The best way to describe the feeling of the first act of David Marmor’s debut feature 1BR is through exploring the score as it introduces the film. Glimpses of Los Angeles float by while a ominously dissonant score plays in the background. The almost beautifully pleasant music sounds like it’s played on a piano that’s just a bit out of tune; hitting discordant notes once in a while, while smiling faces wave to the camera. Just like the vacantly waving people on the screen, the music should be calming and inviting.

Sarah (Nicole Brydon Bloom) is an LA transplant, fleeing the kind of overprotective and overbearing father (Alan Blumenfeld) that would cheat on his wife while she’s dying of cancer. She’s come to LA to be a costume designer and her journals are filled with beautiful drawings of potential costumes. In the meantime, she’s getting by with temp jobs while living in a cheap motel. But she’s found the apartment of her dreams.

Welcome to Asilo Del Mar, an apartment complex offering “Affordable Luxury Apartment Living!” It’s the dream apartment complex, filled with friendly and diverse people. It’s the kind of complex where an elderly and faded actress named Edie (Susan Davis) boozily stumbles through the Open House party, throwing around “enchanté”’s to everyone. The tenants include a lawyer and doctor power couple in Oliver (Jaime Valena) and Esther (Earnestine Phillips). And of course, there’s the good-natured, all-American cutie named Brian (Giles Matthey), with his always helpful attitude and winning smile. Asilo Del Mar feels like a small family or town; a close knit community where everyone knows each other and looks out for each other.

“We all kind of take care of each other here,” as Edie would say.

Against all odds (and maybe some help from Brian), Sarah manages to snag the one bedroom apartment that seems perfect for her. Except there’s a problem. Or, rather, two. The first is that Sarah has a cat named Giles she must hide because Asilo Del Mar is strictly a “no pets allowed” kind of place. She sneaks him in and makes awkward excuses to ward off the nice residents who want to help her move in.

The other, more pressing issue is the sudden appearance of loud banging and plumbing noises that fill her apartment at night, destroying any chance of restful sleep. As she pops Zoloft and tries to keep her schedule straight, Sarah starts to realize that the front-facing utopia she has signed up for hides a darker interior.

It begins slowly when she runs out of Zoloft and struggles to get refills. She tries to be the best neighbor possible, taking care of a wobbly and ill Edie. But someone knows she has snuck a cat in and slips a note under her door that says, “Some people are allergic, you selfish bitch.” Then there’s Lester (Clayton Hoff), the creepy eye-patch-wearing neighbor who skitters in the background and tries to give Sarah a self-help book called The Power of Community: Selflessness in a Selfish World.

It’s difficult to discuss what makes 1BR so quietly intense without spoiling the surprises along the way and while I’ve repeatedly stated that I’m not beholden to “spoiler adverse culture,” part of the joy in these narratives is the way it keeps the viewer unbalanced. While the first act brings to mind the utopian-looking dystopia of apartment living seen in movies like Rosemary’s Baby and The Tenant, the script takes more than one turn as it slowly unveils the mystery behind Asilo Del Mar.

It’s just unfortunate, though understandable, that our hero is kind of a passive participant in the narrative. In a lot of ways, Sarah feels like a tabula rasa and that blank slate state makes her boring to watch. Nicole Brydon Bloom does her best and brings a naive tenderness to Sarah that helps raise it above what feels like a non-character, but there’s only so much she can do.

Sarah’s a wallflower that has seemingly coasted through life. I mean, her dad bought her a Lexus at one point. This upper class naivety is brought into stark relief through her work friend Lisa (Celeste Sully). Lisa is introduced talking back to her boss as Sarah watches in awe. You almost wonder what the narrative would look like if Lisa were our protagonist. When Sarah asks how she can say that to their boss, Lisa responds: “It’s. My. Fucking. Life.” This motto hits at the themes embedded in 1BR’s dystopian apartment complex and the give-and-take of self versus community. With Asilo Del Mar’s incredibly structured view of selflessness, this motto is kind of a warcry and the narrative frequently explores both sides of the theme.

Where David Marmor’s film works best is with its twisty narrative and thematic underpinnings. 1BR is a constantly shifting nightmare that surprises at every turn. Take the second act, where we learn the truth behind this tight community and its very totalitarian take on maintaining a specific status quo. Here, Marmor puts his protagonist through hell and forces the viewer to voyeuristically participate, before twisting again to bring everything together in a hauntingly effective way.

The way 1BR envisions a warped idea of a “perfect community.” One that’s free of loneliness. Of poverty. Free of strife. A place that contrasts with the real world, with its digital loneliness and obsession with phones. A place where you are respected and expected to contribute. It’s better living through totalitarianism. And they have a vacancy.

“Welcome to the community.”