You can hear the echoes of David Duchovny's Princeton and Yale education in "House of D," his writing and directing debut. The former "X-Files" actor uses metaphor, language and flights of fancy like the literate guy he is.

But it's not enough to keep "House of D" out of detention.

This sappy and improbable story is about a boy who comes of age thanks to the wisdom and good graces of a mentally challenged janitor (Robin Williams) and a prostitute with a heart of you-know-what.

There are two bright spots: Anton Yelchin as a smart-aleck 13-year-old in desperate need of parenting, and singer Erykah Badu, who manages to make us keenly interested in a character seen mostly in shadow, a prostitute who yells from her window at the now demolished Women's House of Detention (the title reference) in Greenwich Village.

Tommy Warshaw (Yelchin) is a street-smart but lonely kid growing up in the Village in the '70s. His father is dead, and his mother (played by Duchovny's wife, Tea Leoni) isn't adjusting well. She's a nervous smoker and a nervous mother, and she's making us nervous, too — she uses the bathroom even when her abashed son is in there showering.

It's a lot for a kid to handle, but Tommy deals with his mom as he deals with private school and his first crush — with a mixture of sensitivity and gentle sarcasm.

Tommy's dialogue feels genuine, perhaps because Duchovny's story has autobiographical underpinnings. The same cannot be said for what comes out of the mouth of Pappass (Williams), a middle-aged school janitor and butcher-shop deliveryman. Like so many dim-bulb characters in the movies, Pappass is only a fool when he is not being as wise as Yoda.

The prostitute, too, is one of those all-purpose characters who selflessly serves the movie's protagonist.

A poorly conceived framing device — the adult Tommy, played by Duchovny, tells the story in flashback to his Parisian wife and their son — detracts from parts that are well told and moving. The best scene is when Tommy, still awkward despite practicing beforehand with a lamppost, asks the girl he adores to dance. (The girl is played with a grave and pleasing naturalness by Robin Williams' daughter, Zelda.)

Duchovny shows great affection for '70s New York — and also for French culture, although his accent is alarming enough to suggest that his character looked better on paper.