It turns out that conservatives’ direst fears about the new Little House on the Prairie remake — Ma is a sex worker! Pa is trans! — were overblown. Still, Netflix’s eight-episode production is strangely unreal, like a two-legged horse or a pitchfork with no tines. A sanded-down work of historical bowdlerization, the show reimagines Manifest Destiny as the westward spread of social justice. Worse, it’s boring. Watch if you must, but don’t expect any improvement on the Michael Landon original, to say nothing of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books.