More than a few award-season commentators (upscale thoughtfuls, sensitive to social currents) have repeated the “Academy racism robbed Straight Outta Compton of a Best Picture nomination” narrative today. Which is supported, some feel, by the fact that four white people — Jonathan Herman, Andrea Berloff, S. Leigh Savidge, Alan Wenkus — co-wrote the original script, which was the only Compton element that landed an Oscar nomination (i.e., Best Original Screenplay). Is there anyone bold and free-thinking enough to just blurt the truth, which is that Straight Outta Compton just doesn’t have that old Oscar schwingding thing? It’s compelling, accessible, well written, convincingly acted, and it doesn’t feel tricky or shifty. I believed it, went with it, respected it, came out tweeting its praises. But it’s just the N.W.A. story — this happened, that happened, this happened, etc. The p.c. kneejerkers would rather shoot themselves than acknowledge the simple fact that Straight Outta Compton is very good but nothing close to most learned people’s idea of great or transformative or extra-special cinema. It doesn’t wallop or shatter you — it just deals straight, credible cards about the emergence and the power and the cultural changeover of hip-hop in late ’80s and ’90s. I don’t see what’s so bad about that. Audiences and industry types seem to be equally content and pleased with what Compton is, and the fact that it earned $200 million. Why does it have to be a big Oscar thing?