When Tina Fey’s film “Mean Girls” came out in 2004, the comedy was lauded as a silly, satirical excoriation of modern high school life and its cliques, cafeteria antics and materialism. “Mean Girls” was a “Clueless” for the millennial age. And it was so fetch.

Fast-forward to 2018. “Mean Girls” is about to begin a new life as a Broadway musical in March. But some Broadway watchers believe the subject matter is too mean for these kinder, gentler times.

“It just might not be the moment for ‘Mean Girls,’ ” one Broadway insider told me on the condition of anonymity. “It might feel stale and tone-deaf to the critics. And while this is something that could be critic-proof, maybe not.”

The fear of offending audiences isn’t limited to musicals about bratty teens. In this oversensitive era, TV shows, Oscar-worthy movies and pop music are all under pressure to be as nice as Betty Crocker. For millennia the best art has offended, tantalized, frightened, riled up and, of course, been life-affirming. But today the American public, looking more than ever like Soviet Russia, has just one rule for entertainers: Don’t rock the boat.

During last Sunday’s Super Bowl halftime show, singer Justin Timberlake barely rocked his hips. The former boybander is responsible for the most famous sex stunt in the history of the event — Janet Jackson’s 2004 nipple-baring “wardrobe malfunction.” It was odd, then, to see him at his comeback gig treating his female backup dancers like moldy laundry, while delivering a musical performance so safe, a cruise line wouldn’t book it.

Timberlake’s timidity was obvious. But can you blame him? In the wake of the #MeToo movement, widespread freakouts over football players kneeling in protest during the national anthem and President Trump’s daily deluge of tweets, the singer surely wished to stay above the fray. Trouble is, he was so far above it, he found himself in the cloudy land of the Care Bears.

Hollywood, too, is all sugar, zero spice and everything nice.

A month ago, the film “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri” seemed like the flick to beat. The drama took home four Golden Globe awards, usually an accurate predictor of Oscar fortunes, including two for Martin McDonagh’s writing and directing. Then the Culture KGB said “Nyet!” Social media users began calling the film by noted satirist McDonagh “racist,” “problematic” and “shallow.” This because Sam Rockwell’s character is a bigoted caricature of a cop who finds redemption in the end. When Oscar nominations were announced in January, McDonagh was conspicuously left off the directing roster, and the movie’s chances in March now seem downright minuscule.

Of course, it’s not like anyone’s talking about the Oscars right now. Usually the Academy Awards are kept fresh in everyone’s minds during the entire month of February as movie studios engage in highly visible awards campaigns — blasting out splashy ads and booking stars on talk shows to promote their nominated films.

This long, solemn wake is an over-reaction that’s led to boredom and disinterest.

This year, however, A-list nominees like Denzel Washington, Meryl Streep and Allison Janney have been keeping a low profile, likely afraid journalists will want to chat less about their projects and more about Harvey Weinstein, Woody Allen and Kevin Spacey. Gaudy publicity stunts also could be seen as out-of-touch during a time when women have committed to wearing black dresses on the red carpet in solidarity with sexual harassment and abuse sufferers.

This long, solemn wake is an over-reaction that’s led to boredom and disinterest from the general public who actually pay to watch movies. People still love sex, sizzle and controversy — but the entertainment industry is too afraid to serve it up right now.

It’s hard to believe, but 60 years ago, entertainers had more guts. If you want proof, tune in to “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” on Amazon, an excellent new show about a fictional woman named Midge — clearly based on Joan Rivers — who starts a risky career as a stand-up comedienne in Greenwich Village in 1958. On stage, Midge makes jokes about her sex life, her Jewish upbringing and even rips off her top, exposing her breasts. As the crowd laps up the routine, the police arrest Midge for breaking obscenity laws.

That kind of courage, that willingness to shock and offend, is what made Rivers so exciting to watch. It’s what makes great comedy. But today’s comics are afraid to go too far, out of fear of the woke police.

Thankfully, Dave Chappelle is one comedian who couldn’t care less about our new puritanical age, probably because he abandoned his career in 2006 and now that he’s back, he has nothing to lose. In his recent, unfiltered Netflix special, Chappelle bravely tackled Hollywood’s sexual harassment crisis. His monologue is dangerous, daring, honest — and smashing entertainment.

On fellow comedian Louis CK, who’s admitted to pleasuring himself in front of unwilling women both in person and on the phone, Chappelle says,“One of these ladies was like, ‘Louis CK was masturbating while I was on the phone with him!’ B–ch, you don’t know how to hang up a phone? How are you going to survive in show business if this is an actual obstacle to your dreams?”

It’s funny — and a fair question.

Here’s another: How is show business going to survive if it suddenly censors itself?