The executive delivered the third talk in the Platino Talks series, organized by EGEDA, and analyzed the shift from a volume-driven economy to a strategic decision-making economy in the audiovisual industry.
This week saw the third talk in the Platino Talks initiative, a series of specialized conversations on various topics related to film and audiovisual production, presented by EGEDA to create professional networking opportunities for producers, creators, and other audiovisual specialists from Latin America and the Iberian Peninsula.
On this occasion, the featured speaker was Pablo Iacoviello, an audiovisual executive with over 20 years of international experience, specializing in the intersection of content, platforms, distribution, and business expansion in the audiovisual industry.
At Amazon Prime Video, he served as Director of Content for Latin America, General Manager and Director of Prime Video for emerging markets in the region, as well as Director of Monetization of Local Originals on a global scale. He has worked at companies such as Amazon, Claro Video, DLA, Claxson, and Playboy, building a comprehensive understanding of the audiovisual business across acquisitions, strategy, monetization, distribution, and regional operations. In 2024, he founded IP4 Media, a company designed to connect content, distribution, technology, and business architecture, with a strategic approach that aims to make projects more viable, scalable, and attractive to platforms, corporations, and international partners.
Titled “The New Content Economy: From Volume to Science,” the conference analyzed the shift from a volume-driven economy to an economy of strategic decisions in the audiovisual industry.
Based on a reality check of the current market, Pablo Iacoviello argues that it is divided between large-scale, mass-market projects and niche content, while media initiatives are losing viability. He proposes designing projects “from the back to the front,” starting with the audience, the business model, and the distribution strategy. He also reflects on micro-dramas, AI, and curation as responses to a market that demands a different way of producing content.
THE END OF MEDIA
From a privileged vantage point, I witnessed the evolution of platforms in recent years, and I believe the industry is still grappling with this shift because we continue to approach the market with an outdated logic. We are witnessing the end of media. Today, we are not only observing a market adjustment, but the very space where we operated is beginning to disappear.
The Previous Model
For the past 10 years, we operated with a fairly clear concept: develop a good project, package it effectively, upload it to a platform, and there was a very good chance it would succeed. This model worked, not necessarily because it was efficient, but because of the sheer volume.
During the streaming wars, there were more platforms, and each one was buying a lot. “We’re going to have content for everyone. No matter the cost, we’re going to have a product for everyone,” they would say. And that worked for a while.
In reality, it was a learning phase. Platforms were buying in bulk to understand what works, what retains viewers, what travels, what truly moves the audience, and what impact each piece of content has.
The platforms learned and adjusted
Over time, they learned and adjusted, and that’s what we’ve felt for the past couple of years. Today, there are fewer players, and each one produces less. The volume didn’t just decrease; it doubled. Now, the most important thing is how the platforms make their decisions. They’ve learned what works, and today every decision puts much more pressure on executives. Every show has to attract an audience, retain it, and justify the investment. It’s no longer enough for a project, an idea, or a story to be good; they also have to be effective, and that’s considerably more difficult.
The platforms are taking fewer risks and playing it safe: they produce fewer shows, but bigger ones, relying on themes that have historically worked: relationships, desire, conflict, mystery, true crime, sex… nothing new. The difference is how it’s presented.
If we look at series like Off Campus, Hunting Wives, or 56 Days today, we find very commercial and mainstream elements, but packaged in a sophisticated way. They have a good cast, high production value, very clear concepts, and commercial themes.
Furthermore, they rely on strong IPs: well-known stories, renowned authors, and established talent. These can be classics like The House of the Spirits, One Hundred Years of Solitude, or Like Water for Chocolate. Or characters and events with a strong local cultural identity, such as Chespirito, Menem, Paco Stanley, or Moria Casán. They aren’t reinventing what works; they’re optimizing how to scale it.
WHEN BIG PLAYERS STOP HOARDING EVERYTHING, A SPACE OPENS UP
Meanwhile, the rest of the ecosystem -smaller players, more focused strategies, and highly specific audiences- is moving in the opposite direction, because when the platform stops covering everything, it creates a space and an opportunity.
This brings us to the important point: not all content competes on the same playing field, and new formats like micro-dramas are beginning to emerge. Vertical dramas are a good example of this shift. I don’t think they’re going to replace film or series; they represent another way of consuming content.
A vertical drama isn’t about cutting a movie into two-minute segments. It follows a different narrative logic: simpler, more direct, and focused on capturing a specific emotion. It doesn’t aim to develop characters, but rather to capture a moment, because there’s no time; that’s why they tend to be more one-dimensional.
