2019. Mexican filmmaker Alfonso Cuarón takes the stage at the Dolby Theatre for the Best Cinematography statuette — the first director in Academy history to shoot his own film and win an Oscar for it. Black-and-white "Roma," about a housekeeper in 1970s Mexico City, took home three golden men out of ten nominations. But while Hollywood applauded, American audiences wondered: where, exactly, can we see this masterpiece? The country had about 40,000 screens, "Roma" landed on 125. The rest refused to show the Netflix film — and turned Cuarón's triumph into the most expensive PR experiment of the 21st century.
Cuarón shot "Roma" on an Arri Alexa 65 — a digital beast with a 65mm sensor and 6K resolution that weighs about 10 kilograms without optics. Usually such equipment is entrusted to a director of photography: he sets up the lighting, controls exposure, answers for the visual concept. Cuarón rejected the middleman. He framed shots himself, chose lenses himself, hauled the camera around Mexico City locations himself. The Academy awarded him for cinematography — for the first time in the 91-year history of the prize, a director received an Oscar for his own camera work.
Formally, it's a technical precedent. In reality — a revolution against Hollywood's division of labor, where one person conceives, a second shoots, a third edits. Cuarón proved that digital cameras blurred the boundaries: if you control every parameter through a monitor, why hire someone who'll be looking at the same screen? The industry swallowed it — the Academy handed over the statuette. But the real war didn't start over the camera.
The traditional economics of theatrical distribution rests on the theatrical window — an exclusivity window when the film plays only in theaters. The standard: 90 days after premiere, the picture is unavailable on streaming, DVD, VOD. Theaters make money on tickets, studios — on the first weeks of hype. Then the film moves to "home" platforms, where money is split differently. This scheme worked for half a century — until Netflix decided the rules weren't written for them.
"Roma" dropped December 14, 2018 on the platform and November 21, 2018 in limited release. Formally, Netflix observed the Academy minimum — 7 days in Los Angeles theaters for Oscar qualification. But major chains demanded the 90-day window. The streaming giant refused. AMC Theatres (the largest US chain, about 8,000 screens), Regal Cinemas (second place, 7,000+ screens), Cinemark (third, 4,400 screens), and Pacific Theatres declared a boycott. Negotiations went on for months — Netflix offered 30-45 days, the chains held at 90. No compromise happened.
Result: a film with ten nominations for the biggest prize of the year played in ~100 independent arthouse venues. Total 1,250 show-weeks over 15 weeks of release. For comparison: Oscar-winning "Parasite" by Bong Joon-ho opened on 3,060 screens and collected $53.4 million in the US. "Roma" earned $4 million — according to analyst Tom Brueggemann from IndieWire, without the boycott and simultaneous streaming, the figure could have been $20+ million. Netflix spent $25-30 million on the Oscar campaign (billboards across Los Angeles, Academy screenings, PR blitzes) to prove: streaming cinema is legitimate. And achieved a historic victory that almost no one saw on the big screen.
Theater chains weren't bluffing. Their business model is built on the first two weeks after premiere being the golden window, when the studio takes 60-70% of receipts, the rest goes to theaters. From the third week, the studio's share drops, theaters start earning. But if the viewer knows the film will be on their couch in three days — why buy a $15 ticket? AMC and Regal feared not "Roma" specifically, but the precedent. If you give in to Netflix, tomorrow Disney, Warner, and Universal will demand the same. The window will collapse to zero, theatrical will die.
Netflix was playing a different game. The company makes money on subscriptions, not tickets. Every new film is content retaining existing subscribers and attracting new ones. "Oscars" for Netflix aren't about box office, they're about status. For years the platform was branded as "couch TV," unworthy of serious cinema. Three statuettes for "Roma" (directing, cinematography, best foreign language film) and a nomination for Best Picture (the first for a streaming service) were supposed to close that question forever.
Numbers confirm the strategy. According to research firm Ampere Analysis, in the first three weeks after the "Oscars," the number of search queries for "Roma Netflix" grew by 540%, and mentions of the platform in media — by 200%. How much this converted into new subscriptions — Netflix doesn't disclose, but indirect data from JustWatch (streaming analytics) shows a 30-40% growth in interest in Spanish-language content on the platform in February-March 2019. The theatrical flop turned into a PR victory impossible to count in box office receipts.
But there's a catch. Netflix spent at least $40-45 million on production ($15 million budget + $25-30 million Oscar campaign). "Roma" collected $4 million theatrically — losses were compensated by subscriptions, but there's no exact figure. For a traditional studio, this is catastrophe. For a streaming giant — an investment in reputation that pays off not in tickets, but in audience loyalty.
