Another way the movies cut the world down to size for us is via comedies along the lines of Revenge of the Nerds—through tales of undistinguished and even maladapted folks finally getting their day in the sun.

One fairly representative sub-genre involves inept sports teams, which can be manned by either adults or children.   In the typical plot, somebody or something comes along to teach the team how to feel good about themselves and one another, and bingo!  They’ve won the championship.

In tales of this type, the competence and discipline of the reigning champions is presented as not only threatening, but also dislikeable and even somehow a bit unfair.

Of course, comedy being comedy, it is normal for more empathy to be shown for the less formidable and the lesser-endowed—for the story to favor the mouse over the cat, or the road runner over the coyote.  But something is decidedly peculiar about the way these new sports movies treat work and practice.

They are not anything like more traditional athletic sagas involving the grit and determination of classic underdogs like Roger Bannister, the man who was told he would never walk again, but went on by courageous effort and force of will to become the first person to break the four-minute mile.   By contrast, in today’s movies, few of the sympathetic-favorite teams hold more than one or two practices before being utterly transformed.

In other words, sports movies of this new genre cut the world down to size via little more than passive wish fulfillment.  

Is it any coincidence that such tales originate in a prevailing consumer culture of instant gratification?