After an ambiguous opening, we are introduced to Steve (RJ Mitte) who returns to his hometown dive-bar in a snowy storm to face some past demons. The bartender, Paul (a gruff Peter Outerbridge) enlightens us to the fact that Steve missed his father’s funeral as well as owing a significant debt to Paul.

Steve strangely offers to pay his debt with a story and despite reservations, Paul humours the young man and our protagonist begins chronicling a series of bizarre incidents involving another bar down the road called The Oak Room.

We’ve all heard the boozy barfly spinning exaggerated and entertaining yarns but Steve’s calm demeanour has us immediately questioning how true the stories he weaves.

The unreliable narrator trope is standard crime fare but here the low-key set up (adapted from a very dialogue-driven stage play) helps the small nature of the film display a tone of inevitable imprisonment as each story illuminates the previous one in a Memento-style reverse timeline.

From a man with a bloodied hand rushing into The Oak Room at closing, to a hitchhiker being picked up by a hellish driver, the structure sees flashbacks within flashbacks and stories told within stories. One’s past, the role of father-figures, the nature of evil and even just drunken exploits are all explored in a set of enigmatic recollections.

The Oak Room chooses to make the most of its stage-play set-up by using its restricted resources to focus on the rising conflicts of character and dialogue. And the myriad of puzzles it provides keeps the intriguing mystery moving forward as each account builds upon another.

In the negative column is a slightly sparse narrative and although there is a hint of a mythic force at play, at times the film feels like it’s missing a few footsteps in the snow to help us make sense of the seemingly random sequences.

However, my own recollection of the various folktales similarly told by Steve Buscemi and Quentin Tarantino in Desperado (1995) made clear the film could also have done with a shot of humour to add more light and shade.

As it is, these retellings are filled with sordid but delightfully dark details but meanders at times between the more dramatic beats as we attempt to dissect what is fact or fiction.

Despite the film being restricted by a number of constraints, there’s some great performances by the storytellers themselves with Breaking Bad’s RJ Mitte being especially convincing. But with enough secrets to uncover, indie film fans should pull up a stool and sit squarely at the end of the bar to pay close attention to director Cody Calahan who has plenty to say with this formidable feature.

★★★★