Looking back at the last 20 weeks, you can find some serviceable examples of familiar genres—tame romantic comedy (
Hitch), uplifting sports melodrama (
Coach Carter), all-ages action adventure (
Sahara), star-driven political thriller (
The Interpreter)—all of which have earned decent returns, and even some admiring reviews. But none of them have inspired much excitement or argument, and missing any (or all) of them would not feel like a great loss. They will each show up eventually on basic cable some night when you have nothing else to do, or on the transcontinental flight when your iPod battery is dead and you've forgotten to pick up the latest issue of
Vanity Fair. You'll watch with a shrug and maybe a smile, in all likelihood rendering a judgment consistent with the ambitions of the picture in question: not bad.
From where I sit, not bad is very bad indeed. The commitment to meticulously engineered mediocrity suggests that the American movie industry, in its timid, defensive attempts not to alienate the audience, is doing just that.