There are some raw, uncomfortable emotions bubbling deep under the surface of “Hanging Up,” but Keaton is loath to deal with them. Like people who compulsively giggle whenever they tell you bad news, the movie runs for cover in lame, comic shtik. Why are we watching cute-dog jokes? Why are the actors trying to out-cute the dog? And why does this L.A.-based movie look as if it had been shot through a thick London fog? More to the point, why tell this story if you’re afraid to tell it like it is? This is sugar-coating that melts in your hand, not your heart.
D.A.
