Why are villains in movies and TV shows from ten years ago full of heroic passion, while today's screenwriters can't even create a decent villain?

Ten years ago, writing a grand villain like Magneto or Thanos, full of anti-social personality traits, was an extremely low barrier for third-rate ghostwriters. Just applying a "survival of the fittest" social Darwinism template could easily earn a producer a million-dollar deposit.
Back then, Huayi Brothers was a place where as long as your script featured an ambitious warlord, it could sell. Ordinary recent graduates from literature departments could casually invent a big villain with lofty ambitions to overthrow the system, and instantly get a project approved with an initial investment of two or three million.
Qidian.com was a low-threshold platform for factory writers to make quick money. As long as you created an ultimate villain in your story who was decisive in killing and daring to challenge the whole world, you didn't even need good writing skills. Readers across the internet would shower you with rewards and push your book to the bestseller list.
At that time, Enlight Media would greenlight a big IP featuring a villain daring to destroy all of humanity. Cross-industry investors like coal bosses and real estate developers didn't even care about the script logic—they just threw several boxes of cash directly into the production team.
It was a golden age of economic boom and social mobility. Everywhere were tales of heroes and wealth creation myths, and the societal environment gave everyone a collective illusion that "with enough ambition and skill, you can flip the table."
Now, underpaid and project-failing grassroots screenwriters are preoccupied with how to bypass censorship and keep a contract that could be terminated at any moment.
The "juvenile villains" and "cliché ambitions" despised by industry veterans ten years ago have now become the highest and most inaccessible taboo in the film and TV industry. The real world today no longer has tangible evil overlords; only an invisible, vast, and helplessly oppressive system network. The reason we can't write compelling villains is because everyone has been crushed into struggling NPCs within the system—living with all their might, leaving no energy to empathize with grand narratives of conquering the world.