Once upon a time, Warner Bros. was thinking about making a sexy, violent, nihilistic, supernatural Western called “Jonah Hex.”

While the film was in the planning stages, one executive turned to another and said, “Remember that sexy, violent, supernatural Western we were thinking of making called ‘Jonah Hex’? Well, we haven’t found anyone to direct it yet. Do you have any suggestions?”

The other person got a faraway look in his eyes, but that look quickly transformed into one that radiated utter conviction.

He stabbed a button on his intercom and yelled, “Get me the guy who directed ‘Horton Hears a Who!’ ”

This conversation probably never happened, but the movie did and so did that hire.

“Jonah Hex,” directed by Jimmy Hayward of “Horton Hears a Who!” fame, opened Friday.

Few people reading this have ever made or will ever make a film of any kind, but who among us thinks hiring Jimmy Hayward for this project made any sense?

It’s another example of the nigh-on-impenetrable logic of Hollywood.

I have theories about Hayward – that he was a guy with at least one hit under his belt, a desire not to make too many more children’s films, a willingness to work cheap and a high tolerance for studio meddling.

But what do I know?

There’s a lot about this film that makes no sense to me.

“Jonah Hex,” which I have neither viewed nor read any reviews of as I write this, is based on a DC comic.

Hollywood loves comic books these days, but the original “Jonah Hex” – from what I understand – is a fairly straightforward Western.

Hollywood hates Westerns these days.

Pre-release coverage of the film suggests that the big-screen version has been augmented with zombies and other occult elements. Hex’s metaphorical soul debt has been made more literal and the gunslinger has been given the sort of anachronistic espionage gadgets that made the big-screen version of “Wild Wild West” such a wild, wild hit.

Megan Fox was added to the mix as a hooker with a heart of … oh, I don’t know. Wood? Cheese? Straw?

The best thing one can say about that romantic pairing is that it accurately reflects age gaps common to the prostitution business.

It would seem that this "Jonah Hex" flick is loosely based on its source material in the same sense that Sansabelt slacks are loosely based on britches.

Where strategies for cinematic success are concerned, this is akin to a chef announcing to his kitchen staff: “Sure, lobster tail is great. But not everyone likes lobster tail. How about we drench it in chocolate sauce and rainbow jimmies?”

The film version of “Jonah Hex” is likely to alienate fans of the comic and lure … whom, exactly?

The shoot was purportedly plagued with problems, not the least of which was star Josh Brolin telling MTV: “When I first read it I thought, ‘Oh my God, it’s awful.’ And then I had a moment a week later and I thought … maybe the thing to do is to do the most awful movie I can find.”

“Jonah Hex” may turn out to be great, but it won’t be great because making it great was one of the studio’s top priorities. If it’s great, it’s great by accident.

Even if it’s watchable, it won’t be a hit.

I don’t think I’m going out on a limb when I make that prediction. Hollywood’s been having a bad summer.

All its blockbusters aren’t busting nearly enough blocks.

Also, it goes without saying, they’re getting terrible reviews.

Bad economic times are supposed to bring people back to movie theaters, but it hasn’t worked that way this time around. Why?

Could it be that the movies stink like coyote lure?

The Hollywood establishment has been notoriously reluctant to blame bad movies for low box office figures, but it may finally be time for the studios to suck it up.

Last year, the studios – encouraged by some Web punditry and strong box office for the critically reviled “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen” – decided that critics were to blame for bombs.

Pre-release screenings, aka courtesy screenings, were canceled left and right on the theory that critics needed to be prevented whenever possible from doing harm to worthy movies by reviewing them.

Many bloggers agreed with this view.

“Film critics hate you,” Drew McWeeny wrote on Hitflix.com last August. “Whoever you are, sitting wherever you’re sitting, reading these words ... chances are, film critics hate

you right now.”

I was one of those critics who hated the “Transformers” sequel, but it wasn’t because I hated “Transformers” fans.

It was because watching “Transformers 2” was like wearing a cement mixer for a hat.

It is the end result of throwing millions of dollars into an unfathomable well of utter incompetence.

I liked the first “Transformers” movie. I watched the second thinking that “Transformers” fans deserved better.

Folks, film critics don’t hate you. Studios hate you.

They don’t think you deserve good movies.

When studios cancel screenings or ban critics from screenings, they aren’t doing it to protect good films so that they can arrive unscathed in Anytown, USA, where the moviegoers much beloved by Tinsletown execs can see them without having their innocence sullied by snobbery.

They are doing it to hide bad films from moviegoers until those moviegoers have already plunked down their $8 apiece.

Most critics aren’t snooty dandies.

They’re consumer advocates.