with it.

The Comfort of Nostalgia

The n+1 article, like so many critiques of streaming and AI, falls into a common trap - romanticizing a particular era as cinema's 'golden age.' For some, it's the maverick spirit of 1970s New Hollywood. For others, the glamour and efficiency of the studio system's heyday in the 1940s and '50s. The article fixates on the independent film boom of the 1990s, particularly Miramax's reign - a choice that inadvertently reveals the danger of such nostalgia. After all, this 'golden age' was presided over by Miramax’s Co-Founder Harvey Weinstein, whose decades-long abuse was enabled by the very power structures being mourned. Each generation tends to idealize the era when they first fell in love with movies, overlooking its flaws and limitations. Today's teenagers might well look back on this current moment - with its democratized creation tools and direct audience connection - as their golden age.

Yet, we cling to these memories as though they were universally golden. Why? Because the alternative—the messy, fragmented world we live in now—feels harder to navigate. Streaming has upended the old order, shattering the certainty of theatrical release schedules and box-office weekends. Platforms like YouTube and TikTok have obliterated the centralized attention economy, giving anyone with a camera and a Wi-Fi connection a shot at finding an audience. It’s chaotic, yes, but it’s also freeing.

This sense of freedom is something Gavin Purcell and Kevin Pereira, hosts of the incredible AI for Humans podcast have discussed in depth. Kevin notes that “what we’re seeing now isn’t the death of creativity—it’s the democratization of it.” The tools available today, from AI-generated visuals to direct-to-consumer platforms, mean that anyone with a story to tell has a shot at telling it. “It’s not about lamenting the loss of gatekeepers,” Gavin added. “It’s about realizing that the gates don’t exist anymore.”

So, as much as nostalgia for the past might feel comforting, it also blinds us to what’s possible in the present. The systems of the past weren’t golden for everyone, and the tools of today have the potential to expand who gets to participate in shaping culture.

The Real Threat and Emerging Opportunities

When discussing the challenges facing creative industries, it’s tempting to focus on clear villains: Netflix’s algorithms eroding art, AI tools threatening human creativity, or social media cheapening storytelling. These arguments are appealing—they provide a narrative that assigns blame for the instability we feel. But they risk oversimplifying a much more complex landscape.

The real threat isn’t Netflix. It isn’t AI. It isn’t TikTok. The real threat is inertia—the belief that if we resist long enough, things will return to a mythical status quo. History suggests otherwise. When photography emerged in the 19th century, some portrait painters embraced the new medium, adapting their craft or using the camera as a complementary tool. Others clung to old methods, hoping to preserve their relevance by rejecting change. Those who refused to evolve faded away.

Today, we face a similar moment of reckoning. AI tools like generative visual platforms and machine learning models aren’t the end of creativity—they’re catalysts for new possibilities. For many, this is unsettling. These tools challenge our assumptions about what creativity looks like, how it’s executed, and who gets to participate. But for others, they offer a way to expand the boundaries of storytelling and expression.

Coke

Consider Coca-Cola’s recent AI-driven holiday ad in the UK. While the ad was panned almost universally by critics, it tested through the roof with audiences, performing better than Coca-Cola ever expected. This contrast between industry commentary and audience reaction is telling. For Coca-Cola, the audience’s response validated their investment in AI storytelling and no doubt gave them confidence to continue exploring it. As Gavin Purcell noted, “Audiences care about the product—if it resonates, they don’t care how it was made.”

This isn’t just a technological milestone; it’s a cultural one. The tools of today, from AI-generated visuals to direct-to-consumer platforms, are transforming how stories connect with audiences. The success of Coca-Cola’s ad underscores a critical point: what matters most is how audiences engage with the final product, not the skepticism of insiders.

Laszlo

The story of László Gaál, a professional colorist, reinforces this transformation. Gaál once feared that AI would replace his craft entirely. As a colorist, his work requires a fine balance of technical precision and creative judgment—a skill set he assumed machines couldn’t replicate but also feared they might. However, instead of rejecting the tools outright, Gaál decided to experiment with them. What he found wasn’t a replacement for his skills but an extension of them.

Through AI tools, Gaál discovered new creative possibilities, from experimenting with complex lighting scenarios to simulating dynamic camera movements that were once out of reach. He described these tools not as shortcuts but as collaborators that demand human curation, decision-making, and taste. "AI doesn't diminish artistry—it enhances it," he wrote in a widely shared LinkedIn post. “The creative judgment still lies with us, but now we have tools that allow us to reach places we never could before.”

Gaál’s evolution is a testament to how embracing new tools doesn’t mean abandoning old skills. Instead, it opens the door to refining them, to seeing one’s craft in an entirely new light. His journey, from fear to advocacy, exemplifies the potential of AI to empower creators who are willing to adapt and experiment.

This isn’t just about efficiency or cost savings; it’s about accessibility and inclusion. For decades, the creative industries were defined by high barriers to entry—massive budgets, large crews, and tightly guarded distribution channels. Today, those barriers are eroding. Small teams and independent voices now have access to resources that once required the backing of major studios.

The future isn’t about choosing between preservation and innovation—it’s about balance. By integrating new tools thoughtfully and safeguarding the values that define great artistry, creators like László Gaál are helping shape the creative landscape of tomorrow. The question isn’t whether change is coming—it’s how we choose to engage with it.

Building What's Next

Across the industry I’ve heard countless senior leaders say "I'm just trying to hold on until retirement." It's a natural reaction to the overwhelming pace of change. But for those of us with years—or decades—of work ahead, retreat isn't an option. I was too young to take advantage of the internet's first wave, but this moment feels like a second chance—a rare opportunity to help shape the next evolution of our industry.

We're standing in the overlap of two paradigms: the one we know and the one that's emerging. Our experience—understanding great storytelling, building relationships, navigating power structures—isn't just baggage from the past. It's our foundation for navigating this moment. Silent films gave way to talkies. Black-and-white became Technicolor. Streaming disrupted theater releases. Each time, those who embraced the new tools redefined the creative possibilities of the medium.

The bad will happen—there will always be stories of misuse, job loss, and technology eroding rather than elevating. That threat is real and will likely happen as it has historically across technological disruption. But if we focus solely on the inevitability of bad outcomes, we risk missing the immense opportunity in front of us: to use the paradigm we know to shape what comes next. The same instincts that allowed us to create meaningful work before can guide us now. While the terrain has changed, the fundamental truths of great storytelling, compelling artistry, and authentic connection remain.

The window to shape this evolution won't last. If we don't act, someone else will. And if we fail to embed our values—integrity, creativity, humanity—into these new systems, those values risk being left behind. The breathless commentary will continue, but the upside—the chance to create, to lead, to shape—is ours to claim.

Let's build the good. Let's evolve. Let's lead.