Director Eric Rohmer, now 88 years young, has suggested that his 2007 film “The Romance of Astrea and Celadon” may be his last. If so, it’s a fitting send-off. While this soaring tale of flawed eternal love is not exactly the director’s most compelling work, it certainly does build to a finale in which the heroes both succeed and fail, allowing the hopeless romantic behind the camera the chance to have his cake and eat it, too.

Standing far apart from today’s relativistic romantic comedies, in which men and women debate their love and question their emotions until there’s little left, “Astrea and Celadon,” which receives its New York premiere theatrical run this week at Anthology Film Archives, is an unapologetically utopian view of untainted love. Based on the 17th-century novel by Honoré d’Urfé about fifth-century Gaul, the movie centers on a lover who remains faithful to a pledge, perhaps to a fault. His name is Celadon (Andy Gillet), and it is with his declaration that “I will drown myself at once” that the story’s conventional romantic arc comes to a dead halt, replaced by a far more peculiar tale of honor run amok.

The object of his affections is Astrea (Stéphanie Crayencour), a shepherdess who is fooled by one of her prospective suitors to believe that Celadon, her true love, is flirting with another. She confronts him, demanding that he leave her sight, never to return. Crushed by his loss, Celadon pronounces his impending suicide, assuring Astrea that she will never see him again. When his suicide attempt along a riverbank fails, he finds himself awoken by a group of giggling nymphs who have found him drifting downriver and committed themselves to nursing him back to health.

At the core of “Astrea and Celadon” are questions of loyalty and fidelity. Where a typical modern romance would send Celadon running back into the arms of a concerned Astrea, Mr. Rohmer twists the concepts of forgiveness and honor until they are barely discernible. Despite surviving the river with his love intact, Celadon is unswerving in his commitment never to pursue Astrea again. Is it honorable to keep such a promise? Is it mere egoism and stubbornness? Meanwhile, back upstream, a distraught Astrea prays for her lover’s return.

The events and motives at play are at once noble and silly, proud but misguided. Were Celadon to reappear, Astrea would welcome him with open arms. But Mr. Rohmer’s colorfully utopian vision of heaven on Earth, where the laws of man seem of secondary concern, appears devoted to d’Urfé’s notion that remaining true to one’s word is of paramount importance.

Not that this philosophical debate makes for riveting filmmaking. More than one reviewer could be spied dozing off when the film screened prior to last year’s New York Film Festival. While that’s not necessarily a criticism — the film’s tranquil, dreamlike aesthetics are soothing, to say the least — the film definitely lacks the glue to hold audiences to the screen. Instead, the painterly scenes of meadows and cathedrals, often filmed in static wide-screen, invite us to get lost in their otherworldly beauty. And thanks to Mr. Rohmer’s rigorous avoidance of close-ups, we don’t so much identify with Celadon or Astrea as regard them as archetypes in a moralistic conundrum.

Given the dynamics in place, with two lovers committing themselves to lonely lives, Mr. Rohmer could have easily rerouted the story toward a tragic resolution. The more Celadon defends his life of celibacy, both rebuffing other women and avoiding Astrea out of respect for true love, the darker his corner of the world becomes. But the director opts to embrace the notion that love will find a way. In a plot twist that mirrors Celadon’s silliness — he is primarily presented as stubborn and foolish rather than principled — another character orchestrates a way for the lonely lover to pose as a woman and be near Astrea without her recognizing him.

Upending the notion of identity — both personal and sexual — the “female” Celadon lingers close to Astrea, and she in turn begins to fall in love with him-her. Is Celadon violating his oath when Astrea starts making sexual advances? Is Astrea hoping that this really is Celadon, or is she satisfied with the thought that this woman can take her ex’s place?

It is a long and winding road that leads to this provocative and unsettling plateau, and there’s not quite enough clout to the poetry to keep the film moving. But if this is indeed Mr. Rohmer’s final work, one must give him credit for simultaneously embracing and rejecting the devices of classical romance. “The Romance of Astrea and Celadon” is serene and sublime, but somewhere in the background, we can feel a veteran director still wrestling with the basic human idea of love.

ssnyder@nysun.com

“The Romance of Astrea and Celadon” runs between Wednesday and August 20 at Anthology Film Archives (32 Second Ave., between 1st and 2nd streets, 212-505-5181).