“Welcome to the Jeffers Corporation,” murmurs a soothing voice, over a company logo — one that looks exactly like someone flipping the bird. We move to a gray, pneumatic tubed, windowless office room where the employees flip each other off with the corporate moutza in greeting. At least “Visioneers” is upfront about its rough edges.

George, its main character, is played by the howlingly funny Zach Galifianakis, his usual bearded bile squashed like every sunken-eyed man slugging his way through a life of quiet, lazy disappointment as though it were a case of warm Budweiser. He’s a cog, his son never leaves his room, his wife is straight out of an Oprah studio audience and the country is facing an epidemic of exploding, a strange condition in which anyone who starts dreaming literally suicide-bombs themselves. First-time filmmakers Jared and Brandon Drake basically made a movie out of someone’s horror at discovering “10,000 Things To Be Happy About” (“a baby’s first tooth, teakettles, sweet potato souffle with tiny marshmallows”) was a real book.

This movie could have been amazing. There’s an older brother who threw off the Jeffers shackles to become a charismatic pole-vaulter with good-looking, groovy hipster followers. At work, after a co-worker explodes, his pale, hunched, inadequate replacement snacks on hamburger crumbles from a Ziploc. George and his co-workers are given three giant, tie-wearing bears called the Cuddle Crew to test and report on (one report question: “Please draw a picture of the future as you see it”). At home, George avoids a TV report about CDC findings on explosions for the hilariously dark “Mack Luster, MD, PD.”

But then, for some reason, a bird-boned Argentinian hottie with Pantene hair (Mia Maestro, as a character called, really, “Charisma”) is throwing herself at George. Wanting to make sure we Get It, the filmmakers provide a swirling montage of crucial scenes at a crucial plot point. Finally, the characters are forced to defend the filmmaker’s thesis. The wife screams, “I realized what no one is saying that all these people who are exploding are not sick, evil or dangerous. They are better than us, because they still feel something.”

There’s a time and a place for that kind of dialog — the 19 episodes of “My So-Called Life.” Nowhere else.

The couple proceeds to tear all their cereal and ice cream out of their beautifully appointed model kitchen in a Paula Abdul-ian pique. And George gets a special visit from the storied Mr. Jeffers — because as every disgruntled American knows, their problems are the most important and special cause in the whole, entire world.

For most of “Visioneers,” it’s easy to be in the same state of mind as its materially comfortable — yet quietly fearful — denizens, wondering, “Where is this all going?” That’s not the problem. The film would have worked more if the brothers Drake hadn’t answered that question. The good thing is, as rookies, they’ve got plenty of time to hone their powers of subtlety.

Ashley O’Dell reviews movies that aren’t in theaters anymore.