Don’t the Average Joes of the movies ever learn? In this case, we have John Moon (Sam Rockwell), a man who begins a day simply enough by going hunting and shooting a deer. With his rifle and scraggly beard, he could be a low-rent cousin of Robert De Niro in The Deer Hunter. Only problem is that he shoots, in a split-second accident, a young woman he doesn’t know. More of a problem is the large pile of cash that belonged to her. And a bigger problem still: he doesn’t report her death to the police. (Would they believe him?)

This could, however, be a blessing in disguise for Moon, or so he thinks. He could possibly use this money to pay for a lawyer—in this case, as I would think in any good crime story, one that is a bit sleazy and preferably with a toupee, and William H. Macy fits this bill really well (with a limp too, a nice touch). Now Moon can get back his estranged wife (Kelly Reilly) and infant son who have left him. She wants a divorce, but he doesn’t, so maybe the money can buy some time. What doesn’t help matters is that a very shady character, in the form of Jason Isaacs (unrecognizable from past roles, like The Patriot), is out to get the money. And somehow Moon’s usually inebriated friend Simon (Jeffrey Wright) may have a part in some of this stolen/illegal drug-connected loot. But really, in a story like this, where the money comes from isn’t quite as important as there being LOTS of it, and in the wrong hands.

If you are going to see the movie, know that it’s really, for the most part, the Sam Rockwell Showcase. And this is an especially good thing since he’s an actor who can convey a level of intelligence or make the audience empathize with his character, even if Moon makes some really dumb/misguided decisions. But Rockwell always plays Moon as a man of some integrity, certainly more than some of the lowlifes surrounding him.

The acting here, especially in the last reel as things become grim and even gory, ranks up with Rockwell’s best (Choke, the under-seen Snow Angels, Moon, and Seven Psychopaths), and it’s not quite like the others: Moon isn’t snarky, cynical or even all that crazy. He’s just a schmuck with too much to lose.

The other actors also help to elevate the movie, though Macy seems to disappear for a good chunk of the movie after a great introductory scene. Wright delivers a heartbreaking, totally smashed character, and really ups the ante for Rockwell through a pitiful demeanor, slurred speech, and an element of real danger. (When there’s a shotgun in the room, there’s drama.) The story has some of the requisite twists and turns, and some conventions that one may have not seen in a little while work—like the good ol’ “Hiding Behind the Closet Seeing Bad Guys Through Slats” bit—though it’s not a spectacular story. Maybe it takes its inspiration from the Coen brothers films (Fargo, No Country for Old Men) or Breaking Bad on TV, but some of it felt a little “been there done that.”

This isn’t to say director David Rosenthal doesn’t come up some moments of affecting cinematography or position a moment of simplicity for effect. When Moon stands around in the woods when he doesn’t know what he’s going to do about the money and the body (or the mounting bodies as the case happens to be), he flashes back to his wife when they were close, when he didn’t have the shaggy beard and looked like a rural scoundrel.  The music and the way the camera moves about the actors creates a strong passage for this character who’s trying to find some inner peace. Needless to say, most of A Single Shot is gripping stuff, and for this we can thank the ensemble. (To her credit, I didn’t even recognize Melissa Leo until I looked her up on IMDb.) It takes a lot to mold this kind of story into something more than a typical potboiler, but Rockwell achieves this, sometimes (and most effectively) by not seeming to do much at all while he’s really acting his ass off.