After hitting fool's gold with his entry into the ongoing '70s-simulation craze, Monster's Ball, and playing the whimsical-pederast card in the godawful Finding Neverland, pan-genre hack Marc Foster comes a depressive crapper with Stay. A metaphysical cross of M. Night Shyamalan and Charlie Kaufman's secondhand Philip K. Dickisms run through an annoying, early-Godardian jump-cut-apalooza technique it tells of a New York shrink (Ewan McGregor) who tries to stop a miserable student (Ryan Gosling) from killing himself, but ends up confronting the fragmentation of Reality Itself. Or something. What this mainly means is McGregor running around in chic, retro-'30s outfits amidst a Manhattan pointlessly limned as a vaguely futuristic megalopolis, and having occasional time-out chats with his suicide-survivor wife (Naomi Watts). Janeane Garofalo shows up playing a wretched shrink, livening things up by sheer force of her Garofalo-ness before the film sinks back into its sullen wallow in style-crazed heaviosity. If dreariness were high art, Stay would be a permanent fixture in the Louvre.