Look no further than the torturous new movie “Interceptor” to understand why users are abandoning Netflix in droves.

Ten dollars, they realize, can buy them the reliable joy of a cold beer, or two $5 foot-longs from Subway, instead of a subscription to a streaming service that’s turned into an ongoing competition to make the world’s worst movie. 

The latest contender for the title is “Interceptor,” a “JAG” episode from hell that dares to be both about the imminent annihilation of every American city by 16 stolen Russian nuclear missiles … and #MeToo. What a mix!

“Fast & Furious” franchise actress Elsa Pataky plays JJ Collins, an Army captain who’s sent to serve at her former base — a ship off Alaska that’s meant to intercept missiles headed for the US — on the same day some rogues steal a bunch of the deadly weapons.

We are told it takes just 24 minutes for a launched nuke to destroy its target in the US. Besting that impressive time, “Interceptor” destroyed my brain in only three.

The threat of disaster comes, not from war-hungry Russians, but treasonous American Army traitors. Says one: “I took an oath to the old America — not this one.” Er, what?

#MeToo comes into play because a few years earlier, JJ was harassed by a three-star general, and when she tried to expose him she became a pariah despite her superhero-like abilities. The movie appears to say that if the #MeToo movement succeeds, Tampa will be saved from nuclear ruin.

Say you did not click “play” in hopes of a gripping plot, fleshed-out characters and a decent twist. Fine. But you’ll also be disappointed with the action sequences.

Pataky’s character engages in yawn-worthy hand-to-hand combat with the intruders (Luke Bracey’s performance as the main baddie gets four snores), if not believable exchanges of dialogue, as she tries to protect the interceptors from being controlled. A man sizzling in sulfuric acid and a guy’s head being chopped off by a chain straddle the boring line between reasonable quality and campy badness. 

“Interceptor” also looks horrendous.

For much of the movie JJ is locked away in a control room by herself, and an emergency video feed airs her travails all over the world. This is when we most keenly feel Netflix’s quality-be-damned, “We are the Borg. Resistance is futile” mentality. Tossing one person in a room for a while saves money (this thing cost a few pennies and pocket lint) and the natural isolation of the story allowed the studio to keep churning out duds during the pandemic. This is director Matthew Reilly’s first film. If I were him, I’d consider leaving it off my CV.

Like our high New York taxes not fixing enough potholes, crummy movies like this one make us question exactly what our subscription dollars are being used for. Was it for a new gym at Netflix? Please don’t tell me you blew it all on “The Power of the Dog.”