Ever since Billy Wilder’s “Buddy Buddy” (1981) and John Huston’s “Prizzi’s Honor” (1985), American filmmakers have expended miles of film stock trying to prove that there’s nothing naughtier or funnier than a hired killer having a bad day at the office. Frank Falenczyk (Sir Ben Kingsley), the hard-luck assassin in neo-noirist John Dahl’s new film “You Kill Me” is not a wayward preppie weaned on indie rock like John Cusack’s paid assassin in “Grosse Point Blank.” He’s also not a retro hipster who exchanges pop culture drolleries with his partner like the gunsels in “Pulp Fiction” do. A Polish-American mob family enforcer in Buffalo, Frank is from the ethnic-accented, shrugging, pre-Tarantino “Prizzi” school of hit men. And Frank’s “partner” is a bottle of booze.

Methodically tossing a fifth of vodka into the snow in front of him and then rewarding himself with a swig as he clears his snow-covered front porch, Frank is the picture of functional alcoholism. But when his boss, Roman (played by Phillip Baker Hall as if he were nervously awaiting the last plane out of the film’s Winnipeg location), sends him to eliminate the Krzeminski family’s competition, Frank drinks too much, passes out, and misses the target. Clearly he has arrived at hit-man bottom.

For reasons that aren’t particularly clear, Frank is banished to San Francisco, where he becomes the unwilling servant of two masters. One is Dave, an unctuous and shady real estate agent played by Bill Pullman, here cultivating a jowly and creepy screen presence worlds away from the trim, compassionate presidents and slightly rumpled romantic leads that are his stock-in-trade. The other is Tom (Luke Wilson), a gay toll-taker on the Golden Gate Bridge who becomes Frank’s Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor.

From Dave, Frank gets authentic sounding Bay Area pearls of wisdom like, “In the time of a 2% vacancy rate, the real estate agent is god,” and a job as a mortuary assistant. From Tom and the ordinary citizens he meets in “the rooms,” he gets a helping hand navigating the rocky shoals of sobriety. From his job, Frank gets a girlfriend, Laurel (Téa Leoni), a wisecracking, quirky, and inexplicably single professional woman whose capacity for acceptance appears immeasurably deep.

“So whattya think so far?” Dave asks his new sponsoree after a meeting. “It’s okay, a little talky,” Frank replies in words that accurately describe “You Kill Me” for its first 45 minutes. But around the halfway mark the film’s chatty, kooky amble begins to trip itself up.

Everything back in Buffalo falls apart the minute Frank is sent away. So wouldn’t it make sense for Roman to recall Frank and his gun, not matter what shape he’s in, rather than stage a Western-style showdown and sacrifice that prolongs two acts-worth of ideas into three acts-worth of movie? How is it that Frank is able to walk into a temporary job and excel in one of the most heavily regulated industries in perhaps the most regulation-happy state in the union without any prior experience? And why on earth am I thinking about mortuary regulations in the middle of what’s supposed to be playful but taut entertainment?

A former storyboard artist, Mr. Dahl has demonstrated a flair for clear visual storytelling in films like “Red Rock West” and “Rounders.” But in “You Kill Me,” he seems somewhat unclear about precisely what cocktail of crime picture and Amer-indie whimsy he’s trying to mix. The fault doesn’t lie with his leads. Sir Ben has obviously spent quality time crafting Frank’s accent and mannerisms. Ms. Leoni endeavors to equip Laura with an honest sense of need that maps out the rough road of romantic debris she’s left behind en route to love with Frank.

The culprit is the script. Screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely have crafted a half-baked mess of gangster movie and romantic comedy clichés, and seem to have only seen men and women die, fall in love, or get sober in movies or on TV. Despite the cast’s efforts, the characters in “You Kill Me” don’t grow and change based on the conflicts they face and choices they make; rather, they morph into new people whenever the film’s increasingly predictable twists and turns require them to do so.

Distributed by IFC, hosts of an excellent movie theater and cable channel, “You Kill Me” documents the perfect recipe for well-intentioned but creatively bankrupt American independent filmmaking. Take a mediocre, unsold script written by two recently established A-list screenwriters (Messrs. Markus and McFeely wrote “The Chronicles of Narnia”), attach a respected actor’s actor, and trade his Rolodex for a producer’s credit. Call every bankable actor and director in your producer-leading man’s Rolodex until you have enough medium magnitude star power in front of and behind the camera to swing a cable deal, and voilà! “You Kill Me” is today’s afterthought storytelling du jour — another in a long line of hit-man comedies that are tough to swallow.