This algorithmic shift allowed for nuance. In 2018, Grace and Frankie debuted. It wasn't just a show starring 70-somethings Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin; it was a show that explicitly dealt with sex, friendship, entrepreneurship, and mortality in the seventh decade of life. It ran for seven seasons, proving that the "grandma demo" was a myth. They were the viewing demo.

We also need to see mature women in genres outside of "prestige drama." Where is the raunchy comedy for 60-year-olds? Where is the horror film about the grandmother who is the final girl? Where is the Marvel superhero who has hot flashes and joint pain but saves the world anyway? The entertainment industry has finally realized what humanity has always known: women do not expire. A woman at 55 has more to say than she did at 25. She has survived loss, navigated career collapses, raised hell, and knows exactly who she is.

Furthermore, the "Barbie" phenomenon of 2023, while about a doll, was ultimately a film about the patriarchy, motherhood (Rhea Perlman as the inventor), and the angst of female aging (America Ferrera’s monologue about the impossibility of being a woman at any age). It grossed over a billion dollars. The follow-up, The Piano Lesson and Nyad (with Annette Bening swimming to Cuba at 65), continue to drive home that "content for mature women" is not charity—it is a massive, under-tapped market. We have come incredibly far, but the work is not done. The "mature woman" in cinema is still predominantly white, thin, and upper-class. The industry must now push the envelope further to include mature women of color, plus-sized actresses over 50, and queer narratives that don't end in tragedy.