You might not think a film that opens with a bank heist gone bad during a water riot in future-dystopia LA would turn out to be a tender-hearted relationship drama, but pay attention: among the first things we see star Jodie Foster do are take a drink and look mournfully at a framed photo of a little boy. Then it’s off to work staffing the titular hotel, a fabulous and dim Art Deco ruin — its rooms (and their residents) named for the exotic destinations painted on the walls (Nice, Acapulco, etc.) — that provides medical services to folks who can’t go to regular hospitals on account of the cops. Speaking of cops, they aren’t allowed inside; that’s one of the rules, along with things like “No killing the other patients,” that keeps the place going. But as the joint’s owner notes, rulebreakers are the Artemis’ going concern. The characters are stock: Foster’s quippy wounded healer, Charlie Day’s motor-mouthed little big shot, Sterling K. Brown’s dutiful older brother, etc. But interior complexity isn’t the point in a one-crazy-night genre outing like this; what matters is the reaction produced when these known quantities get placed in an unstable environment and shaken up. The result is maybe less spectacular than expected — there are some weird fizzles instead of pops here and there — but it’s still intriguing to behold. You might even feel something. Drew Pearce writes and directs. (2017) — Matthew Lickona