The former president has a new enemy, and this time it's subtitled. Donald Trump announced yesterday that he plans to slap a 100% tariff on all foreign films entering American shores, citing—wait for it—national security concerns and Hollywood's declining influence.
"We need to PROTECT our GREAT American film industry from FOREIGN INVASION," Trump declared on Truth Social, in what might be his most creative use of capital letters since last Tuesday. "Hollywood used to be the BEST in the world, now it's FAILING because of cheap foreign competition. National security issue! 100% TARIFF starting immediately!"
Yes, you read that correctly. The man whose most notable film credit involves directing Macaulay Culkin to the Plaza Hotel lobby has now cast foreign cinema as the villain in America's ongoing cultural drama. It's a plot twist not even M. Night Shyamalan would have attempted.
I've covered Trump's trade policies since 2016, and this latest move represents what I call "sovereignty theater"—the increasingly common practice of reframing basic economic competition as an existential threat to American greatness. It's like watching an action movie where the stakes keep escalating until suddenly the fate of the universe depends on saving a neighborhood bakery.
Hollywood's Real Problems (Spoiler: Not Subtitles)
Look, Hollywood has indeed hit some rough patches lately. But attributing its struggles to foreign competition is like blaming your hangover on the one glass of water you had between tequila shots.
The American film industry's challenges stem primarily from streaming wars, pandemic disruptions, dual writers' and actors' strikes, and the fact that seemingly every movie now needs to involve either superheroes or Timothée Chalamet (often both). Foreign films account for a tiny slice of the American market—roughly $600 million in a $12 billion domestic box office.
The irony here is thick enough to spread on toast. American movies have dominated global cinema for decades. In 2024, eight of the top ten highest-grossing films worldwide came from American studios. Hollywood exports about $15 billion annually in film and television content, creating one of the few trade surpluses America consistently enjoys.
But why let economic reality ruin a perfectly good protectionist narrative?
When "Parasite" Becomes a National Security Threat (Not That Kind of Parasite)
Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of this announcement is the "national security" justification. I've spent years analyzing how this particular phrase gets stretched like salt water taffy at the county fair, but protecting America from French art house films and Korean thrillers represents new territory.
Section 232 of U.S. trade law was originally intended for materials with actual defense applications—you know, minor things like steel, uranium, and titanium. Its potential application to Bollywood dance sequences raises some questions about... well, everything.
"I've reviewed thousands of national security assessments," Dr. Amanda Rigby, trade policy expert at Georgetown University, told me yesterday. "And I can confidently say this is the first time anyone has suggested that subtitles represent a clear and present danger."
How broadly can "national security" be stretched before it simply means "anything I don't like"? Cultural influence constitutes a form of soft power, certainly. But the leap from "Parasite" winning an Oscar to undermining American sovereignty requires Olympic-level mental gymnastics.
What Would This Actually Do? (Besides Make Film Snobs Angry)
So what happens if this tariff actually materializes? (A big if, considering this is coming from a man whose policy announcements often have the shelf life of unrefrigerated sushi.)
For starters, those obscure international titles at your local art house theater would become twice as expensive—assuming they get imported at all. Independent theaters, already teetering financially after COVID, would face another existential crisis. Because nothing says "America First" like killing small businesses that cater to educated urbanites.
The foreign film market in the U.S. is relatively small but culturally significant. It's particularly important for prestigious award-season contenders and the type of thoughtful, mid-budget adult dramas that Hollywood studios have largely abandoned in favor of franchise tentpoles where things go boom.
(The fact that American studios have essentially surrendered the "films for grown-ups" category to international competitors is an irony apparently lost on the "make Hollywood great again" crowd.)
We've Seen This Movie Before
This isn't America's first rodeo with cultural protectionism. In the 1920s, European countries established screen quotas to limit Hollywood's dominance, prompting retaliatory measures. France has long subsidized its film industry under what they call "cultural exception," arguing that art shouldn't be treated like washing machines in trade agreements.
The difference? Those policies were honestly framed as cultural preservation, not disguised as national security imperatives. There's something refreshingly straightforward about France saying, "We make weird, philosophical films with excessive smoking and minimal plots, and we're going to subsidize them because they're part of our identity, dammit."
I spoke with several film distributors yesterday who were, predictably, horrified. "This would destroy decades of cultural exchange," said one executive who requested anonymity because they "still need to work in this town if this lunacy passes."
The Final Reel
What this proposal really reveals isn't a coherent trade policy but a particular view of America's place in the world—one where any challenge to domestic industries, even cultural ones, represents not just competition but betrayal.
When policymakers start treating "Amélie" as a strategic threat on par with hypersonic missiles, we've moved beyond economic policy into something resembling cultural panic.
Now, I'm not suggesting foreign films can't influence American viewers. Anyone who watched "Squid Game" and then found themselves eyeing their children's playground equipment differently can attest to that. But the pathway from cultural influence to national security threat is... what's the word I'm looking for? Ah yes: ridiculous.
In the meantime, American cinephiles might want to stock up on their Kurosawa collections and Almodóvar box sets before prices potentially double. Because in this particular screening of "America First," foreign subtitles have been cast as the unexpected villain.
Talk about a twist ending nobody saw coming.
