by Jason Ankeny Richie Rich falls victim to the excess that undermines so many of Alan Silvestri's scores, and while overindulgence is certainly apropos here. This is, after all, the comic-book tale of the world's wealthiest and most spoiled little boy. It doesn't make the listening experience any more appealing. Silvestri mistakes childishness for childlike energy. His themes are brash and annoying, favoring repetition and bombast over creativity and charm. To be fair, Silvestri isn't given much to work with here -- the film is as painfully unfunny as your average Holocaust documentary -- but Richie Rich's complete absence of heart and humor nevertheless rests on his shoulders.