In the past, I have sometimes said that, at the risk of oversimplification, there are three basic kinds of film: entertainment, propaganda, and art. Entertainment serves the selfish desires of the audience, and propaganda serves the selfish desires of the artist, but art, ideally, draws the artist and the audience out of themselves and into something other.
That may not be the best way of putting it — “selfish”, in particular, sounds a bit harsh — but I’ve never quite figured out a better but equally pithy way of phrasing it. In any case, the point here is that art, in its ideal form, is what happens when a filmmaker is intrigued by something and explores it, tries to see where it goes, and takes the audience along for the ride.
Most films are a mix of these things, of course, but some tilt in one direction more than the others. And sometimes, as we have seen with certain recent Christian films, audiences are actually entertained by propaganda; they want someone to preach at them, telling them what they already believe. And so the selfish desires of artist and audience alike are served by those films, and both sides are left unchallenged, which is the exact opposite of what art does within the definition above.