While innovation is what makes film history, there are always dealbreakers when it comes to adaptations — and creators should be listening to their audience.

It’s been a bad year for adaptations. The Iron Fist controversy has been a sprawling mess, with the lead actor’s interviews and tweets revealing a complete lack of understanding of the nature of fandom complaints. When faced with questions of whitewashing and the damaging white-savior trope that plagued the show, Finn Jones eventually pointed towards current events to explain the negative reception.

“We filmed the show way before Trump’s election, and I think it’s very interesting to see how that perception, now that Trump’s in power, how it makes it very difficult to root for someone coming from white privilege, when that archetype is public enemy No. 1.”

But the thing is, this isn’t the first time Marvel hears about these issues. While we can’t divorce perceptions of media from the audience’s socio-political situation, misgivings about the problematic nature of the original comic already surrounded Iron Fist long before the show was even in production. Marvel’s decision to move forward anyway only intensified a response that was already there.

Things only got worse when the Iron Fist comic creator, Roy Thomas, offered some rather appalling thoughts in an interview:

“I have so little patience for some of the feelings that some people have. I mean, I understand where it’s coming from. You know, cultural appropriation, my god. It’s just an adventure story. Don’t these people have something better to do than to worry about the fact that Iron Fist isn’t Oriental, or whatever word? I know Oriental isn’t the right word now, either.”

It definitely isn’t the right word. And although Thomas doesn’t speak for the show itself, his candor is likely an accurate reflection of what’s going on behind the scenes. But “these people” are the fans; they are the entire reason the content is created in the first place. Don’t they deserve a little patience?

Iron Fist is only one of the most recent cases of incredibly avoidable mistakes. With whitewashing occupying the front page in social discourse, why would Ghost in the Shell’s filmmakers risk stirring things up even further by introducing a whitewashed version of the female lead?

In cases such as Fantastic Beasts’ Johnny Depp casting, there might be a case for the excuse that contracts had already been signed and production had already begun when Depp’s domestic violence allegations came up, and that by then it was too late to alter them. But this is a rare case — the Harry Potter fandom had no idea that Grindelwald would even be appearing in Fantastic Beasts, and before Depp’s abuse allegations, Warner Bros. had no idea that the casting would prove controversial. Of course, it still leaves us to wonder: would they have moved forward with the casting if they had known beforehand?

Seeing how common avoidable controversies are, the uncomfortable truth may be that Depp would have been cast anyway.

Only last month, Netflix released a trailer for a decidedly whitewashed Death Note film. And after fans cheered for the long-awaited aromantic asexual representation promised by Riverdale’s source material (and supported by actor Cole Sprouse himself), Jughead, who was declared asexual by the original comic’s creator, was still romantically set up with another character — causing an uproar that has yet to be addressed by the show’s creators.

And a particularly catastrophic example of what can happen when you ignore a fandom: the final Divergent movie that will probably never be made. Book fans were vocal about their dislike for the changes made to the story by the time Allegiant was released, and they were the most loyal audience for the films. So why alter the story to a point where the original readers have no desire to stay? Lionsgate dug their own grave on that one. As Neil Burger, the director of the first Divergent movie, even Marvel has now come out saying that their readers didn’t want any more diversity, while the fandom continues to clamor for representation.

Perhaps with Twitter and the internet in general, it becomes easier for the barrier between the creator and the consumer to fade away, and we expect to be listened to more than we should. After all, those who own the rights to make adaptations can do whatever they want with them, and sometimes the initially shocking changes end up persuading us; but how do you choose between independent creation and the audience that has poured love and money into a franchise for years? How much space for innovation should there be when the integrity of a franchise is at risk?

Filmmakers do backtrack now and then, such as Niki Caro when she softened on her original stance regarding the presence of music in Mulan, but it’s hardly ever to make constructive change. It almost always turns defensive, and yet again an important conversation is lost because of pride or PR, and the same age-old creator-consumer relationship is upheld: studios produce the content, audiences eat it up. The fandom becomes an angry, but unheard mob.

Perhaps fandoms aren’t owed everything they ask for, but when the majority’s voice goes unheard, it’s hard not to think that studios are just shooting themselves in the foot.