The Set Behind The Scenes
The last light fell on the soundstage. The boom mics had been stowed. The crew was gone. And in the echoing emptiness, mountains of scenery, props, lumber, and plastics stood silent—waiting to be hauled away.
For decades, such “wraps” meant trailers lining up at dusk, dumpsters queued outside, and a barrage of materials destined for the landfill. Yet now, amidst climate alarms and social pressure, Hollywood is quietly confronting one of its least glamorous legacies: waste.
In February 2024, NPR published a revealing piece, “How Hollywood Art Directors Are Working to Keep Their Sets Out of the Landfill,” laying bare a behind-the-scenes reality: a typical production can generate about 240 tons of waste, with roughly half of that coming from props and set materials.
Art director Karen Steward, veteran of many productions, recalls the familiar ritual of “dumpsters lining up at the end of the show” as time runs out to vacate the soundstage.
It is not just the quantity but the opacity of disposal that troubles the industry. Once a shoot wraps, accountability often dissolves. Materials vanish into the anonymous churn of waste management.
Steward and her peers have pushed for better practices, founding a Green Committee within the Art Directors Guild to share strategies and shift production culture toward reuse and recycling.
The Rising Tide Of Scrutiny
Hollywood’s waste problem isn’t just local—it’s global in its symbolism and impact. Across journalistic outlets, the story is increasingly framed as emblematic of a larger reckoning.
The Los Angeles–based nonprofit Everyday Action, for example, has taken up the mantle on food waste: after set catering, untouched but safe meals are reallocated to food-insecure residents in the greater metro area.
Their work bridges waste reduction and social equity, showing how environmental responsibility and human compassion can coexist.
Critics have also begun to speak out. In July 2025, The Guardian reported on actor Benedict Cumberbatch condemning Hollywood as a “grossly wasteful industry,” citing the excesses of set builds, lighting, energy use, and food consumption.
He challenged the idea of actors as mere voices on sustainability and called for more structural change rather than symbolic gestures.
Meanwhile, The Hollywood Reporter noted the rise of eco-tools such as TheGreenShot, which allows studios to map carbon and waste footprints before filming even begins. Digital innovation, once part of the problem, is now quietly becoming part of the solution.
Innovation, Resistance, And Real Change
One story that combines humility, ingenuity, and idealism is that of Fishtown Films, a small Philadelphia outfit. Its feature film Citywide was shot with a radically low waste goal: all trash generated over three years fit into a 16-ounce jar. Comparatively, a large film might produce hundreds of tons.
The filmmakers insisted on zero-packaging food, thrifted costuming, and a crew committed from day one to waste awareness. “Don’t be a hero. Just do what you can do,” one of them said—a quiet motto for a noisy industry.
This kind of grassroots ambition contrasts with large studio inertia. In Los Angeles, companies like EcoSet have emerged as intermediaries: when productions wrap, they collect unused set pieces, props, paint, and furniture—not to discard, but to redirect toward donation, reuse, or recycling.
In 2023 alone, EcoSet diverted over 214 tons of reusable materials from landfills. Yet the operation faces hurdles: some donated items still end up wasted later, and rising real estate costs have shrunk the warehouses that once held reusable set stockpiles.
Another player, Earth Angel, works as an on-set sustainability consultant across productions. On The Whale, they diverted 5.4 tons of material from landfills, repurposed 2.1 tons as donations, and reclaimed over 1,800 meals for local distribution.
Their model focuses on embedding environmental responsibility into production workflows, rather than applying it as a cosmetic layer after the fact.
Change within film production continues to meet steady resistance. In the fast-paced rhythm of movie-making, every minute carries financial weight.
Many department leaders hesitate to adopt waste-sorting or recycling measures, viewing them as added burdens on already tight schedules.
As production wraps, efficiency often takes precedence over environmental responsibility, leading to large amounts of material being discarded in haste.
Despite growing awareness and new sustainability guidelines, long-standing habits and time pressures still make it difficult for crews to fully prioritize green practices.
A Shifting Landscape
The question of waste is tied to Hollywood’s broader transformation. As tax incentives lure filmmaking to other regions, local pressures—environmental, political, and economic—push studios to adapt or relocate.
In 2025, on-location filming in Los Angeles declined 22% year-over-year, with feature production down nearly 29%. Meanwhile, a “Stay in LA” campaign rallied industry workers urging the state to bolster local incentives and retain jobs.
In this shifting geography, studios may increasingly adopt sustainability as both a competitive edge and a moral necessity. In Ontario, for example, the provincial film commission actively promotes low-carbon and waste-diversion practices to attract international productions.
Meanwhile, alliances like the Sustainable Entertainment Alliance and the Green Rider campaign are redefining contracts between actors and producers—committing both sides to measurable sustainability standards for travel, materials, and energy use.
Looking Ahead: Slow Roll, Steady Hope
Hollywood’s waste problem cannot be solved with a single hero moment or social media campaign. Real change must come from the margins: pre-production planning that includes reuse budgets, mindset shifts in art departments, and a shared culture of care on every crew.
As Steward and the Art Directors Guild have shown, changing the habits of those who build the worlds we consume is where transformation begins.
In one quiet studio back lot, an art director surveys the remains of their creative vision—scraps of wood, painted foam, and bits of cloth—and pauses. Could this plank go to a local school? Could that prop be rebuilt into something new? That moment of reflection, before the dumpster, might just be where change begins.
If Hollywood can treat its waste not as an afterthought but as part of its creative story, the narrative shifts. A film industry that builds worlds without burying them can tell stories that inspire not only audiences but the planet itself. In that not-so-small shift lies hope—a chance for Hollywood to craft a more circular, thoughtful world behind the camera.
