If the phrase “sad sack” retains any currency in the 21st century, it may be said that Joshua, the putative hero of Canadian filmmaker Martin Edralin’s debut, fits the bill. 

Perennially put upon and socially awkward, Joshua (Rogelio Balagtas) wanders through “Islands” with a hangdog expression. He’s a 40-ish bachelor with a strong sense of duty and little capacity for joy. Shy to a fault, he works as a janitor at a local university, but most of his time is spent taking care of his parents.

In fact, Joshua has never left home. His mother, Alma (Vangie Alcasid), is doting and disappointed. As much as Alma spoils her son — Joshua is never without a home-cooked meal or fresh laundry — she laments, often with cruel insistence, his not being married. You see, Joshua’s younger brother, Paolo (a strapping Pablo S.J. Quiogue), has done right by Alma, having married his co-worker, Liz (Bianca Yambanis), and had two beautiful children.

Joshua’s father, Reynaldo (Esteban Comilang), is more hobbled by old age than Alma, and he is given to long stretches of silence and distraction. We do learn that Reynaldo was quite the Elvis imitator in his day. When Christmas comes around, he celebrates the occasion by donning the trademark white jumpsuit — much to the bemusement of his grandchildren. 

Although the story concerns itself primarily with the responsibilities that come with family, it also shines a light on the Filipino emigre community in Canada. Assimilation and its accommodations is a dynamic Mr. Edralin glances upon. Liz, for instance, is the only person in the family of non-Filipino descent, and we learn that Joshua had a practice as a dentist back in the Philippines. 

Why the family packed their bags and moved to the Americas is a question that’s never addressed. Still, tradition, language, and, especially, religious faith persists. Catholicism figures significantly in “Islands.”

The shifting of cultural mores due to geographical displacement is further emphasized when Joshua’s cousin, Marisol (Sheila Lotuaco), arrives from Kuwait. She comes to Canada upon the unexpected death of Alma, and ends up staying several weeks. 

Marisol would prefer not to return to Kuwait, having worked as a caregiver under distressing circumstances. Given Reynaldo’s health, which takes a downward turn after the death of his wife, Marisol stays on to help Joshua. The decision seems a no-brainer.

Joshua comes to depend on Marisol’s assistance, but also for the lessons she gives on more mundane matters. Among the more buoyant scenes in “Islands” is when Marisol teaches Joshua how to chop an onion. A tender moment is shared between the two players. Joshua even smiles — or close to it, anyway.

If you’ve guessed that love-sweet-love enters into the relationship between Joshua and Marisol — well, let’s just say Mr. Edralin traffics a bit in received storylines. What happens with that love is a sticky wicket, and its upshot, again, is not unforeseen. You need a deft hand to enliven well-traveled waters. As a scriptwriter, Mr. Edralin proves capable; as a filmmaker, he is something more.

Understatement is Mr. Edralin’s style. The dialogue is bare-bones; the mise en scène, carefully weighted. The story is parceled out almost grudgingly, and long takes predominate. Composition, more than momentum, is the rule. Not a few dramatic plot points — Alma’s death is one — occur off-camera. Repercussions to events, the director affirms, are more telling than the events themselves.

Sometimes Mr. Edralin makes a fetish of stillness. At one point, Joshua reheats a meal in the microwave, and we watch the timer tick down a full minute. The accompanying music, a bit of retro cha-cha-cha, only makes a self-conscious moment cutesy — not a winning combination. 

On the whole, however, “Islands” is a model of restraint, and evidence that cinematic sobriety can embody and, in the end, embolden deep feelings.