I don’t know about you, but the 2026 film awards season looked less like a celebration of cinema and more like a group therapy session for rich people who hate their audience. One miserable film after another rolled off the Hollywood assembly line, polished, promoted, praised, and instantly forgotten. The critics clapped like trained seals. The audience stayed home, searched Netflix for forty minutes, gave up, and watched an old movie from 1987. That is where we are now. Finding a watchable film has become a treasure hunt through a landfill. Netflix, Amazon Prime, Hulu, and the rest of the streaming swamp are packed with thousands of titles, yet somehow the average viewer still ends up asking the same question: “Is there anything on here that does not look like homework?” Hollywood used to understand the assignment. Entertain the audience. Make them laugh, cry, cheer, gasp, or at least stay awake. Now too many filmmakers seem convinced their sacred duty is to lecture the...