It’s content designed from the ground up for a specific audience, context, and consumption style. Furthermore, the economic model forces us to produce content differently: budgets, timelines, and the ways of writing, filming, and producing all change, because when the format changes, the grammar changes too.
What I’m trying to say is that content is designed and produced based on a specific audience and consumption pattern. That’s why it doesn’t compete with a film or a series; it serves a different purpose.
THE MARKET IS DIVIDED
This logic goes far beyond vertical dramas: what’s relevant is what it’s telling us: where the industry is headed. Ultimately, that’s the central point: the market is dividing: on one side, a few platforms with large, massive investments; on the other, an ecosystem of niche content designed for specific audiences. And in between, nothing; the middle ground is slowly disappearing. Projects that aren’t big enough or specific enough are the ones that suffer the most.
The idea that a platform could finance and absorb any project is also disappearing. It’s no longer enough for a story to be good; it must respond to a strategy, an audience, an economic model, and a consumption pattern. This forces us to think differently: in terms of financing -theatrical releases, co-productions, and incentives- but also creatively: who the story is for, where it will be received, and how it will be consumed. Increasingly, content is designed based on its market position. And that also changes how we produce. It’s no longer enough to develop a good idea and go out and sell it. We have to design a project from the end, from the back to the front.
Caja Azul -a film starring Luisana Lopilato and Gustavo Bassani, directed by Martín Hodara- was conceived with an international pre-sale and co-production strategy. They worked with Mediapro on its financial structure after closing the pre-sale. From the beginning, it was designed to be filmed in Canada, taking advantage of incentives and local talent for a global platform.
In contrast, ¿Querés ser mi hijo? had private financing, incentives from Uruguay, and a bet on a very mainstream talent like Wanda Nara. It also embraced a theatrical release and an alliance with Telefe to take the project to another level.
So, you package a marketing, financial, and distribution solution, and then you go out and offer the project to the market. They’re different projects, different models, but the idea is the same: build from the back to the front. First: where it will be located, who it’s for, how it will function over time, and why now; then: how it will be financed and how it will be implemented. And that’s how you put the project together. That’s the order.
PROJECTS AREN’T FUNDED, THEY’RE DESIGNED
It’s not just a creative matter, but a matter of design from the outset. In this context, a new layer emerges: operators who not only produce, but also organize content around audiences through curation, consistency, and continuity.
This also applies to the catalog: titles with a proven audience now find a place on curated niche services that don’t compete with major releases. They fulfill a different function: they capture audiences, generate consistency and identity, and occupy a different space within the market.
The market has changed. It’s no longer enough to have a good story; the real question is: where does it belong and how do you design it to work there?
Q&A
How do you break the cycle where, to sell a project, you first need to develop it creatively, but often you don’t define its commercial strategy, its release window, or its audience until later?
Before, you’d put together the story, the characters, the arc, everything, and then you’d say, “What a great story I have!” and you’d go out and pitch it. Now I think it’s different. I understand that you need a foundation, but from that point on, you have to think about the scope of that story, whether it’s for a platform or a niche audience, and start designing it from there.
How does a creator or producer know the scope of their project?
It’s a matter of perception. You want to believe that your project is the biggest, that it’s going to go to Netflix, Amazon, or the major platforms, and that they’re going to give it amazing marketing. That’s not reality. You have to be honest and ask yourself what audience it can have: “Yes, it’s big for Argentina, but not for the rest of the world.” Based on that scope, you define whether it’s for a mass audience or a niche market and think about who you’re going to present it to. It’s really difficult, but that’s what you have to try to aim for.
What elements allow you to identify a project’s potential place within the market and the commercial offerings?
The theme and the talent are two fairly definitive aspects. If the theme is a very strong IP, for example, from Peru, you have to assume it’s for Peru; if it later travels, perfect. The theme already establishes the scale. Talent helps a lot, although it’s not the only factor.
To use the analogy of a house: if you’re going to build it in a low-income neighborhood, you don’t build a 500-square-meter house with 50 rooms. You build a logical house, designed for the people who will live there and for the climate. From there, you adjust the materials; in a project, that means deciding if it will be a film or a series, how many episodes it will have, and how you’re going to build it.
Before, you’d put together the project, a platform would come along, provide the funding, and finance it. Today, you first have to think about the neighborhood you’re building for and how you’re going to pay for that construction, until whoever buys the project can afford it. That’s the difference I’m trying to convey.
