I'd like to go on record saying that there's plenty of entertainment out there that has little-or-no point to it, and it's perfectly fine. Not everything need be serious, or heavy, or even significant to be worthwhile. That being said, Uncanny Avengers Annual #1 is a complete waste of time. No spoilers below, because none of it matters.
It's an annual, which means it doesn't really have to fit into the narrative already in place, which is good. The narrative in place is so far off the map of the rest of the Marvel Universe that you could be hopelessly lost trying to connect it to a stand-alone comic. To that end, the writer Rick Remender, doesn't even try.
The story takes place on Mojoworld, where Mojo is trying to work for Mojoverse, Inc. A handful of bureaucrats do that thing where they make unhelpful, pandering suggestions to change Mojo's programming. Mojo points out that his latest show was a flop because he made the changes they've requested. None of them care. (Coincidentally, neither do I.)
He starts his pitch with the current roster of Uncanny Avengers, who, for the sake of parody, are exaggerated caricatures of themselves. Steve Rogers is a stick in the mud. Wolverine and Thor are drinking heavily. Scarlet Witch and Wonder Man are all about their romantic tension. Then Doctor Strange shows up.
We skip to Mojo's pitch re-worked to include the board's asinine suggestions, putting our Avengers in High School, which is about as entertaining as it sounds— which is to say, not at all.
More things happen. The Avengers break out of their simulated programming and get themselves teleported back home. It's unclear how much of this is supposed to be a hypothetical pitch, and how much is actually happening. None of it matters. At all.
The comic actually manages to be annoying in its pointlessness. The board leans on the fourth wall, pointing out that the story goes nowhere, does nothing, and is sloppy and derivative. Pointing this out doesn't actually make it any less sloppy and derivative. Hanging a lampshade on a piss-poor lamp does nothing to change the fact that it's a piss-poor lamp.
Did someone anger Rick Remender? Was he forced to write this? There's belligerent sarcasm stamped onto every page. It's angry. Phoned in. Tongue-in-cheek while flipping someone off, probably an editor.
It's certainly pretty enough to look at. Paul Renaud's work is consistently good. Arthur Adams' cover is fittingly gratuitous. I mean, Satana's standing there in the nude for some reason. Is it because she's a succubus? I don't know.
I'm a big fan of the Uncanny Avengers. Huge fan. But this is a joyless piece of work, right here. I can't recommend it unless you like pointless stories that go nowhere, do nothing, and make fun of their own heroes by misrepresenting them. If that's your jam, then you'll dig it. Otherwise, give it a strong pass.