Paul Owens’ narrative feature debut has a couple things going for it in particular.

The first thing is what Paul did. Which is to say, he maximized his available resource to an impressive degree. As you watch the film, you’ll notice that it’s all pretty centrally located in and around a mostly empty house, and as the credits roll, you’ll notice that almost everyone in the cast shares Owens’ name. Paul and his two brothers—Mason, the protagonist, and Seth, another supporting player—are the three central characters, and their father, Jeffrey, makes appearances as well.

But Paul proves that family isn’t just a casting resource in this case: It’s an aesthetic one as well. That’s because the primary visual conceit in Landlocked is real Owens family home movies.

The film begins with Mason returning to his childhood home soon after his father’s death, when the property is set to be demolished and sold as an empty lot. As he’s looking through his father’s old belongings, Mason discovers a treasure trove of old video equipment, including a VHS camera. But when he fires the camera up and looks through the viewfinder, he doesn’t see the house and the yard as they are—he sees them as video footage of he and his brothers as children along with his father as a younger man.

Paul proves that family isn’t just a casting resource: It can be an aesthetic one as well.

As Mason investigates this newfound technological phenomenon, the film expertly balances the visual dynamic between the past and the present. These family movies do a lot of the heavy lifting, showing us memories from Mason’s childhood rather than having someone tell us about them. It’s a smart choice by Paul, even if it makes the film more of a mood piece for the majority of the runtime.

This brings us to the second reason for Landlocked’s success, which is what Paul didn’t do. A bigger budget could’ve tempted him to settle for many of the trappings of a studio film, which could’ve easily turned into subtraction by addition.

There’s not a convoluted, conspiracy-laden plot to navigate. There isn’t a reliance on special effects and jump scares to cater to lazier viewers. There’s not even a scene where Mason explains what he’s experiencing to a friend or a lover or a cop to determine whether or not he’s “crazy.” Instead, Paul just lets the film breath, keeping the “action” ambiguous and keeping the runtime economical.

Instead of relying on plot, Paul just lets the film breath, keeping the “action” ambiguous and keeping the runtime economical.

If it sounds as if Landlocked is boring, that’s far from the case. The visual conceit should be enough to grab most viewers (imagine if there was a sequel to Boyhood and it was a lo-fi horror movie), but Mason does a great job of carrying the film throughout the moments in between memories and discoveries. And there are even some impressive surprises in the third act, particularly the well-earned finale.

Perhaps Landlocked serves two purposes, then. There’s the primary goal of entertaining an audience, which is does very well. But then there’s the added inspiration it can give to aspiring filmmakers who don’t know how to even get started with a (typically) expensive medium. Anything can spark a good idea for a story—even those old videotapes still sitting in your parents’ basement.