Jacob Tierney's The Trotsky plays like the second coming of John Hughes. Sharp-witted, cleverly constructed and anchored by a blazing performance from Jay Baruchel in the lead, Tierney delivers a throwback to the greatest era of teen cinema ever. Well, he does for the first half, at least, before losing the plot somewhat and starting to indulge the idea that his creation could actually be about something more than an amusingly delusional teen crusader without actually spending the time required to write down what that more could convincingly be. That came out harsher than intended.

Jay Baruchel is Leon Bronstein, a privileged Montreal teen who believes -- by virtue of sharing his icon's birth name --  that he is the reincarnation of Leon Trotsky and fated to re-live Trotsky's life item by item. He will marry an older woman named Alexandra. He will be sent into exile. He will eventually be assassinated. But first he will help the common man. He will do this by organizing a strike in his father's factory and, when that accomplishes no more than getting him removed from his posh private school, he will organize a self-determining student union at his new public school in an effort to throw off the shackles of administrative oppression enforced by Principal Berkhoff (played with admirable menace by Colm Feore).

As long as The Trotsky sticks close to this basic premise -- delusional but highly intelligent teen engages in bizarre behavior -- it absolutely bubbles and crackles along on the strength of an enormously charismatic performance from Baruchel. Surely this is the arrival of a new Ferris Bueller with Baruchel as a new generation Matthew Broderick? But then things get wobbly. The first sign of distress comes with the arrival of Bronstein's Alexandra and their developing relationship. Memo to screenwriters: Women do not think it cute when they're being stalked. Though Emily Hampshire is strong in the part it quickly becomes apparent that Tierney wants the duo to have the trappings of a legitimate relationship -- he requires it, actually, to fuel Bronstein's obsession -- but has absolutely no means of actually making it feel believable. And so he just kind of goes through the motions and seems to hope that you won't notice that the motions are pretty pointless. Same thing with Bronstein's nemesis, Principal Berkhoff. Absolutely fantastic performance from Colm Feore, but one in which he is given little to do beyond playing a cliche.

There is, sadly, only one real character in The Trotsky: Baruchel's Bronstein. Everybody else in this film exists only at the bare minimum standards required to propel Bronstein forward. It doesn't kill the film exactly -- Baruchel is far too fun to watch for that to happen -- but it certainly makes it much less than it could have been had Tierney paid more attention to getting the support players right. And let's not even talk about the wisdom of inserting a feel- good self-empowerment message into a film about a delusional young man who probably needs professional help. This one could have been a true great -- a film executed with style and strong performances always has that shot -- but the failings of the script reduce it to being merely a passingly pleasant diversion.