Once upon a time, America won the world’s imagination by telling stories that were human, bold, and universal. Now, President Trump’s talk about a 100% tariff on foreign-made movies risks replacing creativity with protectionism, and cultural influence with retreat. Trump’s Truth Social post claims the US film industry is “dying a very fast death” due to foreign incentives and labels international films a “national security threat.” However, the real danger here is economic confusion and cultural stagnation.
First, consider the basic practicalities. Defining a “foreign” movie is far more complex than it appears. When the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences classifies a film’s country of origin for eligibility purposes, it relies on legal designations tied to production registration. English-language movies shot and financed abroad don’t even qualify as “foreign” for Oscar consideration. The legal “nationality” of a movie does not reflect the economic reality. The location of creative work, capital investment, or talent recruitment often spans multiple countries. A film might be legally labeled American, for instance, while most of its production budget, crew, or creative process comes from Canada or Eastern Europe.
Suppose a Mission: Impossible movie includes sequences filmed in Rio de Janeiro or Tangier. Does this make the production foreign? Would we classify movies based on minutes filmed abroad, digital bytes edited overseas, or the nationality of the catering crew? Any attempt to define economic “foreignness” precisely would invite endless bureaucratic confusion and create easy loopholes.
There’s also a legal question. Under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act, even in a national emergency, the president is explicitly barred from using that authority to regulate or prohibit the import or export of “informational materials” such as films, publications, and artworks. This exemption was created to protect free expression and the global flow of ideas, even amid geopolitical tensions. Attempting to impose tariffs on foreign-made movies could run afoul of that exemption. Films are not just entertainment. They are information, and the law treats them as such.
Beyond that statutory barrier, the very mechanics of modern distribution make a movie tariff close to infeasible. What does it even mean to “tariff” a digital stream? Platforms like Netflix, Hulu, and HBO do not clear customs or operate like port authorities. They gate content through licensing contracts, geo-blocking titles by region rather than by inspection at ports. Tariffs apply to tangible goods crossing borders. Streamed films remain intangible services, governed by royalty taxes, not by customs duties. To “tariff” a digital stream, you’d need customs officers inspecting data or monitoring IP packets at ISPs—a level of enforcement so complex that it would collapse under its own contradictions.
Now, consider the deeper economic principle. Cultural protectionism misreads how creative industries actually thrive. Historically, protectionist quotas and tariffs have produced inferior cultural outcomes. The UK’s 1927 quota laws are a notable example. The legislation was intended to boost domestic filmmaking, but led mostly to cheaply made films designed to meet quotas rather than to satisfy audiences. These laws made British cinema worse, not better. France’s protectionism, with its mandates for domestic content, has faced criticism for inefficiency and failure to meet audience demand. Canada’s minimum-quota requirements built a local industry at the expense of quality, with formulaic shows produced more to satisfy regulators than viewers.
China’s cultural protectionism offers another cautionary tale. Through strict import and screen quotas, the Chinese government has tried to limit foreign influence and promote domestic filmmaking. But these restrictions have had a paradoxical effect: by allowing only a handful of Hollywood blockbusters into the market each year, the system has unintentionally turned those few films into massive cultural events. Rather than diminishing US influence, the quotas concentrate it. Meanwhile, domestic studios often play it safe to meet state expectations, prioritizing formulaic, commercially viable productions over bold or original storytelling. The result is a local industry that struggles to compete on quality, even at home. Let’s not follow China’s script.
Great cinema is born from talent, innovation, and competition. Not from barriers and mandates. Hollywood became a global powerhouse by embracing openness. We filmed where it made sense. We brought in foreign actors and directors. We won over global audiences. American films triumphed not because other films were blocked, but because they outperformed the rest. That’s how Hollywood became Hollywood. It succeeded by captivating the world, not shutting it out. Fewer choices result in lower standards, less creativity, and weaker storytelling.
Because of Hollywood’s success, the US became the world’s largest exporter of movies. American movies account for $22.6 billion annually in exports. If other countries respond with retaliatory tariffs, the blow will fall on American filmmakers, distributors, and the cultural influence of Hollywood. China already restricted US film imports in April, in response to President Trump’s tariffs. Retaliation would shrink global markets for US films and undercut a key sector of the American economy and soft power. What begins as an effort to defend the industry would end up dismantling it.
If the real goal is to boost domestic film production, there are far better ways. Reduce zoning complications. Streamline permits. Cut red tape in general. Cities like Los Angeles and New York could reclaim their edge by making it less of a logistical nightmare. Just watch actors Adam Scott and Rob Lowe talk about how filming in Los Angeles has become prohibitively difficult. They hint at how union rules, taxes, and city regulations make it so costly to film in California. Lowe jokes that it’s “cheaper to bring 100 Americans to Ireland than walk across the lot at Fox.” Solving these domestic issues would do far more to support the industry than tariffs ever could.
America’s cultural influence did not grow behind tariff walls. It grew because we told better stories. If we want to remain the world’s movie capital, we need to remember how America got here: openness, competition, and creativity. Not tariffs.
