"Donnie Darko"

Many of the elements here are those of a mid-'80s John Hughes movie, or for that matter of the "Back to the Future" films, an influence that Kelly specifically acknowledges in a conversation between Donnie and his science teacher (a fine if brief role for Noah Wyle of TV's "ER"). Somewhat in the manner of Darren Aronofsky (in "Pi" and "Requiem for a Dream") or Wes Anderson ("Rushmore"), Kelly takes these elements of pop storytelling and stretches them into something transcendent, personal and deeply strange.

When "Donnie Darko" echoes or quotes scenes from "Nightmare on Elm Street" or "The Abyss," I don't think it's a film-school homage but rather a recognition that those images have overflowed their containers and now inhabit the general Jungian subcellar. Kelly's blend of satire, period piece and tragic love story is itself a kind of cultural archetype that extends from "American Beauty" and "The Virgin Suicides" back to "Peggy Sue Got Married" and well beyond. But few filmmakers of any era have blended the sensibilities of pop and art film so effortlessly, or combined them with such a haunting tale of loss and redemption.

Donnie is angry and alienated, but he's no self-centered nihilist. He loves his girlfriend and his family, and his struggle with the rabbit-demon named Frank (a sinister counterpart to Jimmy Stewart's companion in "Harvey," perhaps), like his explorations of the philosophical implications of time travel, are devoted to finding a moral and metaphysical purpose in the universe. (Although religion is hardly mentioned in "Donnie Darko," he attends a Catholic high school, and theology is never far below the surface.) In Kelly's universe, even the most dreadful questions -- does every living creature die alone? -- are subject to a wonderful reshaping.

Kelly handles his ensemble cast with a sensitivity you can't learn in film school. Although the entire movie revolves around Jake Gyllenhaal's memorable performance, the supporting actors, who range from the 16-year-old Malone to Drew Barrymore (also the film's executive producer) as a sympathetic schoolteacher to veteran actress Katharine Ross (onetime costar of "The Graduate" and "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid") as Donnie's therapist, are just as good. (Patrick Swayze is enjoyable as a slimeball self-help guru, but his entire subplot is too clever and self-aware by half.) Special mention must be made of McDonnell, who turns that most treacherous of all female roles, the suburban mom, into the film's moral and emotional anchor in a performance of understated intensity.

Kelly is just 26, but while "Donnie Darko" is a young man's film in its brashness and daring (and its slightly overthickened satire), it's not a movie by a kid. Kelly isn't ashamed of his film-wonk influences: At a crucial juncture in the story, Donnie and Gretchen go to see a double bill: "The Evil Dead" and "The Last Temptation of Christ." (When Gretchen falls asleep and Frank appears, Donnie asks him: "Why are you wearing that stupid bunny suit?" Frank's response is chilling: "Why are you wearing that stupid man suit? Take it off.") Amid all the other film references careening through this movie, these two are not accidental. "Donnie Darko" has the pulse-pounding narrative suspense of the first and the moral seriousness of the second. It marks the beginning of what ought to be an amazing career.

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