In the opening moments of the desperately hip "Annie" redo, a buoyant little redhead excitedly prattles off what little there is to know President William Henry Harrison in front of her class and caps the presentation off with a little tap dance. The girl’s name, of course, is Annie … and her audience hates her, heckling and hissing the plucky little girl off the screen.

Fans of the beloved childhood musical or the 1982 John Huston movie probably won’t be particularly pleased with this sour start, one seemingly embarrassed by its source material. As admittedly not much of a fan of its hyper-aggressively smiley and saccharine origins, seeing this new take eagerly jettison its roots right off the bat didn’t exactly have me reaching for the Kleenex.

However, before the movie’s going to congratulate itself for nixing its namesake, it ought to replace or reinvent it with something at least a little bit better. And unfortunately, this new "Annie" – encased in layers of fake sugary pop-song gloss and forced modernity – isn’t all that much of an improvement. After all, if it thinks the original show is a groan-worthy period piece, wait until it sees how poorly time has already treated its "YOLO" reference.

Taking the rambunctious redhead’s place as America’s favorite foster kid is Quvenzhane Wallis, finally returning to the screen after her Oscar-nominated breakout in 2012’s "Beasts of the Southern Wild." As with the original, she and her friends are stuck under the not-so-watchful eye of her crazed alcoholic caretaker Miss Hannigan (Cameron Diaz). Even Hannigan’s screaming about cleaning and Hootie and the Blowfish can’t dim Annie’s relentless optimism, certain that her family is out there waiting for her. She even stops by their last known whereabouts – a quaint little Italian restaurant – every Friday night, always leaving with only some cannoli for her troubles.

Things take a turn, however, when she literally runs into Will Stacks (Jamie Foxx), a cell phone business magnate giving politics an ill-advised go. According to his advisors (Bobby Cannavale and the indispensable Rose Byrne), he’s struggling in polls due to his cold business demeanor and failure to connect to his constituents. Considering he takes swigs of Purell after any human interaction, it’s hard to believe he’d come off that way. 

After their run-in goes viral – social media! It’s hip! – and bumps Stacks up some points in the poll, he reluctantly decides to briefly adopt Annie. But of course, what starts as a cheap political stunt turns into something more as the radiantly self-determined orphan starts to melt her adoptive father’s frosty heart.

It makes sense that a musical would gather most of its personality from its songs, which in that case it shouldn’t surprise that "Annie" feels distinctly like a product, a corporately calculated charm offensive.

As retooled and retuned by Greg Kurstin and Top 40 star Sia, the "Annie" songbook sounds loaded with disposable studio-produced pop songs. Most of the new tunes, like the painfully generic "Who Am I?" and yet another NYC anthem – it's a been a whole month since the last one – "The City's Yours," are inane.

Even classics like "Tomorrow" and "It’s the Hard Knock Life" just sound like carefully packaged radio songs, slicked up to the point of sliding right out of mind. In the case of the latter, it doesn't help the song land that Miss Hannigan's apartment is so brightly lit and colorful that it could be confused for a Disney Channel set. The arrangements incorporate stomping and interactions with the scenery as an attempt at something tangible, but as made quickly apparent in a loud yapping opening classroom round, it just comes off as extra noise. 

There are certainly worse things in the world than a musical spouting the gospel of good-heartedness. There’s sweetness, however, and there’s treacle, and "Annie" – in the past and in this current form – is simply too eagerly cavity-inducing, pulling out all the easy winners: candy and puppies and smile-filled montages and multiple reluctant love stories, all montaged together into one big swirling vortex of diabetes-inducing sugary cuteness. That’s especially the case in the pleasant but prolonged middle act, which is just a montage after a montage of people having fun and being cute.

I'd be lying if I said that there was some charm to be found during "Annie," but the credit's mostly due to the genuinely sweet and fun cast. It's been a while since audiences have seen Wallis on screen, but she's still a bright bulb on screen. Annie is a role that can turn young actresses into Welch's juice kids, but she's the right amount of zeal and self-determination. Foxx pulls off the comedy and drama effortlessly – even when he's stuck spitting up mashed potatoes – and Byrne is a scene stealer, bringing some joy and life to the fairly typical uptight assistant role. The only major blight is Diaz, who just strains for every gag and laugh. It's a struggle to watch – and, in the case of her number "Little Girls," hear. 

The cast – and director Will Gluck, who at least has a light touch for comedy even he comes up short on one's expectations for a musical – does a far better job of breathing some life into "Annie" than its script, the forced merriment only to be outdone by the forced modernity. One character yells, "Boom goes the dynamite." Friendster is seemingly the only social media that doesn't get a shout-out, and any musical that dedicates screen time to playing the now wrinkled "It's Peanut Butter Jelly Time!" meme song needs to take a long look in the mirror and think about its life choices. 

If another famous classic musical prescribed a spoonful of sugar, the 2014 edition of "Annie" orders up Splenda – artificial lab work disguised as the actual thing. And while the fake sweetener may occasionally work fine enough thanks to the ingredients around it, amping the dosage up to a shovelful won't make it any more real.