Few movies are as conceptually tedious as Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, which transports J.K. Rowling’s fascist-wizards versus liberal-wizards-and-muggles conflict to 1920s New York — or a stagy, computer-generated simulation thereof. This time the script is by Dame J.K. herself, and from the outset — before we’ve even gotten to know the characters or the stakes — it’s hectic, cluttered, and ineptly staged. The Dickensian simplicity of the Harry Potter films has been replaced by a lot of desperate mugging. Part of the problem is that Rowling and her studio are not so much telling a story as erecting another “tentpole,” the Hollywood name for a “franchise” that becomes a virus — but is nonetheless regarded as a remedy for red ink. I only wish there were a vaccine.