The streak had to end some time. After a couple very lovely years of riveting original programming and screw-the-status-quo industry-shaking moves, Netflix has finally gone and done the most basic thing it could possibly do: It's recruited Adam Sandler to produce and star in four new original movies. Cue the sound of the last balloon at the party sadly squeaking out its final breath.

Look, there's nothing particularly awful or unlikeable about Adam Sandler or his movies. The Wedding Singer was a riot. People still quote Happy Gilmore. But those movies are more than 15 years old and Sandler's recent output doesn't offer much promise. (Remember That's My Boy? No? You're not alone there.) He still could have some great flicks in him if he steers toward Funny People and not Jack and Jill, but it's not guaranteed. Moreover, it's hard not to think that there aren't dozens of fresher—or at least edgier—producers/actors/directors out there who could do something a lot more interesting with four original features on Netflix.

And producing interesting content is what has set Netflix apart. Orange Is the New Black, with its diverse cast and whip-smart perspective, came out of the gate and surprised everyone. The streaming service also scored a serious coup in snagging the David Fincher-produced House of Cards. Now, after racking up a lot of cred, they seem to have looked around and thought, "Hey, let's just scrap that and give a four-picture deal to the most mediocre dude we can think of!" C'mon, guys, you were on a roll. You have great original programming. You're making Marvel TV shows. You just snagged the Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon sequel and gave a "haters gonna hate" shrug! Why this now?

Welcome to Netflix, we have dozens of the movies you watch when literally nothing else is on and you're caught up on OITNB*, and soon we'll have four more.*Of course, Sandler will likely appeal to a lot of people, but Netflix is also where those same people find cool genre pictures and indie gems that never came to a theater near them. So why not give that deal to a director like Spike Jonze (Her) or partner with Blumhouse Productions (the Purge movies) for a horror or thriller anthology? Or, why not keep it in the tech family and ask Megan Ellison (producer of American Hustle and most of the other Oscar-buzzed movies of the last few years) if there are any passion projects she hasn't gotten off the ground yet? Or, if you really wanted populist comedy from a Saturday Night Live veteran, maybe Tina Fey could've fit the bill?

Sure, maybe all of those people are too busy, not in possession of the right skillset, or just not as marketable as a guy like Adam Sandler. Sure. And, hey, maybe the freedom Netflix offers means that the comedian will use this opportunity to produce movies like Spanglish that have at least a little more heart. But when Sandler's statement about the deal is, "when these fine people came to me with an offer to make four movies for them, I immediately said yes for one reason and one reason only ... Netflix rhymes with Wet Chicks," it doesn't inspire confidence that the Razzie record-setter is going for prestige projects. Welcome to Netflix, we have dozens of the movies you watch when literally nothing else is on and you're caught up on OITNB, and soon we'll have four more.

And that's the bottom line. Adam Sandler is now making movies for Netflix. Hey, maybe one will star Drew Barrymore—that could be cool. But really, this feels like the free U2 album on iTunes you didn't ask for. One day these movies are going to show up in your queue and the only thing you'll be curious about is how to skip past them to find the thing you actually wanted.