While the inimitable American director David Lynch died in January, his spirit burns bright in a new Turkish-language film, “The Things You Kill.” Centered on a middle-aged professor who believes his father may have murdered his ailing mother, the movie hinges on a narrative disconnect often found in the acclaimed auteur’s work, with 1997’s “Lost Highway” a prime example. 

Yet by grounding his feature in naturalistic family and relationship dynamics, Iranian-Canadian filmmaker Alireza Khatami creates a hybrid picture — part psychological thriller, part realist drama — that feels both unique and in sync with its exploration of dissociation and generational trauma.

Protagonist Ali (Ekin Koç) lives with wife Hazar (Hazar Ergüçlü) at Ankara, teaching an English translation course at a local university. An early scene finds Ali cleaning his parents’ house and bathing his mother, who uses a walker to get around. When his father Hamit appears, the two immediately start to argue, with the son accusing him of neglect and the patriarch denouncing Ali’s disrespect in offering money and opinions. The scene’s acting, dialogue, and rhythm make clear that this is how many of their interactions transpire. 

Bad news soon arrives in threes when Ali learns about a deficiency preventing his wife from getting pregnant and how his class will not be offered during the school’s next term. The biggest blow occurs with his mother’s death, the circumstances of which Ali immediately begins to question in an astonishing, discomfiting scene set in his parents’ living room with his sisters and other relatives present. The dispute between father and son into which this solemn gathering devolves demonstrates a level of honesty about family relations that’s rarely depicted.

In subsequent scenes, as Ali gathers more details on his mother’s death and hears of how she was assaulted by her husband when he was studying in America, the film’s slow but astute look at family begins to transform into a thriller. Digging for clues in his parents’ house, he finds out about Hamit’s mistress, and the combination of secrets, acrimony, domestic drama, and clashing social values puts one in mind of another Iranian director, Asghar Farhadi of “A Separation” and “The Salesman” fame. 

Close to an hour in, though, the narrative takes not one but two big leaps when Ali and Reza, an itinerant laborer he recently hired, kill Hamit, which leads to Mr. Koç being replaced as the main character by Erkan Kolçak Köstendil, who previously portrayed the hired hand. The latter development certainly takes some adjusting to, particularly as very few stylistic hints had prepared the viewer for this transformation, minus several shots involving mirrors and other reflective surfaces. Yet this is precisely where the film’s sly power lies: in its fusing of a fairly straightforward drama with surrealism and irrationality through understated direction, imagery, and tone. The movie contains no music, either.

No longer a slightly awkward, well-meaning, honest man, Mr. Köstendil in the second act plays Ali as someone who commits bribery, flirts with a student, and generally behaves like his difficult dad. Incidentally, the patriarch is reported missing to the authorities and we watch this Ali mechanically assist the investigation. During sharp scenes in which the character interacts with women, specifically his two sisters, wife, and father’s mistress, the director makes some of his most trenchant points about male aggression and cycles of abuse. While the two actors are skillful, it is the actresses who truly convey the toll of emotional suppression and subjugation.

In press notes, Mr. Khatami mentions how he originally wished to set the film in his home country of Iran but censorship authorities did not approve of its plot. The director nonetheless makes use of Turkish nationalist symbols to add to his interrogation of patriarchy. He also deploys the Anatolian countryside, where Ali has a small farm and where the patricide is committed, to great effect, with its wide, dry valleys and jagged mountains contrasting with the often clinical, confining spaces of the city scenes.

While Ali no. 2 is generally unpleasant and untrustworthy, he does admit to Hazar how he’s the reason she cannot conceive, which leads to a reconciliation between the couple. By coming clean about his “inadequacy,” the character further demonstrates the courage his former self lacked. At times, this duality comes off over-explained and intellectualized, such as in classroom scenes where the word “translation” and its negative Arabic root are juxtaposed. The different “interpretation” of the character — a.k.a,. Ali’s more “detached” doppelganger or id — needs no explanation when the themes of domination and self-negation are readily apparent, particularly as Ali no. 1 lies chained like a dog. 

The question of how to overcome toxic masculinity and inherited pain — essentially how to be a better man and heal from trauma and obsessive anger — consumes the film. In its third act, Mr. Khatami doesn’t provide easy answers or even logical conclusions to events, only an intriguingly blurred monologue and a happy-ish ending. Like Lynch, he leaves you a bit baffled, only to have a few images and moments creep up in one’s mind later and make mysterious, metaphysical sense.