‘Shall We Dance?’ remake is anything but subtle

American films are unique.

That isn’t necessarily a compliment.

By American, of course, I mean Hollywood. And, OK, Hollywood does manufacture the occasional good drama. Tragedy, too. The same goes for suspense, comedy and don’t even get me started on action flicks.

But to Hollywood, subtlety is something that is tantamount to $10 million openings. In bigger-is-always- better L.A., subtlety is seen as something to avoid.

Which is what “Shall We Dance?” – the American remake of the 1996 Japanese film of the same name – does well. If a person were as obvious as this new “Shall We Dance?” then he or she would be the perfect interview subject for Katie Couric.

The spritely “Today” show host could begin with Richard Gere, who plays the bored wills-and-trust lawyer who, for 20 years has been arranging his clients’ affairs and is bored, bored, bored by it all. Then one night while riding home on Chicago’s El Train, he looks up into a window and sees … Jennifer Lopez.

Be still his Ben Affleck-stricken heart.

Intrigued by her sad expression, our hero seeks out his siren – only to find himself taking ballroom dancing lessons with a variety of stereotypes (the weight-challenged, the sexually compensatory, the talks-so-honest-

that-we-know-she’s- hiding-

something), still hoping to meet, and perhaps even dance with, Paulina (Lopez).

In the Japanese version, our protagonist gradually turns away from this alluring presence to actually embrace the dancing. And so does Gere’s character, making maybe three-quarters of the Hollywood version worth watching. But then the wife gets into the act.

In the American film, Oscar-winner Susan Sarandon plays a role that in the original was little more than a walk-on. The Japanese wife’s ultimate acceptance of her husband and his new-found passion is what propels that movie’s gently emotional arc.

Sarandon, though, is forced to react BIG, as her stature demands – did I mention that she won an Oscar? – and give one of film history’s great hissy fits. And from that moment, “Shall We Dance?” devolves into the kind of sappy romance that ruins virtually everything that has come before. Even worse, director Peter Chelsom includes, along with the occasional moment of real feeling, another in what has become a long line of seemingly obligatory gay jokes.

And the dancing? Even it is ordinary, shot in quick cuts to cover up each actors’ ineptness. Only Lopez, the former Fly Girl, gets to shake her booty.

That, however, would be subtle only in a drag-queen flick.

Perfect. Somebody call Katie Couric.