In case you hadn’t noticed, film executives believe they finally know the secret to making a… In case you hadn’t noticed, film executives believe they finally know the secret to making a successful movie: Shun original ideas at all cost.

It’s become almost passe to bemoan Hollywood’s obsession with making a profit, but columnist Mark Harris still manages to make the issue seem incendiary. With snide assurance, the former Entertainment Weekly executive editor outlines in February’s GQ the myriad interrelated reasons why originality has been almost entirely eclipsed by marketing sensibilities — a process he doesn’t hesitate to proclaim the “death” of movies.

Harris has a long list of culprits he blames for the industry’s supposed demise, ranging from movie marketing whizzes to the makers of “Top Gun.” Even ordinary audiences aren’t spared — we’re simply too preoccupied with private streaming devices, he said, to invest the time and money into the local multiplex.

There’s a lot in Harris’ column worth engaging — I encourage everyone to read it — but I’d like to focus my attention on the point I found most arresting: the idea that Hollywood films are evaluated first and foremost on the basis of sales potential. Only once a movie’s bankability is assured do studios busy themselves with the almost negligible chore of brainstorming its execution.

This would at least partially explain the predominance of franchises at the multiplex — squalid recyclings of previous and likely more commendable efforts. The rationale guiding the proliferation of these films is that they’re extensions of already-existing “brands,” and therefore make for safer investments than original features. “Harry Potter,” for instance, was already a best-selling novel before it hit theaters; “Scott Pilgrim” was a popular comic book. Sequels, too, are brands, as are remakes. Original features on the other hand — movies like “Inception” or “Avatar” — are treated as anomalies when they do succeed and affirmations of this model when they don’t.

Lest you think this mentality is exaggerated, Harris enumerates this year’s movie roster, which includes “four adaptations of comic books,” “one sequel to a sequel to a sequel to a movie based on an amusement-park ride,” “one prequel to a remake,” “two sequels with a 5 in the title” and “one sequel that, if it were inclined to use numbers, would have to have a 7 1/2 in the title [‘Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Pt. 2’].”

Indeed, a cursory comparison of the top 10 highest-grossing films of 1973 and the top 10 highest-grossing films of 2010 underscores the sheer unoriginality of our cinematic landscape: In the former list original features, including “American Graffiti” and “Last Tango in Paris,” are prevalent; in the latter only two films, “Inception” and “Despicable Me,” aren’t taken from existing stories.

Given the current obsession with brands, it’s easy to imagine a sort of cinematic dystopia wherein every “new” film is a spin-off, sequel or remake of some previous work. The entertainment landscape begins to abide by a law of diminishing returns — the originality of films approaching but never quite equaling zero. Eventually, the industry’s bank of reusable material becomes exhausted; sometime perhaps after “Saw 178.”

To avert this nightmare scenario, if we’re not already in the midst of it, I’d like to advocate a boycott of sorts: From here on out, any movie that is in some ways an extension of an existing brand, including comic book movies, sequels and remakes, should be shunned until it hits Netflix. Conversely every original feature, especially if it’s one with the backing of major studios, should merit our theater attendance. Whether any of these movies are any good should be of no object — the fate of the cinema is at stake.

Of course my initiative is unlikely to find much support among moviegoers, particularly those eagerly anticipating the new Batman installment or the final chapter of the “Harry Potter” series. Nevertheless, it makes for an interesting exercise to envision the consequences of this collective shunning. After all, if there’s any way to eradicate what seems to be an increasingly entrenched mentality, it’s this — Hollywood executives, after all, are notorious for only trusting the money.