“Momma's Man” is a beautiful, wise, poker-faced comedy of discombobulation. The writer-director, Azazel Jacobs, is the son of the New York avant-garde filmmaker Ken Jacobs, and what he's done is to merge his own life into fiction by casting his parents as the movie's parents and shooting nearly all of it in their ancient TriBeCa loft.

The supersized hole-in-the-wall turns out to be one of the most spectacularly vivid and eccentric movie sets I've ever seen. Divided into nooks, crannies, aisles, and cubicles, and jammed from floor to ceiling with books, records, toys, recording equipment and God knows what other multitudes of bric-a-brac, it's a packrat maze that's practically a city unto itself, and it becomes the landscape for a stirring tale of regeneration.

Mikey, played by Matt Boren, is quietly freaking out about the fact that he's a new daddy. On a business trip to New York, he stops off to visit his folks, and refuses to leave. He regresses, sorting through his kiddie memorabilia, phoning an old girlfriend, generally acting like a morose high school sophomore.

Jacobs's style recalls early Jim Jarmusch, only more so, and Ken and Flo Jacobs are a found-object comedy team -- the Nichols and May of wacked, monosyllabic New York bohemia. They are also authentically dear. Ken is like Harpo Marx aged into a gray-haired Marxist intellectual, and Flo, smothering her Mikey with love, is like a Modigliani come to life. Their every pricelessly awkward silence speaks a thousand loaded words.

With “Momma's Man,” Azazel Jacobs has done more than make another precious indie family quirkfest. He's created a true vision. What catches you by surprise is how moving the film is, as Mikey figures out that he doesn't have to "leave" his parents but instead become them.