In theaters

SECRET WINDOW, written and directed by David Koepp, based Stephen King’s novella “Secret Window, Secret Garden,” rated PG-13, 106 minutes.

In spite of what its misleading television ads suggest, “Secret Window” isn’t a horror movie and it has nothing to do with the supernatural, though it likely will leave some audience members chilled.

On the surface, the film appears to have a lot going for it. It’s based on a Stephen King novella, “Secret Window, Secret Garden”; it was written and directed by David Koepp, who wrote “Spider-Man” and “Panic Room,” and who wrote and directed “Stir of Echoes”; and it stars Johnny Depp in the lead.

Sounds good, so why is it so uninvolving?

One reason is that everyone involved has grown beyond the material. King has worked variations of this story to death in other, better works; Koepp is ready to branch away from adaptations and once again direct his own original projects; and Depp is in need of a departure, a movie that skirts his crowd-pleasing quirks and shows off fresh sides of his talent.

Unlike King’s “Misery” and “The Shining,” which this movie most closely resembles, “Secret Window” isn’t grounded in any sense of believability, which harms it, and its script, by Koepp, is mere scaffolding. The film’s seriocomic tone also doesn’t help, nor does the sense that no one here is taking the movie seriously. All involved are coasting, and as a result, the movie follows suit.

In the film, Depp is Mort Rainey, a popular novelist whose marriage to Amy (Maria Bello) collapsed long before he caught her in bed with Ted (Timothy Hutton). Still, seeing them together has left Mort in the throes of a six-month depression.

Unable to write and holed up in his lakeside retreat, he’s facing divorce and on the verge of a nervous breakdown when into his life comes the mysterious John Shooter (John Turturro), an angry Mississippian with a slick Southern drawl who accuses Mort of plagiarizing one of his stories.

Not unlike Annie Wilkes in “Misery,” Shooter demands that Mort do some rewriting, with particular attention paid to the ending, which he wants Ted to fix or he’ll fix Ted and everyone else in his life.

All of this builds to a “twist” that’s telegraphed from the film’s first tracking shot. Pay attention, and Koepp reveals everything to you. If you miss it, not to worry. The film’s obvious plot elements only lead to one outcome, which in this case proves especially violent.

Grade: C

On video and DVD

SCHOOL OF ROCK, directed by Richard Linklater, written by Mike White, 110 minutes, rated PG-13.

The sharp, funny comedy, “School of Rock,” tells the story of Dewey Finn (Jack Black), a thirtysomething slacker with no career prospects who has staked much of his future on what some might consider an elusive dream – becoming a professional rock musician, one who can bang his head with the best of them.

But Dewey, who isn’t exactly a doer, has fallen short of that – so short, in fact, that he recently was booted from his own band just weeks before they were set to compete in a potentially life-altering, $20,000 battle of the bands.

Making matters worse for Dewey is Dewey’s digs. He lives in a cramped apartment with his best friend, Ned (Mike White), a mousy substitute teacher and former bandmate, and Ned’s uptight girlfriend, Patty (Sarah Silverman), who loathes Dewey’s laziness.

Desperate to find work before these two give him the heave-ho, Dewey does some tricky, if illegal, maneuvering. He passes himself off as Ned, starts teaching fifth grade at an exclusive New York prep school, and fools the rigid principal, Rosalie (Joan Cusack), into believing he’s teaching the curriculum when what he’s really teaching is these kids the history of rock and how to rock ‘n’ roll.

Black’s comedy has always been a mix of the physical and the intellectual, and here he refines it, resisting parody by remaining focused on the core of who Dewey is: a frustrated rock star longing for his big break.

The movie is formulaic, but it counters with a disarming charm. Better yet, it doesn’t condescend. Its cast of young people, mostly non-actors who are real-life musicians, don’t come off as if they were harvested in the studio’s back lot and Black’s performance, in many ways an extension of the pop culture savant he played in “High Fidelity,” is a jewel of youthful enthusiasm drumming within an adult’s body.

Rock on.

Grade: B+

Christopher Smith is the Bangor Daily News film critic. His reviews appear Mondays and Fridays in Style, 5:30 p.m. Thursdays on WLBZ 2 and WCSH 6, and are archived at RottenTomatoes.com. He can be reached at BDNFilm1@aol.com.