Meghan and Harry dropped by Netflix: what this means for their reputation

When Meghan Markle and Prince Harry first signed their $100 million deal with Netflix, it was widely seen as a power move, a chance to carve out an independent identity away from the Royal Family, and to position themselves as serious media producers. But this week, that deal was quietly scrapped. According to multiple outlets including People and The Sun, Netflix will not be renewing their contract. It follows their failed Spotify deal last year, and it marks the second major platform to walk away.

From a reputational and commercial perspective, this is a significant blow.

The numbers tell a different story

While insiders have reportedly claimed there is "no animosity" between the couple and Netflix, the platform’s own data paints a harsher picture. According to Netflix's official engagement report, Meghan’s docuseries With Love, Meghan ranked 383rd for global viewership between January and June 2025, with 25.5 million hours viewed. To put that in context, the top series in the same report, Adolescence, reached over 555 million hours viewed, while Squid Game: Season 2 clocked in at 840 million.

By comparison, Meghan’s ranking places her just below a children’s cartoon (Grizzy and the Lemmings) and a season of Peaky Blinders from 2014. Meanwhile, Harry’s polo documentary Heart of Invictus failed to rank in the top 5000 entries entirely, which strongly suggests it generated negligible viewer traction.

When a reported $100 million is attached to your name, those numbers are more than disappointing. They suggest a fundamental miscalculation of audience demand and long-term draw.

The brand value question

For Netflix, these figures make the decision easier. But for Meghan and Harry, the reputational impact is more layered. It raises real questions about their long-term appeal as content creators and public figures. Two global brands, Spotify and now Netflix, have invested heavily in their story and chosen not to continue. That inevitably causes hesitation in boardrooms.

Other platforms and investors will be watching this very closely. If audience engagement continues to underperform, commercial partners may begin to reassess what they’re willing to pay for future deals. Not because of scandal or controversy, but because the figures simply aren’t justifying the fee.

From divisive to diminishing

Meghan and Harry have always been polarising figures, but irrelevance carries a different kind of reputational risk. For a couple who once saturated headlines, the greater concern now is that the noise surrounding them no longer translates into meaningful engagement.

Streaming numbers suggest a reality neither they nor their corporate partners seemed prepared for. The public interest that once followed them hasn’t converted into sustained viewership. It’s not just that others misjudged their influence, they may have misjudged it too.

They aren’t irrelevant in the sense that people don’t talk about them. They’re still written about, criticised, and discussed online, sometimes obsessively so. But that level of attention can be misleading. Just because people talk about you doesn’t mean they want to consume your work.

When attention fades

Even the criticism that used to follow them relentlessly, the tabloid stories, the heated commentary, hasn’t been enough to generate clicks or curiosity. People didn’t tune in to see what the fuss was about. And that, for public figures whose value is linked to visibility, is a serious reputational problem.

A product that didn’t land

Speaking personally, I tried to watch With Love, Meghan, and it was a real struggle. The tone was off, the content felt curated to the point of sterility, and everything about it lacked a sense of authenticity. From conversations I’ve had, that experience was common. Many people couldn’t make it through more than one episode.

It’s not as though Netflix failed to promote it. I remember it being everywhere. My home screen, featured rows, autoplay previews. It simply didn’t connect. And this can’t be blamed on Netflix’s platform or algorithm either. Many lesser-known shows charted well above it. The potential audience was there. The product just didn’t land.

A vision without direction

To be fair, if I were producing a show about myself, I’d probably want to invite friends over to say lovely things about me too. I get the impulse. But I’m no TV producer, and as a viewer, it felt like there was simply too much going on.

It genuinely felt as though Meghan sat in a development meeting listing everything she wanted to include. I can do this, I can show this, I can add this. And no one around the table ever said no. The result was a chaotic blend of segments: arts and crafts, fruit rainbows, Manuka honey party favours for the kids, household organising, emotional reflections, and random guests dropping in to praise her.

There was no clear purpose. Was it a show about Meghan? About food? About lifestyle? About friendship? About entertaining? It didn’t have a centre. And the average viewer already has access to countless lifestyle shows on Netflix that do each of those elements better, usually fronted by people with obvious expertise. This didn’t offer a clear takeaway, a unique perspective, or a compelling reason to keep watching.