And there’s another painful reality: good stories no longer have a place in this market.
What kind of projects do you consider unviable and unsustainable today?
Prestigious, expensive projects, and award-winning ventures where a platform paid for everything without budget limitations. It’s very difficult for an independent project from a small country to succeed today based solely on a platform; it will have to be done with incentives and in a more artisanal way.
Before, Netflix, Amazon, HBO, or Disney financed those kinds of projects. That’s no longer the case. Even the themes have changed: more cerebral or substantive stories are harder to get off the ground if they don’t have a thriller, a true crime story, or a romance to wrap them up.
Big-name IPs (Mafalda, El Eternauta) do have a place because they attract audiences with their names alone. They’re also produced with high production values. What’s increasingly less space are the more niche projects: projects like División Palermo or Porno y Helado in Argentina; or Mentiras in Mexico. They were riskier bets, even though Mentiras was based on a great IP, making a musical was a risk. I think that kind of project will disappear. Today, it’s much harder for a project that doesn’t play it safe, that goes more to the center of the spectrum, to get the green light.
What do we do with the content in between?
I think that kind of content doesn’t have a place today. In the two examples I gave –Caja Azul and ¿Querés ser mi hijo?– we worked to fit them into one of two categories: either a niche project -I’m not saying that platforms don’t buy niche content- or one with a wider reach. The middle ground is gone.
Can it return? Maybe. I think increasingly larger curated collections will emerge to fill that space. It’s happening in Hollywood: US$20 or US$30 million films have practically disappeared, and labels like A241 have emerged to fill that gap. So, it’s either a small independent film or a blockbuster.
Based on your approach of building projects backward, does the screenwriter no longer start the process?
A24 is a global, award-winning entertainment company dedicated to the production and distribution of film, television, documentaries, music, publishing, and consumer products. Founded in New York in 2012, it has built a catalog of over 150 films and 50 television series, earning critical acclaim and commercial success, with more than 18 Academy Awards, 14 Golden Globes, and 18 Emmy Awards.
Yes, it starts with the screenwriter, because the project comes to you and you give feedback: “You have to change it this way, otherwise we won’t sell it.”
How do you prevent this logic from sacrificing the originality and freshness that a text or screenplay brings?
You have to go one way or the other. When I talk about mass appeal, I don’t mean something unoriginal. It can also be an absolutely original project. Adolescence, for example, started as a very small production; then Netflix saw its potential and decided to make it big. If you come up with something truly fresh and different, a platform might be interested precisely for that reason. If not, the other option is to keep it small and let the project grow.
The Eternaut was approved by a different mindset and at a different time. Like Maradona, it was a multi-million dollar production that would be difficult to make for Latin America today. Those kinds of investments are very rare now.
The same is true for The House of the Spirits: it’s a production designed to work in all markets, with actors from different countries. Maradona was also conceived that way. I think The Eternaut had a very strong impact on the region. I don’t know if the investment was worthwhile for Netflix, but I suppose it was; otherwise, there wouldn’t be a second season.
Today, decisions are made less with awards in mind and more with reaching the audience. It’s hard to say, but it’s the reality. That’s why I insist that projects in the middle have to move toward one of the two extremes. Do they still exist? Yes, just like A24 continues to produce US$15 or US$20 million films. But they are becoming fewer and fewer.
If a good story gets stuck in the middle, it probably won’t get made. You have to steer it in one direction or the other to give it a chance. In the end, that’s what we all want: to keep producing because we love it, we make a living from it, and it’s fun.
Does the Latin American audiovisual industry currently have the audience data and the necessary tools to produce strategically?
It depends on who you talk to, your access to information, and your ability to identify gaps in the market. Some people are already understanding this and specializing: politics, reality TV, horror… But again, they’re designing these projects with an eye to where they’ll be based from the start.
Today, you can’t make a local horror film without talent to attract an audience and invest five or six million dollars hoping it will work. Before, that might have been possible because platforms were in a learning phase and could spend millions to understand the market. Now they know what works and how much to invest. It’s a reality check.
Where are vertical content formats headed, and what role are they playing?
I don’t know. My feeling is that it’s another medium for telling stories. I don’t think it’s going to replace radio, television, film, or streaming; it’s another way of consuming content. They’ve already tried editing novels or fragmenting films, and it didn’t work because it operates on a different logic.
It’s another medium and another way to monetize. The big question remains how to make the numbers work. In Asia, the model operates very differently; in Latin America, it’s still a challenge to know if people will pay for this content.
