The Book of Henry is such a mushy, misguided disaster that even its irrelevant subplots are inexplicable, the baffling wrong-headedness permeating every frame. Directed with Hallmark-movie superficiality by Colin Trevorrow (Jurassic World) from a phony-sweet screenplay by novelist Gregg Hurwitz, it’s about precocious 11-year-old Henry (Jaeden Lieberher), the sort of quirky movie kid who does the family’s finances while his mother (Naomi Watts)—who works as a diner waitress even though she’s independently wealthy—plays video games. When Henry believes the girl next door (Maddie Ziegler) is being abused by her stepfather (Dean Norris) but can’t get anyone to take action, he devises a plan of his own. The story’s most distasteful elements fall under the “spoiler” category, but brain tumors, emotional manipulation, logistically impossible schemes, and nonsensical character choices are all involved. This is twee, simple-minded button-pushing for dummies. by Eric D. Snider