The problem with tone

At one point, Mindy Kaling appears and says, “I don't think anyone in the world knows that Meghan Markle has eaten Jack In The Box and loves it.” Meghan, seemingly trying to mask her irritation, replies, “It's so funny you keep saying Meghan Markle, you know I'm Sussex now.” Whether meant playfully or not, it read as unusually cold, especially given she was speaking to someone introduced as a close friend.

It was a moment that jarred. First, because the idea of someone being shocked you’ve eaten fast food is shallow and alienating in itself. (Let’s be fair, even Prince Harry and Prince William went to McDonald’s as kids.) But more than that, it made the dynamic feel stiff, awkward, and insincere. It also unintentionally raised questions about the nature of the friendship. If this was someone considered a best friend, why would she be publicly unsure of your title, or surprised you’ve eaten fast food?

That small exchange might seem trivial, but it reflects a wider issue with the series: tone. It often comes across as image-first and audience-second. And moments like this, where no one in production flagged it as potentially off-putting, are indicative of a team environment where pushback seems absent.

That moment, for me, was a red flag. It made the relationship seem distant and transactional. But more than that, it made me genuinely wonder how something like that made it through the final edit. No producer, editor, or PR advisor flagged it? No one questioned whether the tone might alienate viewers? It signals the kind of creative environment where no one feels able to say no, and that never ends well.

Worse still, for the average audience, it was almost aggressively unrelatable. Overly curated, ungrounded in reality, and lacking the sense of discovery or credibility that makes lifestyle content enjoyable. Netflix already has dozens of shows doing each of those individual components better, led by people whose expertise in food, hosting or design is clear and engaging.

If you’re not offering new information, a distinct voice, or a meaningful emotional arc, then it’s hard to give people a reason to keep watching.

Up until now, they’ve commanded serious corporate attention. This latest development may be a turning point. In the eyes of the industry, the story may be moving from “media power couple” to “diminishing returns.”

Commercial relevance versus cultural noise

Expect the focus to shift increasingly to Meghan’s lifestyle brand, endorsements, and paid speaking opportunities. These areas allow for more control and fewer public metrics, and unlike streaming, don’t require mass viewership to be profitable.

But the Netflix exit still lingers. Meghan and Harry are not irrelevant in the broader cultural sense. They’re still widely discussed, written about, and criticised, often unfairly. The media still targets them. People still talk.

But none of that has translated into sustained engagement where it matters commercially. Despite intense public scrutiny and polarised opinion, their content simply hasn’t drawn the numbers. The audience didn’t show up. And not because they didn’t know it was there, but because many tried it, and didn’t continue.

They aren’t irrelevant as figures. They’re still part of the cultural conversation, still targeted by the press, and still provoke strong emotional reactions, often negative, and often unfairly. But that very noise can be misleading. It’s easy to assume that media attention equals meaningful engagement. In reality, what people seem most interested in are negative headlines, not the content Meghan and Harry produce themselves.

When the pair are in control, when it’s their own show, their own framing, and their own narrative, the response is markedly different. The material feels one-sided, overtly controlled, and heavily skewed towards Meghan. And while that may reflect her voice or vision, it hasn’t proved enjoyable to watch for a broader audience.

The result is a difficult truth. They are not irrelevant in the public eye, but they are commercially irrelevant at the level they’re pricing themselves. The demand simply isn’t matching the price point.

That’s a much harder thing to spin.

It also chips away at the perception they’ve been trying to build. When some of the biggest platforms in the world, Spotify and Netflix, walk away, it becomes much harder to speak with authority on new projects or in future interviews. It narrows what you can credibly reference when pitching your next venture. And for two people actively trying to build a media and lifestyle empire, that’s not just a PR issue, it’s an ego blow. They’ve spoken about wanting to control their narrative, but without platforms willing to carry that narrative at scale, the message risks becoming increasingly internal. You can’t build an empire if the foundation doesn’t hold. Not as a scandal, but as a reputational marker. In this industry, it’s not always about who you are. It’s about how long you can keep the audience watching.

My hardest clients are never the ones who are hated. When you’re hated, at least there’s an emotion. People are watching, even if it’s to criticise. That kind of attention is still energy. But when people stop watching entirely, when they stop caring enough to even form an opinion, that’s when it becomes genuinely difficult. At that point, you’re not fixing a reputation. You’re trying to rebuild an audience that’s already left the room.