Is it possible to write about the new film directed by comedian Louis C.K., “Fourth of July,” without expounding on his personal failings?

The dynamic between a work of art and the artist responsible for it has forever been a cause of consternation. Each of us has our own list of actors, painters, singers, and writers we’ve soured on, given their predilections for bad and sometimes criminal behavior. Yet do we really look at art as a guide for moral behavior? Its track record as an effective prescription for righteousness is iffy. 

Regardless, it seems unlikely that “Fourth of July” will get a fair shake. The movie has prompted the requisite tut-tut-tutting from our cultural arbiters. “A clandestine defense of Louis C.K.’s transgressions” is the summum of one critic.  Another dismisses the movie as “onanism of a different kind.” 

“If this undeniably talented multi-hyphenate really wanted to make an impact …,” we read elsewhere, “perhaps he should have delved into his own psyche instead.” There are few things quite as satisfying as fulminating from a high horse.

Opinions differ, of course, yet one can’t help but wonder how history — which has, after all, a remarkable ability to blunt the edges of outrage — will judge, if not Mr. C.K. necessarily, then his congenial, very funny, and sometimes moving comedy. My crystal ball is as good as the next critic’s, but I’ll go out on a limb and say that “Fourth of July” will transcend the vagaries of our moment and the sins of its maker. It’s a good movie.

The hero of “Fourth of July”  is anything but heroic. Jeff (Joe List) is a jazz pianist, recovering alcoholic, and a bundle of neuroses. He lives in Manhattan with his loving and tolerant wife, Beth (Sarah Tollemache), and semi-regularly meets up with Bill (Bill Scheft), his sponsor from Alcoholics Anonymous, who also happens to be the drummer for the band Jeff regularly gigs with. Jeff’s week is punctuated by appointments with his therapist (Mr. C.K.), but his biggest challenge lies outside of the city.

That would be the annual Fourth of July family get-together in rural Maine. Jeff makes a rare executive decision and decides that Beth should skip the sojourn this summer. The reasons are two-fold: Jeff’s mother (Paula Plum) doesn’t think much of Beth and is unafraid of making that opinion known, and, more important, this is the reunion in which Jeff will — finally — confront his mother and father for their presumed failings as parents.

There’s also Kevin, a name Jeff mentions early on with significant trepidation and as a figure to be avoided. As it turns out, Uncle Kevin is an aggressive, loud-mouthed boor who has no compunction about strong-arming Jeff into taking a tipple or letting fly on any marginalized group you’d care to name. He’s a type, sure, but as played by Nick DiPaolo, Uncle Kevin is one of the best things about “Fourth of July,” a bracing rush of causticity among the pussy-footing typical of dysfunctional families — and, for that matter, contemporary cinema.

The entire cast of the movie is exemplary. Mr. C.K. reached out to friends and acquaintances in the community of stand-up comics, and has cast the film with dead-on accuracy. What’s remarkable is that comedians like Mr. DiPaolo, Ms. Tollemache, Chris Walsh, Robert Kelly, and Tony Viveiros hold their own as actors against formidable talents like Ms. Plum, Robert Walsh, and Tara Pacheco. “Fourth of July” is an ensemble film without a weak link.

It is Mr. List who distinguishes himself the most thoroughly. We’ve seen this kind of nebbish before, and the worry is that Jeff will remain a stock comic foil. He doesn’t. In two riveting, painful, and hilarious scenes — one with the entire family; the other with Uncle Mark (Mr. Walsh) — Mr. List holds the screen in a manner that not only points to his character’s growth and complexity, but underlines his own considerable gifts as an actor. Not every funny man deserves a starring role; few earn it. Mr. List is, in that regard, a rarity, and “Fourth of July” is a rewarding film.