Rather than making a summer splash, Disney’s live-action "Moana" remake floundered at the box office. Opening with $43 million domestically against a $250 million production budget, the film is already projected to lose the studio between $100 and $125 million, according to Deadline. It’s also a disappointing outcome for Dwayne Johnson, reprising his role as the demigod Maui, as it extends a streak of commercial flops for one of Hollywood’s highest-paid stars. Johnson was reportedly paid nearly $30 million as star and producer for "Moana."

The biggest takeaway isn’t that the actor is mired in a slump, but that Hollywood’s compensation structures have not fully adjusted to a reality where star power has become less predictive of box office performance. If studios want to rein in blockbuster budgets and mitigate risk, they should stop paying actors as if success is guaranteed and start rewarding them when they actually deliver it.

Johnson has long lived up to the billing as one of Hollywood’s most bankable stars. Between IP franchises ("Fast & Furious" and "Jumanji") and original tentpoles ("Skyscraper" and "San Andreas"), his films had been reliable box office draws, and his salaries consistently reflected it. Since 2016, Johnson has been Hollywood’s highest earner four times, per Forbes. In that time, no other actor has topped the list more than once.

However, the star’s recent output has delivered more misses than hits. In 2022, "Black Adam" was supposed to launch a new franchise within the DC Extended Universe; instead, the film underperformed, and Warner Bros. elected to start from scratch with James Gunn at the helm of a new superhero slate. "The Smashing Machine" was Johnson’s bid for awards-season credibility last year, but the film failed to resonate commercially or with Academy voters. "Red One" was a critically panned Christmas comedy in 2024 that grossed $181.8 million worldwide against a $250 million budget. For that role, Johnson earned an estimated $50 million, which is believed to be the highest upfront payment for a single movie in Hollywood history.

His situation is notable because he commands some of the industry’s largest upfront paydays. But his recent struggles raise the question of whether those guarantees still make sense when the economics of movie stardom have shifted.

Established franchises and intellectual property are increasingly important drivers of consumer demand for tentpoles, while low-budget breakouts like "Obsession" and "Backrooms" can deliver blockbuster-sized returns through word-of-mouth and savvy marketing rather than marquee names. In other words, the industry’s old assumption that major stars are the biggest factor in determining whether a movie is a hit has become harder to justify.

Which brings us to backend participation — the practice of paying stars a share of a film’s profits ran than all of their compensation upfront. This isn’t a new idea. Hollywood stars have used it for decades to share in a film’s profits. But the streaming era has complicated that model by disrupting the traditional link between a movie’s success and an actor’s compensation.

Even when these projects receive a theatrical release, streamers have paid A-list talent upfront without the same performance-based incentives. In these cases, compensation rewards reputation without accounting for whether that reputation translates into audience demand on a given project.

“There is now a misalignment of incentives,” entertainment lawyer Marc Simon said in a 2022 interview with the Wrap. “A fair traditional contingent compensation model aligns the interest of the financial backers and everyone invested in the creation of content. It has to be a success to be of economic benefit. Paying upfront dilutes the incentive and, ultimately, content creation is harmed.”

Recent history shows why the alternative remains attractive. Tom Cruise took a (relatively) modest $13 million upfront for "Top Gun: Maverick" in exchange for a cut of the box office — and ended up making at least $100 million when the film became the biggest hit of 2022. Similarly, "Barbie" star Margot Robbie traded a standard fee for backend participation that turned her $12.5 million salary into roughly $50 million.

For studios, the appeal of guaranteed paydays is clear. They provide certainty for how much they pay actors while allowing them to avoid sharing as much revenue if a film becomes a hit. But with enough flops on the ledger, this becomes less of a strategy than a gamble. Johnson collected nearly $30 million from "Moana" regardless of the box office; Disney is the one left footing the bill.

Johnson has another blockbuster on the way this year, "Jumanji: Open World," and considering his larger filmography, it’s not a stretch to assume that more high-profile (and high-paying) projects will follow. Massive guarantees shouldn’t be the default for stars of this stature. Future compensation packages that rely more heavily on backend participation don’t have to be viewed by actors as pay cuts. It’s a bet on themselves.

If Johnson remains one of Hollywood’s biggest draws — and his recent flops prove to be temporary setbacks — he will be rewarded accordingly. But if he no longer has the ability to attract audiences on his own, studios don’t have to be the only ones absorbing the risk.

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This column reflects the personal views of the author and does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.

Miles Surrey is a Brooklyn-based culture writer. His work has also appeared in The Ringer, Men’s Health, and Vox.

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