Helen Hunt’s new film, much like its star and director, is a slow burn. The story of a lonely woman confronted with the betrayal of her husband, her mother, and her God, “Then She Found Me” flirts with cinematic cliché but finds surprising rewards in its idiosyncratic story.

The film gets off to a sluggish start by dropping the audience into the lonely life of Ms. Hunt’s character. April Epner, an unhappy elementary school teacher, desperately wants a baby. Adopted into a Jewish family, April narrates a Jewish proverb over images from her wedding to the teacher down the hallway (Matthew Broderick). At 39, it looks as though her chances of motherhood are growing slim. Then her husband leaves her. The next day, her adoptive mother dies.

But once she finds herself alone without a mother, a husband, or any hope of a child, April’s life starts looking up. Soon her garrulous birth mother, Bernice (Bette Midler), seeks her out; then she begins an affair with the ultimate cinematic partner, Colin Firth (as a beleaguered single dad named Frank).

And yet the troubles in April’s life persist. Bernice is selfish and abrasive (in a toned-down performance from Ms. Midler) — not the mother April pictured for herself. And once she thinks she has found the man of her dreams, she finally gets pregnant — with her ex-husband’s baby.

The achievement of “Then She Found Me,” Ms. Hunt’s directorial debut, is in its reaction to these events. The film has its share of contrived moments. The timing of events is nearly implausible, and Bernice’s method of finding April is mostly absurd. And when Mr. Firth appears in April’s classroom the first time, it’s hard to imagine that April’s love problems will continue for long. His monologue on their first date is the kind of heartrending speech restricted to the realm of romantic drama.

But for all its well-crafted words, the film does an excellent job of depicting the poorly conceived events that occur in life. Starting from an almost-perfect formula for romantic comedy, “Then She Found Me” avoids a trite wrap-up by rejoicing in messiness. Scenes of fighting and sex are often stilted, confused, and rushed, a fact that begins to work in the film’s favor as it demonstrates its dedication to the disorder of life.

It is easy for April (and the audience) to attribute her early disappointments to the absence of a shining knight, but as her lot improves and the problems continue, the film’s philosophy shifts. April carefully measures her life in teaspoons, just to see it spilled out and set ablaze time after time. When she realizes she has the capacity to betray as well, the story starts getting somewhere.

Ms. Hunt has spent nearly the entirety of the past decade out of the spotlight, trying to adapt Elinor Lipman’s book for the screen. Her role plumbs some of the same territory as her Oscar-winning performance in 1997’s “As Good As It Gets,” proving her skill with desperate, lonely women. But whereas her fragile screen presence sometimes borders on the histrionic, she quietly displays April’s obsessions and introversions with a precise aptitude. She embodies this role fully, with her worn appearance underscoring April’s counterintuitive control issues and her passive beauty.

It helps that Ms. Hunt’s devotion to this project has rewarded her with a quality ensemble of stars. Along with the stunt casting of Salman Rushdie as her gynecologist, Ms. Hunt has surrounded herself with big-name actors whose skills eventually overcome the marquee justification for their roles. Ms. Midler takes to her role with such ease that it’s hard to imagine a stint as a morning talk-show host isn’t on her résumé somewhere, while Mr. Broderick’s turn as April’s schlubby husband, like his role as a pitiful high-school teacher in “Election,” holds a strangely passive allure. As for Mr. Firth, once the peculiarity of his presence among these mortals passes, he can do no wrong as an on-screen love interest.

Ms. Hunt’s script (with the help of Alice Arlen and Victor Levin) has changed the events related in Ms. Lipman’s novel, but it retains a similarly witty approach to difficult subjects, resulting in an often weepy but nonetheless humorous account of this character’s life that distances itself from the wallowing self-pity that the plot description might predict. If it takes Ms. Hunt 10 years to make a quality film, then we can wait around a while for the next one.

mkeane@nysun.com