The new arthouse movie “All of Us Strangers” covers a lot of territory, including the trauma of losing one’s parents when young, the pain of experiencing homophobia, and the consequences of social isolation. Its sorrowful heart is reflected in lead actor Andrew Scott’s anxious eyes as they seek closure and comfort, which in the course of the film come in the shape of visions and romance through a revisited past and a heady present. 

Alternately glum and euphoric, pensive and talky, the picture feels like a therapy session should one’s shrink believe in the power of alternate realities to heal psychic and emotional wounds. With its split narrative and woozy, weepy tone, the film isn’t the easiest to describe or recommend, yet its spectral atmosphere intrigues up until its somewhat happy ending.

Let’s start at the beginning: Mr. Scott plays Adam, a middle-aged gay man living in a highrise apartment with a widescreen view of contemporary London. We see Adam attempting to write a script about growing up in the late 1980s before his parents died in a car crash, but he’s having a hard time of it. After a false fire alarm in the building, a fellow tenant by the name of Harry tries to befriend Adam, and even drunkenly comes on to him, but it’s not until a couple days later that Adam and this handsome young man get to know each other. 

Their romantic encounter occurs only after Adam takes a train and meets the ghosts of his parents in the same suburban home in which they once lived. More productive since the reunion, Adam looks forward to interacting with his parents again, though he is now an adult man a little older than their apparitions — they were in their 30s when they died and haven’t aged. There’s also the added strangeness of his parents still looking like they’re living in the 1980s and asking questions about how his life has been during the last 30-odd years.

One of these questions has to do with whether Adam has a girlfriend, and when he informs his mother that he’s gay and confirms to his dad that he was bullied, the film’s thematic investigation of prejudice, shame, and repression takes center stage. 

Harry, too, feels alienated from his own family despite growing up during a more accepting time. Harry explains this to Adam during one of the movie’s many intimate chats. Lest one think these sleepy talks happen only with Harry, there’s also a scene in which Adam, wearing too-tight pajamas, places himself between his parents in their bed, as only young children do sometimes, and has a heart-to-heart with his mother.

Does this read as creepy and uncomfortable? That’s exactly how director Andrew Haigh seemingly wants you to feel, particularly as he has the father character morph into Harry at the end of the scene. One’s patience for all of these deep conversations and uneasy sexuality will depend greatly on one’s personal taste, yet I have to admit I was growing weary of scenes that substituted therapy sessions for drama, telling for showing, and self-consciousness for insight. 

Mr. Haigh and his creative team excel when navel-gazing takes a more shadowy form, and the film bursts with song and expressionist cinematography. An extended scene in which Adam and Harry go out dancing, with heavy drinking and some drug taking also included, turns into a phantasmagoric sequence set to Blur’s fantastic “Death of a Party.” This montage then segues into Adam helping his parents trim the Christmas tree while “Always on My Mind” by the Pet Shop Boys — by way of Willie Nelson — plays in the background. 

Those songs and more, such as Patsy Cline’s “If I Could See the World (Through the Eyes of a Child),” provide viewers with context and clues, making the overly explanatory dialogue superfluous at times. Also helping to sell the ghostly concept is the acting. Mr. Scott has the unenviable task of grounding his “visits” to his parents in an emotional reality, as well as a physical one, and he pulls it off touchingly. 

Jamie Bell somewhat convinces as Adam’s dad, yet it’s Claire Foy as “Mum” who is able to insert a bit of camp in what is admittingly a weird plot. As Harry, Paul Mescal must once again, as he did in last year’s “Aftersun,” infuse an underwritten character with “sad young man” energy and portent, and he does the best he can with what he’s given to play.

The last 10 minutes of “All of Us Strangers,” after a teary scene featuring Adam and his parents, bring the movie into David Lynchian territory. This twist makes sense, for surreal moments and hints of duality were inlaid via mirror images throughout, yet the movie’s denouement can’t quite escape the movie’s overall tidiness and emotional rationality. 

The film aims to meld Edvard Munch’s “The Scream” and the Beatles’ “Eleanor Rigby” with a queer sensibility to create a gay cri de coeur of loneliness and desperation. It ends up, though, more of a high school play written by an in-therapy teen, complete with earnest declarations, parental grievances, lots of lounging, and a stock fascination with death. What started out thought-provoking and eerie becomes pat and pleasant.