The best way I know of to ruin a vacation to this or that version of “paradise” — Aspen, Teneriffe, Curacao or Cozumel — is to make yourself see what the tourist websites don’t play up.

People are struggling no matter where you go. And once you notice the tourist advisories of neighborhoods to avoid in Kingston or Panama City, the Homestead, Fla. buses that drive service sector workers into too-pricey-to Key West every day, those cooks and hotel workers who could never afford to live in Aspen, the campers outside the city limits, it’s hard for most sentient beings to not feel empathy and guilt for the struggles of people most of us see as “a few bad breaks and that could be me.”

“Waikiki” is an impressionistic nightmare of paradise, a dreamy story troubled, struggling native-born singer and dancer hustling three jobs in one of the most beautiful places on Earth, where “rent” is a goal that’s forever just beyond her reach.

The first film written and directed by a native Hawaiian addresses the underbelly of a place the rest of the world sees as an idealized “escape.” In Christopher Kahunanhana’s movie, there’s no “escaping” to Waikiki Beach for many of the residents of Oahu.

For Kea (Danielle Zalopany), his heroine, the beach never figures into her life. She’s a hula dancer at a tourist trap restaurant far from the surf, and a karaoke singer/”bottle girl” at a somewhat seedy bar. She also teaches Hawaiian to at a local school.

Even with those three gigs, she can’t make rent, let alone support herself. So she lives in an ancient Toyota van. Kea holes up there because she fled her raging, abusive longtime beau Branden (Jason Quinn). And despite being young and beautiful with a work ethic and a little talent, there’s no escaping this trap for her. She grew up on one of the most expensive places to live on in America, an island.

There’s nothing for it but to don the skirt and bikini top and smile through another night to the syrupy, insipid hula strains of “Waikiki.”

But her after-hula gig at the borderline brothel-bar named for it’s owner (Cora Yamagata) Amy is where Branden catches up and lashes out. He’s hellbent on getting her out of this “slut bar” and “home.” And life-on-the-edge or no, Kea isn’t having it.

But making her getaway, she makes her biggest mistake of all. She hits a homeless man. Her rock bottom just found a new bottom.

The man seems dead, just a “pilau” (filthy) “crackhead.” Still, Kea won’t simply abandon him. Maybe she’s thinking twince before looking down on anybody. In no time at all, she’s out on the street with the homless man her only comfort, camping in the rough and getting turned down for housing by a barely sympathetic real estate agent.

Without legit paystubs and proof of steady income, “You’re not going to qualify for anything.”

There are hints of “Once Were Warriors” and the nightmarish dreams-in-close-up of David Lynch in Kahunanhana’s film, as we wonder about this homeless fellow named Wo (Peter Shinkoda) Kea has taken responsibility for, and thinks herself protected by.

Flashbacks show her childhood abandonment issues, and there are hints of a “family” she denies having. We aren’t sure which of her hallucinations to believe, which are accurate about the exact nature of this strange man in her care.

Zalopany’s riveting performance has desperation, manipulation, narcissism and panic folded into it. She makes us feel the disaster that having her van towed is for someone living in a car. We sense the pride that makes but a momentary appearance, the rage she can barely keep in check, the trap that her abusive relationship continues to be and the need that drives her begging and flirting with people who can help her out.

The dreamy, diffuse nature of reality in this narrative makes it feel incomplete. But Zalopany grabs our attention and has us fearing, not just for Kea’s precarious hold on survival, but for what we might not know about her that may or may not be revealed as she sinks or swims just off “Waikiki” beach.

Rating: unrated violence, profanity

Cast: Danielle Zalopany, Peter Shinkoda, Cora Yamagata and Jason Quinn

Credits: Scripted and directed by Christopher Kahunahana. A Level 33 release.

Running time: 1:24