The Oscars are officially heading to the small screen. A very small one.

Starting in 2029, with the 101st Academy Awards, the world’s most prestigious film prize will leave broadcast television and move to YouTube, where it will be streamed live, globally, and free of charge. The multi-year deal runs through 2033 and brings an end to a decades-long relationship with ABC, which will retain the rights through 2028, the year the ceremony celebrates its centennial.

This is not just a platform shift. It’s a shift in logic.

According to the Academy, the move reflects a long-standing ambition to expand the Oscars’ global reach, offering closed captions, multiple language options, alternate audio tracks, and full access not only to the ceremony itself, but also to red carpet coverage, behind-the-scenes content, and the Governors Ball. In practical terms, the goal is to reposition the Oscars as a truly global event — something American broadcast television, symbolic as it may be, can no longer deliver on its own.

Official statements frame the agreement as a celebration. The Academy speaks of legacy, access, new generations, and film preservation. YouTube speaks of cultural impact, creative inspiration, and continuity. But beneath the carefully polished language lies a far more complex set of tensions.

The Academy has been shopping for a new broadcast deal for much of 2025. Disney/ABC, NBCUniversal, and even less conventional players entered the conversation. What surprised many was the outcome: YouTube emerged as the winner with a nine-figure offer, beating out high eight-figure bids from traditional media giants.

Disney, which had been paying roughly $100 million per year, was reportedly unwilling to maintain that level of investment given the ceremony’s long-term ratings decline. While recent editions have shown modest recovery, the Oscars are far removed from their former cultural dominance. Not even the infamous Will Smith–Chris Rock incident in 2022 managed to restore the show’s centrality. In 1998, when Titanic swept the ceremony, the Oscars drew 57 million viewers. In 2025, they reached just over 18 million — respectable by today’s linear TV standards, but emblematic of a broader decline.

What makes the deal especially striking is that YouTube does not yet have the kind of live-event production infrastructure built by streamers like Netflix or Amazon. Over the next three years, it will need to assemble that machinery from scratch. Some insiders believe that this is precisely why the Academy chose YouTube: the platform allows the Academy to reclaim full creative control.

No time limits. No forced cuts. No battles over which categories make the broadcast. No pressure from prime-time schedules. An Oscars ceremony that can last as long as it wants, for better or worse.

“They can do whatever they want,” one executive said. “You could have a six-hour Oscars hosted by MrBeast.” The comment may sound flippant, but it captures the moment: the Oscars are entering a space where tradition and creator culture coexist uneasily.

Many questions remain unanswered. What happens to the Academy’s international distribution deals, which currently generate additional licensing and advertising revenue? Does YouTube’s fee compensate for those losses? How will viewership be measured on a platform without linear-TV metrics? And perhaps most importantly: how does the Oscars maintain audience attention on a platform designed for constant distraction?

At the same time, clinging to broadcast television alone is no longer viable. Like it or not, the Oscars have lost their central place in American popular culture. Cinema has changed. Viewing habits have changed. Consumption has changed. And YouTube — already the most-watched streaming platform in the world — will likely be even more dominant by the start of the next decade.

The comparison many are drawing is historical: when Fox secured NFL rights in 1994 without any established sports infrastructure, it seemed like a reckless gamble. Shortly thereafter, Fox Sports was born and reshaped the network’s identity. YouTube does not need reinvention; it is already enormous. But the Oscars serve as a definitive stamp of cultural legitimacy.

Still, one question lingers: what will an “Oscar movie” even mean in 2029? In a landscape of shrinking theatrical windows, studios in flux, and ongoing debates about the future of cinema exhibition, the industry’s highest honor, moving to a digital platform, is not merely symbolic. It is deeply revealing.

Perhaps the Oscars are once again trying to survive their era. Or perhaps they are finally acknowledging that the era has changed, and that resisting too long may be more dangerous than taking the risk.

Either way, Hollywood has just crossed another point of no return.