A proven audience.An empty category.

The question that arrives in the dark

Somewhere between the ages of 7 and 12, a child lies awake and runs into a thought no one prepared them for: that they're going to die. That the universe isn't a painted moon smiling down — it's a vastness with no caption. That they could have been someone else, and weren't. Why am I here? Why this face, this name, this life? Before I existed, where was I? Do I matter? These aren't tantrums or nightmares. They're the first time a human being sees themselves and sees the world around them — a sudden drop down a roller coaster of reality with nothing to hold on to. A thought that is unsettling and wonderful at once. Lúna is built for that exact moment.

Two discoveries. One threshold.

Inside Out was born from a father. Pete Docter watched his daughter go quiet and distant around the age of eleven and wondered what was happening inside her head. From that hunch — one girl, one father, one intuition — came the film. Five years later, that intuition became the commercial ceiling of children's cinema.

The figure that says the most: the audience's conviction doesn't fall with age — it grows.

Lúna reaches the same threshold from the opposite direction. It wasn't born from a hunch about one girl: it was born from a measurement across a population. Before a single line was written, OSI ran 2,240 structured searches across twelve markets, filtered 660 real fragments, and let the signal through in four. Where Inside Out had a father observing a daughter, we had a method observing four cultures. Same threshold; an intuition versus an evidence base. That's the difference that removes risk: we didn't bet on an idea — we measured the demand before we existed.

Five lights. A hundred questions. No ceiling.

Lúna's architecture is a system, not a story. Five light-entities — Las Grandes — visit the child's room, each the keeper of a territory of questions:

None brings answers. All of them ask. They arrive one per night, one per book — five territories, not five ages: the same question unsettles a seven-year-old and her forty-year-old father alike. The working corpus is a hundred catalogued questions — twenty per territory — but the architecture expands to two hundred, five hundred, and beyond without ever touching the core. A film has a runtime. A question doesn't.

Why it goes further than a film

Because the questions never close, Lúna isn't a title that ends — it's a property that accrues. And the story widens on its own: it begins with a girl alone in her room and, book by book, draws in more people — Mía, her father, her class — until Lúna discovers that everyone asks the same questions (children, parents, even astronomers) and sets out to find out. That's the knot: does everyone feel the same?

Five books, five lights, an arc that grows from a bedroom to a world — with the breadth a film calls for. And from the start it was validated as a global signal across four markets, with no cultural rewriting, alive across four verticals that reinforce one another. The EdTech layer does something a film structurally can't: children write their own questions. A film shows you a mind. Lúna hands the child their own.

An empty seat in a $130 billion room.

The global market for premium children's IP is estimated at $130 billion (PwC, Global Entertainment & Media Outlook 2024). Lúna doesn't fight for a slice: it takes a seat that's empty. Each door has a ceiling already proven by others:

These aren't four bets: they're four doors into the same room, and each stands on its own.

A studio betting that children are smarter than the market thinks.

Behind Lúna there's a thesis, and it's the foundation of the studio: treat children as intelligent, without condescension. Inside Out's own director put it his own way — that children are far more capable than the industry assumes — and even so he had to cut emotions for the sake of simplicity. IP Frontier Studio didn't leave it at intuition: it turned it into method. The studio already explored that path with its first IP, Nano (Nano's Forest, validated by IQVA at 4.40/5, currently in talks with international audiovisual partners), and runs on a proprietary four-engine process — OSI (signal detection), IQVA (viability), Bible (architecture), and One-Sheet (commercial synthesis) — that every IP passes through before it's declared operational. This isn't a studio that sells ambition: it sells discipline — verification before creation. Nano was the first proof of that thesis. Lúna is the second.

What we're looking for.

Lúna isn't a concept in search of capital: it's a real, built IP — registered, with assets already produced and ready to evaluate today. That foundation exists so a partner enters to give a piece reach, not to fund a promise.

There are four doors — audiovisual, publishing, EdTech, product — and each is licensed exclusively by category and territory: a single premium partner per vertical and market, with real room to operate in their lane. This isn't a hunger for control; it's protection — of the partner, who works without internal competition, and of the territory, which stays premium and coherent. The studio guards the narrative core and develops the adaptation with the partner, within the limits of the IP, precisely so the piece is worth more to whoever comes in.

We favor fit over speed: one partner per door, chosen by affinity, not by order of arrival. The conversation is simple, with no financial commitment up front — an NDA, a session to see which door fits you and on what terms, a term sheet, and activation.