Actually, as someone who is disabled (I have mild cerebral palsy), I have a soft spot for stories about the disabled overcoming obstacles. But I also wish people like myself weren't portrayed to inspire the saccharine, hollow sentimentality that runs thick in this movie.

The filmmakers have their hearts in the right place in wanting to tell the true story of James "Radio" Robert Kennedy, who to this day is "the most beloved 11th-grader" at a South Carolina high school, even though he's long past 11th-grade age.

Unfortunately, neither writer Mike Rich nor director Michael Tollin are imaginative enough or passionate enough about Radio to give the movie real heft.

Even with a handful of genuine tear-jerking moments, the film comes across like a series of cheap greeting cards: there's the lonely Radio who needs a friendship card. There's the frightened Radio who needs an encouragement card. There's the sad Radio who needs a sympathy card. And there's the heroic Radio who warrants a congratulations card. This movie would be right at home on the Hallmark Channel.

When we first meet Radio (Cuba Gooding, Jr.) in 1976, he's a shy, withdrawn kid who does nothing but push a shopping cart around town all day long. The football coach, Harold Jones (Ed Harris), notices him and takes a liking to the mentally retarded boy, inviting him to help the football team as a kind of gofer.

At first, acceptance doesn't come easily to Radio, especially when some of the morons on the football team tie him up in a shed. Eventually, though, Radio's gentle charisma wins most of the town over — except for the Scrooge-like father of the star athlete, who thinks Radio is a distraction to the school.

That "Radio" does have a few compelling moments is due largely to Gooding and Harris, who invest their roles with genuine feeling. Thankfully, Gooding doesn't resort to so many hammy tricks to demand that the audience hug him, instead playing Radio as a simple kid who doesn't know how to be anything other than a nice guy. Harris gives the coach an engaging authority that makes his character strong but compassionate. Their acting feels natural, not forced.

Too much of "Radio" feels unnatural, though. In movies about the disabled, the characters should go through some notable change so that the story has conviction, and that doesn't happen here. "Rain Man" worked because I felt Tom Cruise's change from a self-centered jerk to a loving brother. "My Left Foot" worked because I felt a real sense of triumph when Christy Brown changed from a mute to an expressive writer. Even the middling "Scent of a Woman" worked because Al Pacino's blustering practically forced me to believe he finally cared about somebody other than himself.

Radio does become more outgoing than he had been, and that's great to see, but what about the people around him? Most of them are the same nice people at the end that they were at the beginning, only they congratulate themselves a lot. That's not very compelling drama.

What bothered me most about "Radio" was I could constantly feel it pushing my buttons, wanting to uplift me. The oppressive score by James Horner piles on such a drippy string section that this movie was uplifting all right. It made me want to uplift my lunch at times.

The movie reminded me of a story about a man who was about to give a speech. After the man was introduced as "hearing impaired," he finally said, "I'm not hearing impaired. I'm deaf!"

Watching "Radio," I know just how that man felt: coddled like a baby. It's a great thing for a movie to be inspiring. It's not such a great thing for a movie to tell you that you really ought to be inspired by it.