Anyone struck by the oddness of hordes of paparazzi hounding a grieving father about his son’s death in a university shooting shouldn’t be too surprised by Rudderless’ third-act revelation: Josh was the shooter. While this makes the nature of Sam’s grief, and his response to it, more nuanced and complicated, the film overplays its hand by playing coy, then dropping this revelation with all the grace and subtlety of an ex-advertising executive storming into his office and drunkenly kissing a co-worker before falling onto a table. In other words: It’s a twist that didn’t need to be twisted. The fact that it leads to more overwrought displays of grief—Sam and his ex-wife clean the graffiti off their son’s tombstone on what would have been his 21st birthday; Sam has another loud public breakdown next to the plaque memorializing the shooting, which doesn’t include Josh’s name—is especially unfortunate, given that Rudderless is far more effective when it’s letting Sam process his complex emotions through his son’s songs.