Zack Gottsagen, left, and Shia LaBeouf in The Peanut Butter Falcon (Seth Johnson/Roadside Attractions/Armory Films)

On the surface, the plot of The Peanut Butter Falcon seems like another cliché-laden Mark Twain rip-off. And indeed, the material in the first act is suspiciously close to the surface, bordering at times on patronization.

A young man with Down syndrome, Zak, played with electrifying gusto by Zack Gottsagen, runs away from a nursing home to fulfill his dream of becoming a professional wrestler. Along the way, he meets a rugged itinerant fisherman, Tyler (a heartwarming Shia LaBeouf), on the run from his own troubles, and the two develop a bond that will shape the rest of their lives forever.

But first-time writer and director duo Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz are aware of the sensitivity surrounding the subject matter. The script carefully caters to Zack’s performance without coming across as forced. This is not least because Gottsagen is an incredibly gifted and eye-catching performer who brilliantly counters the genre’s intrinsic limitations. Thankfully, Tyler is not here to be anybody’s savior, nor is Zak merely a tool to teach our able-bodied protagonist. Eventually, the film progresses into a series of twists and turns that exceed eye-rolling expectations.

This is primarily because of the performers’ chemistry. LaBeouf and Gottsagen make a great duo, and Dakota Johnson, as a social worker named Eleanor who is tasked with finding Zak after he escapes the home, adds a refreshing perspective to the mix. At first, she’s introduced condescendingly—as a college-educated, ambitious young female professional who is way over her head and who doesn’t understand how the tough, twangy existence of rural life really works. But even this trope is slightly overturned. Eleanor provides valuable commentary, and is written with sincere street smarts.

Then there is the economically barren backdrop of the film’s location, the rural Georgia landscape, standing in for the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Cinematographer Nigel Bluck beautifully captures the nuances of this backwater—abandoned and decrepit shacks, overly priced gas station convenience stores, unfinished construction sites, and the hollowed-eyed residents who inhabit them—that evoke a sense of hopelessness, which renders our protagonists’ buoyant vigor even more powerfully. These figures are rebelling not so much against a particular authority but against hopelessness itself.

If you’re looking for a poignant but somewhat straightforward (and, at times, generic) story line, The Peanut Butter Falcon will give you all the catharsis you’ll need. The performances, setting, and cinematography lend the film a surprising degree of novelty. By the end, you may find yourself traveling on a familiar road but nevertheless enjoying the company you had along the way.