Tom Hanks and Robin Wright are digitally aged in this bombshell

Robert Zemeckis' film “Here” is an example of how to turn a touching idea into an extremely annoying film.

Based on the graphic novel of the same name, the “Forrest Gump” director's lofty concept involves a single camera remaining in one place throughout the film as the action jumps through time.

The audience witnesses decades of scenes that take place in the living room of an old house.

A ubiquitous spy camera monitors births, deaths, weddings, funerals, Thanksgivings, Christmases, divorces and reunions within your home.

Isn't that nice?

As sweet as Zemeckis invented it. “Here” is like “Leave It to Beaver” with CGI, alcoholism, COVID and an F-bomb. Even in the darkest moments of the nostalgic film, it is as healing as heaven and hell. The fact that Tom Hanks stars in it just piles on the powdered sugar.

But it is not the story of just one family or even a millennium. The ambitious film moves erratically through the timeline to make it clear that the house you bought has a long-forgotten history.

Had “Here” been written more thoughtfully and not played by slot machines, this conclusion could have been profound. Instead, it's painfully obvious.

The “Back to the Future” director reunites with Hanks, who plays Richard Young, the closest thing without drywall to the main character in “Here.” He begins as an old man and enters a sunlit, modern living room, only to have the shot cut to the time of the dinosaurs.

Zemeckis rushes back… to the Cretaceous period! The good old days when there were apparently volcanoes in Pennsylvania. The extinction of the dinosaurs was then followed by the Ice Age, which made a huge leap to the first human inhabitants around 11,500 years ago.

If you think this is overwhelming, wait until the PA house is built. It's a highway cartoon caricature pseudo story.

Benjamin Franklin's illegitimate, loyalist son lives in a huge mansion across the street, also populated by slaves, and the founding father occasionally visits.

“No one will remember the great Benjamin Franklin!” cries his son.

There's more. In the 1920s we see the invention of the La-Z-Boy. “The Relax-Y-Boy!” Lee Beekman (David Fynn) proclaims in a wincing tone while surrounded by decadent flapper decor. Not to mention, the chair was actually made in Michigan.

In flashbacks to the early 1900s, John Harter (Gwilym Lee) is an airplane enthusiast, a hobby his suffragette friend (Michelle Dockery) considers extremely dangerous. These stiff sections, some of the worst, suggest that the smile has not yet been discovered.

The story's main family, the Youngs, arrive in the 1940s. Husband Al (Paul Bettany), who fought in World War II, settles down with his wife Rose (Kelly Reilly). Their clan has remained in the area for over 70 years.

Richard is born (many child actors play him on various stages), followed by Elizabeth (Lauren McQueen) and Jimmy (Harry Marcus).

Angry Al is one of the “best years of our lives” who never comfortably returned to civilian life after serving overseas. He drinks whiskey like Poland Spring and asks every year for a raise that never comes.

Bettany moves closer to the camera to deliver growling, drunken monologues, raising a question often raised by “Here”: Which person lingers in the archway between the living room and the kitchen?

Hanks is digitally de-aged to play Richard in his teenage years. The trick, practiced to death in The Irishman and Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, still looks appropriate.

But the actor's rigid movements, Mr. Rogers' demeanor and striking 68-year-old voice don't fit a teenager. So the effect is creepy and strange. Another criticism is that Hanks is too friendly a guy to make Richard, an artist who sacrifices his dream for stability, remotely interesting.

Also at work is Robin Wright (Jenny from “Gump”), who fares better as Richard’s girlfriend Margaret.

After she gets knocked up, they have a shotgun wedding, and then “Here” gives way to the depressing realities of life: strokes, dementia, marital strife. There are several chats on the topic of capital gains tax.

Any depiction of the family beyond the banal Youngs is just terrible. The 20th century pilot and the 1920s inventor La-Z-Boy are insufferable “ragtime” style skits.

And to protect themselves, Zemeckis and his co-writer Eric Roth force unconvincing variety.

In the future, when the Youngs are gone, we see glimpses of a 2010s black family. The longest part shows the father telling his son how to talk to the police after the murder of George Floyd. Almost nothing else is learned about her except that her housekeeper has COVID.

Hundreds of years ago, an indigenous couple flirted without saying a word, had a child and died on the 2,000 square meter meadow where the Young House will later stand.

These ill-conceived deviations seem like nervous notes from studio executives.

I'll give it to Zemeckis and editor Jesse Goldsmith: they make one stationary shot per scene remarkably dynamic and visually appealing. Filmmaking is anything but boring.

What's also impressive is that it wasn't until days later that I realized that the cast included a whopping 70 actors. It's so seamless and intimate that it has the feel of a small ensemble drama.

But unfortunately it's disgusting. One might think that the aim of the fly-on-the-wall format is to present a real depiction of family life.

Instead, it's like watching a crappy stage play with actors turned up to 200% giving soapy speeches in front of a wall.