Cute is fine. Knowing you're cute, however, is utterly repulsive.
What irks me most about this chirpy, loveable Hawn-spawn is that she's occasionally in a passable movie and spoils it with her mere presence. I was watching the otherwise average Kate & Leopold, which is fairly snappy and amusing as these saccharine sorts of things go, and I was wondering why anyone thought it would be a good idea to make her the love interest of Hugh Jackman's character, who must be half her age; a fact apparent because when the lighting wasn't soft enough she looked like a shrinkwrapped sac of runny wax.
Sure enough, the movie featured scenes with Ryan doing her usual spastic, squeaky little dances, punching the air when overcome by whatever emotion was supposed to be filling her scarecrow-blonde, crypto-crone cranium.
To make matters worse, we're supposed to believe that an egalitarian, technologically innovative, well-mannered 19th century duke can succumb to Meg Ryan just behaving like her normal, awful self.
You're past your sell-by date, you ghastly little pixie. You're so insipid that you're poison to the genre of romantic bloody comedy. Shut up, fuck off, enjoy your money and leave cinema alone.