America loves little boys. Remember when everyone creamed their pants over that Billy Elliot movie? "He wants to be a dancer! Weee!"

With that rule, August Rush (by Disco Pigs director Kirsten Sheridan) should do really well in theaters. But no one is going to see it. Robin Williams is in it. And nobody feels strongly enough about the gorgeous and not-at-all-offensive Keri Russell or her costars Terrence Howard and Jonathan Rhys Meyers to go see a movie based on their involvement alone.

That's sad. Because despite the fact that the plot is goofy and rife with romantic improbabilities, and despite the fact that the script is loaded with cheesy moments like, "I believe in music the way some people believe in fairy tales," August Rush is actually a charming little film about a musical prodigy who ends up performing with the New York Philharmonic in order to find the mom and dad who don't even know he exists.

See, Mom's a touring cellist and she went slumming one night with the frontman of a rock 'n' roll band. Magic happened, then mistakes happened, and then some people told some lies. So the adorable August Rush (yep, that's really the kid's name) bounces from the orphanage to Robin Williams to the New York Philharmonic, and he makes music only because he firmly believes his parents will hear it and know he's out there.

It sounds bad, right? I know. And I'm just making it sound worse. But the parts in the film where it shows August Rush composing and hearing music in everything he sees—well, those are actually pretty cool. Because music itself is pretty cool. It's such a shame that this movie about music is 100 percent uncool.