Michael Smiley in Tollbooth (Samuel Goldwyn Films)

Not much happens in the Welsh town where Tollbooth is set. It is more or less in the middle of nowhere, where everyone knows one another. Catrin (Annes Elwy), a cop, spends much of her time camped out on a desolate road with a radar gun—she points it at a friendly man on a bicycle to let him know if his speed has improved from the day before. Each person stands out with sharp defining quirks, whether it is the blind man who recites the plot of The Shawshank Redemption or the ambulance driver who likes to sit in his truck without wearing pants.

Overall, there is much more open space than buildings, and it doesn’t seem like such a bad place for Brendan (Michael Smiley) to lay low. He operates a tollbooth, a building that serves to emphasize the emptiness that surrounds it, and reads Stoner by John Williams, a 1965 book in which, according to Brendan, not much happens in the protagonist’s life (“it’s brilliant,” he says). The quiet is something he wants.

However, all is not so simple. For one, Brendan comes with a dark past, and has somehow made it his business to have everyone in town in his pocket—they’re all a little afraid of him. Secondly, a gangster (Gary Beadle) from his previous life stumbles across him. This man has a score to settle with Brendan, and makes a quick call to his superiors to let them know that the troublemaker has finally been found. Naturally, the new arrival must be disposed of if Brendan is to stay safe.

Told in a jumbled order, the film begins when Brendan calls a reluctant Catrin into his tollbooth to explain his predicament. It is not so easy to get a straight story out of him, and the cop has to force him to repeat his story, and her patience wears thin; she’s had a long day. He lies, for instance, about a robbery that he recently experienced, initially covering up his own more devious motives. The culprits, teen triplets (all played by Gwyneth Keyworth), are notorious local troublemakers who have finally started trying their hand at armed robbery, hoping to secure followers on Instagram, and they target the tollbooth. All these elements, when mixed together, result in a bloodbath.

There is certainly potential here. The isolated Welsh setting, with the small-town intimacy and the anger toward the English, offers the possibility for thematic depth which the filmmakers neglect to fully explore. The location is used mostly as a source of comedy, which is fine, but even there the results are forced, with characters that seem too artificially quirky even for a comedy and dialogue that is often more expositional than anything else. Many of the jokes are not especially clever (a smuggler brings a shipment of “eye pads” instead of “iPads,” for instance).

Nevertheless, the film hums along and is well paced, holding viewers’ attention more or less. If the script is deficient, the actors are not. Elwy delivers a fine performance with emotional depth, even if her dialogue is often too expositional and hackneyed. Smiley is believable, with both expert timing and an effective poker-face, while Keyworth is admirably boisterous and indignant in her three performances. Really, there is not a weak link in the cast, even if there are many weak lines of dialogue.