There is a difference between transforming a franchise and stripping it of its identity. Great works need to evolve. New authors naturally bring their own ideas, new characters are introduced, and old stories can receive different interpretations. The problem begins when this evolution stops expanding the universe and starts replacing what originally made the franchise special.
In recent years, this discussion has gained momentum around some of the biggest properties in Western entertainment. From Star Wars to DC and Marvel, part of the audience has begun questioning whether certain productions are still trying to tell stories within these universes or whether they are using established characters as vehicles for new political, social, and ideological perspectives.
This does not mean that every change is bad or that an adaptation needs to faithfully reproduce every detail of the original material. Adaptation is not reproduction. The question is different: how much can a work be changed before it stops representing what made it important in the first place?
The Problem Is Not Change, but Forgetting the Identity
Characters with decades of history inevitably have different versions. Batman has been interpreted in countless ways. Superman has gone through numerous phases. The Jedi have also been presented from different perspectives. This is a natural part of a franchise's expansion.
However, there is a difference between exploring new possibilities and using an isolated characteristic from an old story to justify a complete transformation of a character. Many of these stories are specific versions or alternative interpretations that do not necessarily represent the true legacy of that character or work. A fragment does not necessarily represent decades of development.
If we search hard enough, we will probably find a story capable of justifying practically any interpretation. Likewise, after a particular change is made, a parallel story can be created to reinforce the existence of that idea in another medium. The problem arises when an exception is treated as the rule simply because it is convenient for the new narrative.
This is when a curious situation emerges: the character still has the same name, costume, and symbols, but their personality, values, and role within the story no longer seem to be the same.
Star Wars, DC, and the Conflict with the Past
The Acolyte is a recent example of this discussion. The series attempted to explore a more ambiguous view of the Jedi and the conflict between the Light and the Dark Side. The idea of presenting flawed characters or questioning institutions is not incompatible with Star Wars. The franchise itself has done this many times.
The problem appears when this moral complexity begins to relativize structures that are fundamental to the mythology itself. Complexity does not require every choice to have the same moral value.
In DC, similar discussions arise around new interpretations of classic characters. Hal Jordan, for example, has an identity built over decades around courage, willpower, confidence, and an adventurous spirit. Social issues can certainly be part of a Green Lantern story, but they should not necessarily replace what defines the character.
The same applies to Superman. Changes to Clark Kent's origin or his relationship with his Kryptonian parents can work dramatically, but they can also alter the character's symbolism. One of Superman's central ideas has always been the choice to use extraordinary power to protect those who do not possess the same power.
When changes of this kind stop complementing the character's development and begin contradicting fundamental characteristics established over decades, legitimate questions arise about whether the character is being stripped of their identity and whether the original material is being respected. It would be equivalent to suddenly having Luffy simply give up on becoming the Pirate King without any narrative development to justify such a decision. The point is to ask whether these changes enrich the character or simply create a different version using the same name.
Meanwhile, the East Is Creating New Properties
This situation becomes even more interesting when we look at the growth of Asian cultural industries.
Japan already has an enormous international presence through anime, manga, video games, and other forms of media. China has been expanding its influence with properties such as Genshin Impact, Wuthering Waves, and Black Myth: Wukong, while also developing its own platforms for content creators, such as Bilibili, which also competes for audience attention with Western platforms such as YouTube. South Korea continues to grow through webtoons, K-dramas, music, and video games, while India has one of the largest film industries in the world.
This does not mean that these industries are perfect. There are also bad productions, controversial decisions, and creative problems. The difference is that many of these markets continue to demonstrate an ability to create new properties instead of relying exclusively on rebuilding old franchises. And there is another important point: many of these industries also demonstrate a significant concern for preserving the identity of their franchises.
This could have important consequences in the future. For decades, the Western entertainment industry, particularly that of the United States, was responsible for some of the world's most influential cultural references. Star Wars, Marvel, DC, Disney, and other franchises shaped generations. But cultural relevance is not permanent.
Anime, manga, manhwa, Chinese games, Korean productions, and Indian cinema are competing for the attention of the same new generations. A child who grows up today following a Japanese or Chinese franchise may, ten years from now, consider it just as important as previous generations considered Superman, Batman, or Star Wars.
To be honest, I believe this has already happened, at least to some extent, with the generation that grew up during the 1990s and 2000s as anime rose in popularity in the West. For a significant portion of the audience, Goku already holds a cultural status comparable to, or even greater than, that of many traditional Western characters. And that is without even bringing names such as Naruto, Pokémon, Digimon, One Piece, and Bleach into the equation.
A Franchise Can Evolve Without Forgetting Who It Is
Audiences do not necessarily reject change. They accept new characters, new styles, new stories, and even major alterations when they perceive a genuine understanding of the original work and the characters being portrayed.
What often generates resistance is the feeling that a well-known franchise is being used merely as a wrapper for a story that could exist independently of that intellectual property.
There is, however, a much more interesting alternative: evolving without abandoning the identity.
It is possible to address contemporary issues without turning classic characters into spokespeople for a particular ideology. It is possible to create different protagonists without diminishing the old ones. It is possible to present moral conflicts without destroying the structures that make that universe unique. And, above all, it is possible to create something completely new.
The Real Danger Is Not Change. It Is Forgetting.
The problem is not for a work to have a message. The problem arises when that message requires the work to stop being what it once was, when the author's vision becomes more important than the character they were entrusted to adapt, and when there is a belief that established characters need to be modified in order for new ideas to exist.
If the West continues to wear down its major properties in this way, the risk will not simply be producing bad movies or television shows. The greater danger will be gradually reducing the cultural value of the very franchises that built their position in the global market.
Meanwhile, other countries will continue creating new worlds, new characters, and new intellectual properties.
A franchise does not necessarily disappear when a production fails. It begins to disappear when audiences stop recognizing in it what once made them fall in love with that universe.
In the end, adapting a great work should not simply mean finding a way to make it different. It should mean understanding why it worked in the first place.
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