Some cinematic writers and directors and writer-directors have the notion that all that is required to produce a dramatic conflict is to show a physical conflict. This might suffice sometimes, but, even then, the devotees of this expedient often do not know how to present the clash in a way other than we have already seen many times before. Or maybe they just don’t care enough to make the effort to present it otherwise.
The scene-concoctors are, of course, as familiar with the imitatively wrought patterns of movement as we are, which is why they find them so readily at hand, so easy to draw upon when something is needed to fill the time and move the plot "forward."
So, if there's a car chase, there is something very familiar about the car chase. Yes, we have seen these vehicles turn corners like this before.
If there are fisticuffs, there is something about the punches and counter-punches that we can say is not entirely foreign to memory.
If there is an axe sweeping toward the head of our prone protagonist, it is a good bet he will jerk aside just before the blade would have severed that head.
How wonderful to see the sudden surge of strength and mastery with which an utterly exhausted one, his arm and hand akimbo, but whom we do not want to die, somehow wins an arm wrestling match with a villain who is in the best possible physical position to plunge a knife into the heart of our beleaguered compatriot yet somehow cannot make it through that last inch or so. Still, were it not for the frayed electrical cord and the vat of water that the good guy can see but that the bad guy cannot, all might have been lost.
The bad news for TV show people who complain about how their short production schedules must usually preclude doing much better in most scenes than the most weakly imagined cinema is that there are shows like 24 and Lost now. (The people who do 24 have to answer questions like this: "But isn't the unpredictability of the show becoming all-too-predictable?" Yeah, it so boring when you know ahead of time, already, that you are not going to be bored to death. Next....)
For the sake of argument, let's say you don't have the resources and talent of the crews doing 24 and Lost. Still, how hard is it, really, to look at a scene you've plotted out, to look at the staging you have in mind, to look at your stack of 3x5 index cards of cookie-cutter directions you are about to give to your overly obliging actors and which you culled from the Standard-Issue Director's Kit of 3x5 Index Cards of Cookie-Cutter Directions for Overly Obliging Actors, cards bearing the same old stale directorial wisdom on them that all the other directors are giving to their actors...and to realize that what you are about to do is a "creative" crime for which you should be flayed alive? How hard is it to take a step back and say, "You know, if we do this the way it's been done umpteen trillion times before, it will look exactly the way it's looked umpteen trillion times before."