We’ve all received them: Emails from friends, co-workers, classmates or family members with subject lines screaming, “THIS IS THE FUNNIEST THING EVER!!” Opening the message usually reveals a news story detailing some tragic folly that has befallen someone due to his or her own misguided, thoughtless, and often downright stupid, actions.

“Teen receives third-degree burns after shooting bottle rocket from his rectum.”

“Man hospitalized after being hit by car playing real-life Frogger in traffic.”

“Student crushed beneath vending machine while trying to shake loose a free soda.”

The stories immediately produce a chuckle, if not a belly laugh, based on their degree of ridiculousness. The laughs come with a tinge of guilt, though, as pain and death usually factor into these tales to some degree. Consciences are quickly cleared, though, since finding humor in the misfortune of others is now an international sport. The popularity of America’s Funniest Home Videos, Jackass and The Darwin Awards can attest to that.

But what about the poor lot featured in these stories? They are still people with lives and families. And they must forever live in the shadows of others’ laughter thanks to bad (or dumb) luck. The jokes aren’t funny to them.

In Memoriam, a fine, locally produced dramedy opening this weekend at the Gene Siskel Film Center, confronts this scenario head-on.

The film follows the events that ensue after improv actor Jonathan (Ian Forester) receives one of the aforementioned emails from a friend detailing a tragedy that occurred at his alma mater. The message tells of two students — a young couple, to be precise — who fell to their deaths from a dormitory roof, after having climbed up there to have sex. They died naked and drunk.

Unlike his friends who find the email hilarious, Jonathan is severely shaken by the news. He soon becomes obsessed with it. Plastering his apartment walls with related photos and clippings leads to seeking out the dead couple’s friends and family. He becomes convinced that there’s more to their deaths; that is wasn’t merely a random event.

The depth of Jonathan’s obsession disturbs his friends, the affected families and the woman who pines for him. The realization that he’s sinking into unknown, potentially harmful water leads Jonathan to an epiphany: He will make a movie about the events leading up to the pair’s deaths to humanize the tragedy, with those tangentially involved starring as themselves. The production proves cathartic for all.

In Memoriam gets off to a promising, but shaky start. Jonathan’s slow unraveling is incredibly intriguing. The cause for his obsession is never quite pinpointed and it results in many uncomfortable moments between him and everyone with whom he interacts. Unfortunately, the film’s interjected comedic moments never quite hit their mark, stifling the tension and allowing the film to meander when it should bite.

When Jonathan begins production on his film, In Memoriam finds focus, though.

Re-enacting the minutia of the pair’s last moments through the rehearsal and filming process allows everyone impacted by the tragedy to confront it (and their own mortality) head-on. It’s a communal act of mourning and acceptance that soon morphs into a celebration of life.

Filmmaker Stephan Cone directs these sequences with care and ingenuity. Presenting the tragedy as a film-within-a-film, he allows the audience both to experience Jonathan’s cinematic vision and to witness the love, laughter and friendship that filled the doomed couple’s day before their tragic fall. A dark foreboding hangs above it all, but it is overpowered by life. When the inevitable does occur, it’s interpreted with an unexpected poetic beauty that impacts viewers both on-screen and off.