Take Charles Dickens, slice off his creativity, simmer down his imagination, and you get “August Rush.” An urban fantasy that begins with a promising nod to “Oliver Twist,” the film sputters to a halt with a script as unbearable as Ebenezer Scrooge. Director Kirsten Sheridan poorly attempts to mix realism and fable, and brings to the screen a sappy story that relies too heavily on the viewer to piece everything together.

“August Rush” brings together two charming romantics for a one night stand—Layla (Keri Russell), a budding cellist, and Louis (Jonathan Rhys Meyers), an Irish rocker. Layla’s overprotective father cuts short his daughter’s relationship and then tells her that her son, Rush, died at birth. That turns out to be a lie; Rush survives and is secretly given up to the state.

Ten years later, after her father reveals the truth, Layla heads out to find Rush while Louis inexplicably heads back to New York to find Layla. Meanwhile, Rush (Freddie Highmore) hears music in the air and in his heart, and the sounds fill him with hope that his parents are still alive. By realizing his musical potential, Rush hopes to reunite with his family.

Rush’s talents are first discovered by Wizard, a modern day Fagin, played by Robin Williams. Instead of pick-pocketing, Wizard supervises a raggedy bunch of street musicians. While Williams would have excelled at the role of a freelance artiste who teaches Rush how to play the guitar, the direction turns him into a psychotic, exploitive, and morally ambiguous child abuser. Wizard’s poorly conceived role as the villain ultimately slows the film, detracting from its simple magic.

On a positive note, the film’s well shot. In particular, bright colors create a sense of easy-going warmth in places where the film’s happiest, music-related moments occur. The white light from a window in a Harlem church blissfully silhouettes the scene where Hope, a sassy young girl, lends her angelic voice to Rush’s musical compositions.

Hans Zimmer protégé Mark Mancina carefully scores the film, and he does an excellent job of capturing Rush’s internal musical monologue. Rush processes his emotions and his surroundings into dreamy harmony: it’s possible to feel the music turn everyday noises into a symphony.

The film’s lack of dialogue forces the audience to focus on Rush, Layla, and Louis’ emotions. Highmore speaks with the eerie directness and innocence of a five-year-old, which stresses his captivation with the world around him. Meyers’ brevity and brooding portrayal underscores his yearning for Layla.

Besides Sheridan’s sappy direction, several improbable details ruin the movie. Over the course of time, Louis becomes a suit-wearing exec and starts to date a girl. But then suddenly, without explanation, he moves back to New York, gets his band together, and sets out to find Layla. Unbelievably, Rush absorbs music by osmosis. There isn’t a scene where it takes practice and determination to learn composition, guitar, piano, or organ.

When Rush’s fellow street musician yells “Run, August, Run,” you might be best served to take his advice and head out off the theater.