While major chains held the line, about a hundred independent theaters agreed to show "Roma." Among them: Alamo Drafthouse (a chain of arthouse theaters with bars), Landmark Theatres (specializes in indie and foreign cinema), dozens of local venues in New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco. Their logic differed from AMC: independent theaters don't live on blockbusters, but on unique content. An Oscar-winning film that won't play in the multiplex — that's exactly their audience.
Netflix offered them a deal: 50/50 on receipts (instead of the standard 60/40 in the studio's favor), plus marketing support — posters, prints, PR. For arthouse, this is profitable: less risk, more guarantees. But audience size is limited. Landmark Theatres operates about 200 screens nationwide — a drop in the ocean of 40,000. Even if all independent venues in the US had shown "Roma," they wouldn't have reached 1,000 screens. Major chains held 90% of the market, and their boycott turned a potential hit into a niche event.
The paradox: it was precisely arthouse theaters that saved "Roma" from complete failure. Without them, the film would have remained a purely streaming release, meaning — it wouldn't have passed Oscar qualification (Academy rules required 7 days in Los Angeles theaters). Netflix got its statuettes only thanks to those who broke the industry's unspoken solidarity.
For context: "Amour" by Michael Haneke (2013 winner) collected $6.7 million in the US (adjusted for inflation about $7.6 million). "Life Is Beautiful" by Roberto Benigni (1999) — $57.6 million. "Parasite" by Bong Joon-ho (2020) — $53.4 million. Even "Cold War" by Paweł Pawlikowski and "Shoplifters" by Hirokazu Kore-eda, "Roma's" competitors in the 2019 category, earned $4.35 million and $3.2 million respectively — despite releasing without Netflix support and without ten Oscar nominations.
"Roma" with its $4 million box office became the most commercially unsuccessful Best Foreign Language Film winner of the 21st century. This isn't the film's failure — it's a distribution failure. The film received phenomenal critical reviews (96% on Rotten Tomatoes, average rating 9.1/10), made year-end top lists of nearly all major publications, but there was simply nowhere to go see it.
Analysts debate how much Netflix lost or gained. Tom Brueggemann from IndieWire considers the lost opportunity at least $16 million (the difference between the $20 million projection and $4 million reality). But this logic works for studios that make money on theatrical. Netflix makes money on subscriptions, and for the company it was more important to prove to the Academy and the industry that streaming isn't "TV," but full-fledged cinema. Three statuettes cost $40-45 million — cheap for a brand fighting for legitimacy.
Before 2019, the Academy's theatrical release requirements were simple: 7 consecutive days in commercial theaters in Los Angeles County, minimum three screenings daily, one after 6 PM. Paid admission required. That was enough to qualify for an Oscar. Netflix formally followed the rules — "Roma" ran in Los Angeles from November 21, 2018, three weeks before dropping on the platform December 14, 2018.
But the major chains' boycott exposed the problem: Academy rules are written for a world where cinema = theaters. In 2019, that world was cracking at the seams. Studios increasingly experimented with simultaneous releases (day-and-date releases), independent films went to VOD two weeks after premiere, and the 2020 pandemic finally destroyed the old model. But in 2019 the industry still resisted — and "Roma" became the battlefield.
Debates inside the Academy started even before the Oscars. Director Steven Spielberg publicly stated that streaming films should compete for Emmy (television award), not the Oscar. Several Academy members supported him, but the majority voted against changing the rules. No compromise was found — Netflix got its statuettes, but the war continued.
By 2021, the Academy introduced new requirements: minimum 10 days in theaters in the six largest US cities (New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, San Francisco, Atlanta, Dallas). But the theatrical window never became mandatory — streaming platforms can release films online the very next day after premiere. The rules chase reality but always stay one step behind.
Netflix won the battle for prestige but didn't change the system. The theatrical window shortened — in 2023 the average theater exclusivity period fell to 45 days (according to the National Association of Theatre Owners), but didn't disappear completely. Major studios negotiated hybrid models with theaters: blockbusters get the full 90 days, arthouse and indie — 30-45, streaming releases — the minimum for Oscars.
"Roma" didn't become the precedent that buried theatrical. But it showed that the future of cinema isn't one business model, but several parallel ones. For some viewers, cinema = going to the theater Friday night. For others — couch, subscription, pause whenever you want. The industry tries to serve both audiences but hasn't yet learned to do it without losses.
Cuarón got his Oscar and a place in history. Netflix proved that streaming can compete for top prizes. Theaters survived through boycott and preserved the exclusivity window, albeit shortened. Everyone got something — except those millions of viewers who wanted to see a black-and-white drama about a housekeeper on the big screen but couldn't find tickets. The war ended in a draw, and the losses were borne by the audience no one asked.