When the titular characters in “Ali & Ava” meet officially for the first time, the setting is so mundane viewers might not realize that the moment is charged with romance. 

The scene starts in a school parking lot, where Ali arrives to pick up his niece while rain pounds down. Ava, a teacher’s assistant, waits until the little girl sprints to Ali’s vehicle and is safely within, and then begins her walk to the bus station for her journey home. The wind soon turns her umbrella inside out, and Ali implores her to join them in his car. What ensues as he drives them home — swearing at a bad driver, turning on the car’s stereo, asking questions about musical preferences, picking up some other children whom Ava knows — is nothing less than a brief but charming first date.

So begins the relationship of two middle-aged people with complicated pasts who live in a city in northern England. Incidents transpire to prevent them from being together, not to mention that Ava is of Irish descent and lives in a rough and tumble neighborhood, while Ali is a British Asian living in a heavily Muslim area. If it doesn’t sound like a great recipe for romance, still the characters manage to create something heartwarming and hopeful — and the same could be said of the movie.

Despite a potentially combustible dramatic outline, director Clio Barnard maintains a pensive, observational tone throughout “Ali & Ava,” with shots of clotheslines, plumes of steam coming from factories, and slightly swaying playground swings. The proverbial kitchen sink of kitchen sink drama is incorporated as well — seen several times in the first 10 minutes alone — along with such elements as a bipolar best friend, black boots associated with the far-right National Front, and even, surprisingly, horse-drawn carts.

We’re in the realm of realism, and yet it’s not without its poetic moments. A few times, this lyrical quality usurps the real, as when Ava speaks to her son about her relationship with Ali but we don’t hear what she says because the moment is filmed from a distance at an outdoor party, with the flames of a fire pit lining the bottom of the shot. There’s also the elision of how Ali explains his relationship with Ava to his close-knit family. Yet these are rare, self-consciously obscure missteps in a movie that embraces detailed naturalism, plain-spoken dialogue, and organic mise-en-scène.

Another element that builds on the layers of plot and atmosphere to create a convincingly modern milieu is the use of diegetic music. The characters listen to many different kinds of music during the movie, from rap and folk to ska and country, sweeping the viewer in with the songs’ various emotions. These emotions are perfectly reflected in the performances of the actors, particularly the leads, Claire Rushbrook and Adeel Akhtar. 

One can’t help but fall in love with Ms. Rushbrook, with her far-away stares and down-to-earth demeanor. The charismatic Mr. Akhtar breathes life into even the most everyday of utterances, infusing his scenes with humor and a palpable sense of unpredictability. 

These actors embody selfless souls who may be too good to be true, but we want to believe they exist and therefore we root for them all the way.