I remember Michael Keaton for some compulsively watchable acting roles in the 80s. Beetlejuice and Batman with Tim Burton took him into heightened realities, Pacific Heights was a more grounded thriller — he was excellent in all. And then he seeemed to fall off the radar, leaving me wondering what had become of him. It’s taken until now to answer that question, with his directorial debut The Merry Gentleman.

Scripted by Ron Lazzeretti, the film recounts the relationship of a hitman (Keaton) with a young woman working in an office (Kelly Macdonald). In less accomplished hands, this could have been a gauche comedy. Instead, it’s a gently paced rumination on the nature of friendship. And, commercially speaking at least, that gentle pace may not help the film’s commercial potential. Which would be a great shame.

I’m not surprised that Keaton chose his cast well and gets good performances from them. What impresses rather more are some of the other aspects of the film, though without seeing the screenplay it’s hard to be sure whether to credit Lazzeretti or Keaton. The director at least deserves plaudits for his execution of ideas that may have been there on the page, at least.

One touch I loved was simplicity itself. A cop is attracted to Macdonald’s character and wants to find out more about her for personal reasons. In a very understated way, his colleague takes a step back and puts his notebook away as the personal questions continue.

Later, when Macdonald and Keaton have established their friendship, there’s a wonderful moment when they watch a burning Christmas tree. She didn’t want to see it languish in a skip, he picks up her mood, and somehow — we don’t get to hear the conversation, and don’t need to — arrive at the Viking funeral concept.

If you get the understated effectiveness of those two scenes, you’ll be in tune with Keaton’s intentions as director: this is a film of small ongoing pleasures, rather than cresting and falling between set pieces. Musically, the analogy can be made with chamber jazz groups, all about subtle interplay rather than flash.

All of which goes to tell you that, whatever Keaton’s ambitions, he’s not heading for the easier kudos awarded other directors who feature hitmen as their protagonists. This is slow burn stuff, and rightly so: it would have been easy for Macdonald being the focus of attention of Keaton, the cop, and an ex to seem contrived. Instead it feels natural, perhaps a consequence of her character’s innate reticence — the same quality that draws her to Keaton.

It’s not stretching things to say that everyone in the film is damaged. Not in a melodramatic hearts and flowers way, but all are bruised by life’s vagaries. And that’s what draws them together, too. I’m reminded of the scene in Magnolia in which a sequence of characters all sing along to One Is The Loneliest Number on the radio. The characters here feel that they could be in a Paul Thomas Anderson film, and if that’s who Keaton’s filmmaking brings to mind then he’s in good company: this is certainly a more accomplished feature than Anderson’s first, Hard Eight.

I went into the cinema expecting a wry American indie film of the sort I like a lot, and came away with more than that. The Merry Gentleman is, in its quiet way, a brilliantly crafted film in every respect, and one that I hope you find as much satisfaction from as I have. Subtly intelligent, delighting in shades of emotion and meaning, this is filmmaking of a high order.