Unmade in China tells a story that is both entertaining and unsurprising, tracking the trials and tribulations of Gil Kofman, an American director (The Memory Thief) trying to make a movie in China with Chinese money and under Chinese government oversight. Suffice it to say, things do not go well. That probably does not come as a surprise to anyone who has any acquaintance with filmmaking, China, or anything, really. It certainly did not come as a surprise to Tanner King Barklow, who said he “could hear the train derailing in his head” when he heard about the project. He made the savvy choice to be present when it did.

When the train flies off the tracks, it does so with a mix of frustration and affability in a disaster that skews toward the comic rather than the tragic. A big part of that is due to Kofman, who exudes a relentlessly buoyant, goofy energy throughout the many mishaps. He’s a wonderful character, at once cartoonish and endearingly human. Even when tensions hit a fever pitch and he goes on the warpath, cursing into his phone at producers who refuse to pay him, he seems less like someone to be feared than to be hugged.

The film is a dual portrait of him and of a country that is both unthinkably foreign and eerily mundane. The grandest statements here are the Chinese proverbs displayed on title cards, a nice reminder that myth is something born out of the everyday. Despite the emotions at play, the actual stakes seem relatively low, and nobody appears terribly invested in the feature being made (a thriller called Case Sensitive, sadly not about typography) except as an experience and an adventure. Crew members drop out left and right, actors are recast by executives in the dark of night, and “The Gil,” as Kofman is known to the Chinese crew, compares the experience to that of being on the Titanic: He wants to “stick around to see it go down.”

The entire film also functions as a lucid insight into the state of the Chinese political machine, which is at once remarkably powerful and stupidly inefficient. It’s an interesting microcosm of a larger paradigm clash as well as a neat little allegory for the risks and rewards of international ambition. These tensions are further distilled into the different relationships on the set: a young, female DP is seemingly fired for having opinions; Kofman is unable to fire an unhelpful crew member because of nepotism.

The relationship between Barklow and Kofman—both credited as directors of this film—is both intriguing and under-explored. Kofman allows Barklow remarkable access into his life and the filmmaking process, whether out of friendship or foresight. Occasionally, that camera gets turned around on Barklow, who evinces an offbeat charisma and knack for pithy insights. Both of them give the impression of being at once skeptics and believers, simultaneously invested in the process and seeking insurance from its disasters. It’s a joy to watch them in both pursuits, and one of the most indelible takeaways from Unmade in China is this quixotic, admirable intertwining of ambition and folly.