What, you might ask, is Jon Hamm doing in the new film by Joachim Back, “Corner Office,” a picture that all but dares the audience to withstand its dry-as-dust longueurs? Even moviegoers who take pleasure in the most affected precincts of indiedom will likely wonder just what it was that drew Mr. Hamm to this neo-Kafkaesque meditation on corporate life. 

Reports are already coming in that it’s the actor’s attempt to undo his turn as Don Draper, the self-possessed, if sometimes troubled, advertising executive of AMC’s “Mad Men.” In “Corner Office,” Mr. Hamm is Orson, an office drone who is alternately cagey and flatfooted, ambitious and paranoid. He’s ill at ease socializing and resolute in his stolidity. A bad haircut, an overbearing mustache, and an off-the-rack wardrobe are attempts at downplaying the cocksure appeal that brought Mr. Hamm to stardom.

Mr. Hamm has appeared in mainstream pictures like “The Town,” “Richard Jewell,” and last year’s “Top Gun: Maverick,” but he’s also been seen in more idiosyncratic, one almost wants to say “shadier,” fare. He’s proved to be adept at comedy — his appearances on “Comedy Bang! Bang!,” “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” and “Between Two Ferns” are all keepers — and not only starred in, but served as executive producer on, “Marjorie Prime” (2017), among the finest science fiction films in recent memory. 

What kind of film is “Corner Space?” It’s a tight-lipped amalgam of impulses that are both willfully abstruse and blaringly obvious. The screenplay was adapted by Ted Kupper from “The Room,” a short story by a Swedish actor and author, Jonas Karlsson. Although the film is pegged as a comedy, it doesn’t occasion much in the way of laughter. There’s magical thinking afoot in its convolutions, as well as satire of a rather knowing sort. The former is, as you might imagine, more appealing than the latter.

Having not read Mr. Karlsson’s story, I can’t vouchsafe for how much of the voiceover narration is lifted from the original text. Can Mr. Kupper be commended for the surprising elisions that take place between Orson’s thoughts and the consequences of his actions? We’re kept on our toes throughout “Corner Space” as to the relative delusion or perversity of Mr. Hamm’s character. Ridiculing the pushing of paper is a shopworn tack; bringing a degree of ambiguity to the ridicule is more diverting.

Orson is a new hire at a firm of unknown purpose whose title is — yes, really — The Authority. Although we don’t see much of the outside world during “Corner Office,” what we do see is depressingly mundane, such as a parking lot filled with cars, or outlandishly grandiose: the building in which our characters work is a Brutalist nightmare forever shrouded in clouds. Otherwise, we’re confined to windowless interiors that are gray, uniform, and anonymous.

Or maybe not. On his way to the restroom one morning, Orson encounters a closed door. Looking left and then right, he surreptitiously turns the knob and enters into an encompassing office that may be the film’s most overt reference to “Mad Men.” Talk about luxury: The title room is a marvel of wood paneling, artistic sophistication, windows on the world, and, ultimately, a sanctuary where Orson is able to think, innovate, and prove himself an invaluable asset to The Authority. So how come no one else sees the room?

Tensions accumulate between Orson and his colleagues, his boss (Christopher Heyerdahl) and Alyssa (Sarah Gadon), his potential paramour. He invites the latter into the corner office and, before you know it, Orson and Alyssa are dancing within the most picturesque of snowfalls, a Disney-esque blur of romantic longing. They look at each other; they kiss. Upon their return to the hallway, Alyssa turns her back on Orson. The next morning she makes plain her concern: “Were you on drugs?”

“Corner Office” is, for all intents and purposes, an episode of “The Twilight Zone” masquerading as “The Trial” — that is to say, a moralist brief stretched to an hour and 40 minutes. A lot of thought went into it, that’s for sure, and the cast can be commended for selling the narrow range of neuroses they’ve been saddled with. 

Yet if it weren’t for Mr. Hamm at the forefront, the picture would collapse under its avant coquettishness. There are better vehicles for an actor aiming to shine, but until Mr. Hamm lands his talents elsewhere, this picture will have to do.