Message to aspiring screenwriters: You do not need to give your script a "message." Movies don't have to be learning experiences. It can work out that way in the end, but if you're trying to sell us medicine, the sugarcoating had better well be worth it.

Not to sound cutesy, but "Charlie Bartlett" isn't that sweet. This unwieldy mix of "Rushmore," "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" and the 1990 Christian Slater classic "Pump Up the Volume" has a lot of promise that it ultimately squanders.

For about an hour or so, I really enjoyed this flick. Granted, you have to get past the premise, wherein the title character (Anton Yelchin) rises to fame and popularity in his high school by acting as de facto psychiatrist and prescribing prescription drugs to the student body. To call this "irresponsible" is an understatement.

Yet the flick still works for a time. It's an unusual kind of comedy; it doesn't go for big laughs. It's genial rather than uproarious, pleasant rather than hilarious. I smiled far more than I laughed, and I think that's the flick's intention. There's a laid-back, understated air to the whole thing — it gets more juice from quiet observation and performance. I was reminded of director Bill Forsyth's sly, gentle comedies "Gregory's Girl" and "Local Hero." This helps the flick. Bartlett approaches his new "responsibilities" with quiet amusement, and the flick seems far less unsavory as a result.

This hour isn't perfect. I had some quibbles here and there, like how Charlie Bartlett can succeed academically without really spending any time in a classroom, or how the Connecticut of the flick seems suspiciously like the suburbs of Toronto, but if you move past stuff like that, you'll be fine.

There are so many pleasures to be found here, from the sly, knowing mother-and-son relationship Charlie and his mother (Hope Davis) share to Charlie's genuine and boundless optimism in the face of all opposition (most notably in his handling of a local bully, which starts out adversarial and slowly grows into something far more special).

If the flick had followed this pleasant, aimless path to the end, it could've been really special. And then, at the hour mark, it self-destructs.

Spectacularly.

The second we get a "Rules of Attraction"-esque suicide attempt, the flick falls apart. The movie becomes rushed, throwing in all sorts of tedious and predictable plot points; the sitcom elements (resolutions of all major issues, unrealistic character shifts) grow more pronounced; and worst of all, it goes all after-school special on us, turning into an indictment of medicated behavior/culture.

In its biggest offense, the last 20 minutes are pretty much deadly serious as we focus on some major and jarring insecurity on Charlie's part and a half-assed study of the horrors of alcoholism. It's heavy stuff, and the flick just cannot support that weight. It's just too unsubstantial to do so.