On a narrative level, I also don’t think it’s going to replace series or films. You can’t tell the story of News of a Kidnapping, Argentina, 1985, or Stranger Things in one- or two-minute episodes. Perhaps an intermediate format will emerge, with five-minute episodes. Maybe. Nobody knows. What I do believe is that vertical content isn’t going to kill series or films; it’s another, complementary form of storytelling.
I think that today, vertical content primarily serves a marketing function: it helps position or bring established content and talent into the conversation. It also caters to a particular consumption style (brain rot): not having to think or commit to sitting down and watching something longer. I think that’s part of its appeal.
If you look at the history of streaming platforms, there’s always been an experimental phase to understand what works, as happened with the number of episodes—four, six, eight, ten, or twenty. I think the same thing is happening with vertical content. Furthermore, trends change quickly: from romance, we moved to more explicit content, and now horror is starting to emerge.
I think the format is going to evolve because audiences are starting to get tired of it, and they’re already looking for ways to tell stories within that language. It seems like streaming platforms are jumping on this bandwagon so they don’t get left behind, just like what happened with FAST. For now, I think it’s mainly a distributors’ business.
What’s your stance on Artificial Intelligence (AI) right now?
I think AI is a great tool and also incredibly dangerous. In Hollywood, actors and writers are already saying, “Okay, enough is enough,” and I think the same thing is going to happen in Latin America. Talent, especially established talent, still has some protection because the ecosystem needs it. In the short term, I don’t think AI is going to replace creativity; things will change a lot on the technical side, though.
I think AI allows many projects in the medium to shift towards the other side: making them more streamlined and efficient, replacing processes to reduce costs. I think something similar is happening with vertical series; Many shows are already being made with AI because, in some way, it will have to be incorporated if they want the numbers to add up. In the end, production, AI, curation, and channels all become intertwined. How exactly it will be integrated is a good question.
Understanding that history is cyclical, one can think of Hollywood in the 1960s: an industry increasingly betting on giant projects, safe models, and industrialized formulas, when television had already reached homes. Do you think we are experiencing a similar process today, with platforms versus social media?
I think it’s a cyclical process. Vertical series are another medium, as radio, television, or streaming were in their time; new spaces appear, but they don’t necessarily replace the old ones. That’s why I think the medium will return. Perhaps with mid-sized players other than the major studios, or with a second brand created by them, as happened with cable. The key is that there will always be demand and an audience for everything.
I think we are in a transition today. From within the platforms, it was clear that this era of spending without regard for cost was going to end. It was a huge mess, but designed to learn as much as possible while it lasted. The fourth fateful moment was when Netflix stopped gaining subscribers; that’s when everything changed, and the market split.
That middle ground has to exist, but today, for these projects to succeed, they have to be pushed toward one of the two extremes. I think historical cycles show that that space will return. It’s already happened: before A24 and Neon, there was another company that occupied the space for US$15 or US$20 million films; it disappeared, and these new ones emerged. There will always be someone to occupy that space. I think the same will happen here. The middle ground will return; I don’t know when. But today, if you want to get a greenlight or release a film in the next 12 to 24 months, you have to approach the project differently.
What examples of projects managed to understand where to sell themselves, who would see them, without losing their authorial identity?
I’m going to be self-referential, but I think Caja Azul is a good example. It was a project that was languishing, unable to find a home or get greenlit. When we redesigned it, it was released immediately. What we see on screen today is the result of greenlights approved two or three years ago, like El Eternauta, Mentiras, or Venganza. That’s why it’s still difficult to identify projects that already fit this new logic.
I don’t know if Venganza would have been greenlit today. It’s a local action film, a type of movie that wasn’t usually made because that kind of content came from US catalogs. However, it was made and it turned out very well.
I think those projects will start to emerge in about 12 months. Then we’ll see who managed to maintain their vision and find the right niche. There are already projects in development that follow that logic: adapting so they can be easily digested.
Do you think a fictional series about the Falklands War heroes, considering its 50th anniversary, should target a niche audience or not limit itself to a wider reach?
The Falklands War heroes are a niche topic because, in market terms, it’s primarily for Argentina, even though it’s a major issue for the country. There were several Falklands War projects that reached development, but they didn’t get greenlit or fell through at the last minute. The problem is that it presents an epic story for a niche market, not for large markets like Mexico, Brazil, or the United States.
The question has always been the same: how do you create an epic production for a niche market? That’s precisely the kind of project that’s currently stuck in limbo, and which probably would have been made before.
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