Chocolat wasn’t as bad as I feared it might be, but I join the booming chorus of those who think that its nomination for best picture is the Academy embarrassment of the year.

I’m not one of those people who delights in trashing Miramax, the independent studio that has ascended far higher than any other independent studio can or will and boasts a higher total of Oscar nominations over the last few years than many Hollywood studios. (Miramax, technically, is not independent. It is owned by Disney, but run very independently by its founders the Weinstein brothers.) I often say, with gratitude, that Cinema Center is the house that Miramax built. I have rejoiced in many of their well-deserved triumphs.

But Miramax has become so successful and powerful they have picked up some of the bad habits of the old-time Hollywood studio system. Chocolat is a film that betrays all the down sides of the old system. There is nothing genuine or organic in Chocolat. Everything about it is shamelessly formulaic, predictable and included to effectively reach and please its target demographic — women. The Brothers Weinstein looked in their stable of talent and with careful calculation concocted a movie. If you’ve seen many of Miramax’s wonderful releases over the past few years, you’ve already seen everything Chocolat has to offer.

That doesn’t make Chocolat unpleasant to watch; it is just not very interesting. Whenever they are in the kitchen, Chocolat cooks, but there just isn’t enough time in the kitchen. The rest of it feels like the Weinstein boys went through their catalog of pictures and took a bit of this and a pinch of that on their way to baking their best picture nominee for this year.

So here’s the recipe. First, start with a huge helping of Like Water for Chocolate. From that wonderful film you can take the “food will awaken the senses and libido” theme, the strong and independent female protagonist and the romantic foreign location. But, take the language issue out of that equation, or that best picture nod is much harder to get. So, we’re in France, but everyone is speaking English with random accents. Johnny Depp, cutey that he is, all rumpled and stubbly, appears to be an Irish gypsy. Oh, and we’re in a strange fairy-tale France where the natives seem more like repressed Yankees than French people. No one has a car and no one seems to take pleasure in anything.

What on earth will the French make of this too sweet confection when it is dubbed and released at home? You have plenty of time to think about questions like this as you watch Chocolat because it takes very little energy to follow every “nuance” of what is happening on screen.

Then just throw in other themes and all the random talent you can. So, add Miramax regulars Judi Dench, Juliette Binoche and director Lasse Hallstrom to spice up the mix. Choose some easy-to-tackle issues. Wife beating is bad. Christianity focused on dietary restrictions is bad. Inclusive Christianity is good. Mean people are bad. A sense of romance and whimsy is good. Multi-culturalism is good.

I have no argument with any of the above, but when, as a picture unfolds, you can feel the producers checking things off their list, it does take the fun out of it.