Annie

The sun comes out, again, for little Annie in the new film version of the Broadway hit. This time around, though, it doesn't shine on the Great Depression-era New York, but its contemporary Great Recession-era reflection. Nor is Annie (save for a meta-moment at the film's opening) the little red-headed tot made famous in Harold Gray's comic strip, which inspired the hit Broadway musical and its ill-fated (by critical standards) 1982 film version (unlikely directed by John Huston). Instead she's spunky Quvenzhan� Wallis, a bundle of self-motivated charm, who would likely be the kind of individual TLC would build a reality series around. Nothing gets her down, even being stuck in an unnecessary remake.

That said, Wallis has more than enough charm to carry what is a comedy film with some thrown-in musical numbers. The songs seem so much like an after-thought that you wonder why director/co-writer Will Gluck didn't excise them altogether. Instead some of the Charles Strouse/Martin Charnin score get popped and autotuned into make them more appealing to contemporary audiences, while some newer ones are awkwardly shoehorned in. The musical's period-sounding songs are either cut or woefully reworked. "Easy Street," for instance, is homogenized into a bizarre, contemporary tango. That number comes to mind because it is particularly egregious - the sight of Bobby Cannavale and Cameron Diaz cavorting about in a nightclub is something that would have been best left for a blooper reel.

Diaz's Miss Hannigan especially is given the bum's rap in this re-imaging. Rethought as a foster care mom that cares only about what she can get from the government to support her charges, she's an aging, alcoholic ex-rock star who takes her bitterness out on her charges. (She was canned from C+C Music Factory and Hootie and the Blowfish.) Diaz plays her with a tacky abandon, sometimes hitting the mark, but more often not; though it's not entirely her fault - look what she has to work with?

On stage "Annie" reflects its comic strip roots; in this film that reference point has been excised altogether. That may be the point, but who really wants to see an Annie morphed from one of Will Smith's kids? (Smith is one of the producers.) The new deal this Annie gets for Christmas is likely a platinum card and a spending spree on Fifth Avenue. New York often looks spectacular, especially from the windows of a downtown penthouse with the city spread out below it.

The musical's original message - that liberal politics will create a pluralistic society - turns into a story of how a spunky tot touches the heart of a cold-hearted entrepreneur and would-be politician (Jamie Foxx). It's as if Mitt Romney were to sing "If I Only Had a Heart." Foxx plays his character - who has made his billions from telecommunications - with an equal mix of arrogance and befuddlement. Emotions, the point is, are something new to him, and he bonds with Annie as if she were a new pet; for her part, Annie appears to be equally self-serving, playing her precociousness for all its social media worth.

That Wallis nearly carries the film is credit to her enormous appeal and talent. She's spontaneous, funny and engaging, and sings well. She nearly single-handedly saves this ill-conceived and emotionally hollow remake that retrofits this vehicle for our consumer-obsessed times. Sony may be taking a huge hit with the cancelled Christmas release of "The Interview;" this, though, is their stealth bomb of the holiday season.