The human dark cloud churning violently over “Where’d You Go, Bernadette” doesn’t much fit in anywhere, including in this comedy of crisis. That’s more or less intentional, but it presents a challenge for the director Richard Linklater, whose easygoing filmmaking style and vibe can feel out of sync with the gathering storm.

Cate Blanchett plays our cloud, a lapsed architect living unhappily, and volubly so, in Seattle. You might think the city’s brooding skies would please Bernadette; certainly they offset her clothing’s moody palette, her dark regrettable bob and the sunglasses she hides behind, Garbo-like. She looks like a film star at a junket hunting for an exit or someone in witness protection. She’s in seclusion, in a way, though it takes a while for the obvious to surface: Bernadette is hiding from herself.

The story doesn’t so much commence as sidle in with modest, loosely staged and played scenes filled with minor calamities and seemingly unfreighted exchanges . There’s a family, a dog, some neighbors, a car in the drive, the usual. Except that everything is a touch skewed, including the family’s house, a magnificently leaky sprawl that, like Bernadette, is a demanding presence in its own right. Like her, too, it telegraphs a specific, casual privilege, the kind where just-so peeling walls are meant to create visual interest, expressing a sensibility instead of an undone domestic chore.

It’s generally pleasant hanging out with Bernadette. Her husband, Elgie (Billy Crudup), is similarly nice to look at. ( He must be the handsomest genius at Microsoft.) He’s cool-uncool, at ease in the world yet removed from it. Linklater is good at quick introductions, and when you first see Elgie he’s leaning over his laptop in the kitchen, wearing a heart-rate monitor that Bernadette sharply plucks from the back as she swans by, like a high-school meanie snapping a bra. It happens fast — Elgie quickly stands up straight — and conveys something not yet identifiable about them.