No reputable critic recognizes or touts this genre, so far as I know. But I go for movies of a certain type for part of the time, while stuck in a cabin over the Atlantic.

Last year, it was Draft Day. This year, The Longest Ride. Both, to my mind, are slight films at best, probably much worse. Never a temptation in first run.

So what’s the attraction? This elective affinity between slight movies and long flights? A comic rhyme, or ironic reflection of the expense of time in a waste of shame?

I leave the question to philosophers and film critics, as I turn an eye to more weighty stuff: yet another remake of Far From the Madding Crowd. My Hardy in Cliff Notes yet again!

<Saturday night: 11:00PM>