However gritty this indie comedy may look (cinematographer Steve Calitri seems to be aping William Eggleston’s photographs of the American south), it isn’t all that different from an Adam Sandler vehicle: writer-director Robbie Pickering spends much of the movie mocking his characters’ stupidity, then pulls an about-face with a sentimental conclusion that feels unearned. After a Texas man suffers a life-threatening stroke, his wife (Rachel Harris), a devout evangelical Christian, decides to track down the son who was conceived 25 years earlier from his donated sperm. The son (Matt O’Leary) turns out to be an angry, foul-mouthed ex-con; if you’re tickled by the idea of a bible-thumper gasping in shock when someone curses, Pickering’s got you covered.