“the Book Of Henry” Is A Misbegotten Mish-mash Of Several Different Movies

One and one-half stars. Rated PG-13. 105 minutes. There’s genre-bending, and then there’s genre-breaking. Director Colin Trevorrow made a modest splash with his 2012 theatrical feature debut, “Safety Not Guaranteed,” an entertainingly quirky time-travel rom-com that was an example of the former category of un-pigeonholability. After a foray into more straightforward stuff, with 2015’s”Jurassic World,” the cinematic mad scientist has returned to the laboratory with “The Book of Henry,” a movie so mystifyingly misbegotten that it makes Frankenstein — the monster, not the movie — seem unremarkable. It’s the filmmaking equivalent of a monkey with the head of a goat, the tail of a fish, wings and teeny-tiny rat claws. Working from a screenplay by Gregg Hurwitz, a TV writer (“V”) making his big-screen debut, Trevorrow starts off well enough with “Henry,” whose title character, played by “Midnight Special’s” otherworldly Jaeden Lieberher, is an 11-year-old prodigy who runs his family’s finances while scribbling furiously in notebooks, haunting libraries, snapping Polaroids, talking on payphones and leaving audio notes to himself on a microcassette recorder.