It’s bad form, we have repeatedly been cautioned, to judge a book by its cover, but can one judge a film by its intertitles? After a typical array of flashy production credits, “Here,” the new film by Belgian director Bas Davos, reiterates that information with small, non-declarative type conspicuously situated toward the upper left of the blackened screen. A dedication, “For Eric,” follows in the same location and at the same scale.

When the movie’s title appears three minutes in, it is placed toward the bottom of the screen in lowercase letters with the “r” reversed. The usage of typography should be part and parcel of a movie’s aesthetic, and anti-ostentatious design needn’t be a sign of affectation. Yet much like the trend of not using capital letters when citing one’s proper name, there can be a coyness, a self-regarding préciosité, to the flouting of commonplaces.

Mr. Davos’s softly stated titles are indicative of the aesthetic he brings to his cinematic endeavors. He’s not as arch as Wes Anderson, nor is he as mannered as Apichatpong Weerasethakul: Mr. Davos is gentler than both, but he shares with them a notion of filmmaking that underscores contrivance at the diminition of narrative. This is another way of saying that the story in “Here” wanders. It’s a movie so laconic it can’t help but prompt frustration.

There is a story in “Here” — a pretty good one, too. It’s a film about emigres that’s also about human connection and, perhaps, love, though the latter takes its time coming to any sort of fruition. 

The film begins with the camera doting on a construction site in a desultory corner of Brussels, after which we are introduced to Stefan (Stefan Gota), a worker who is getting ready for an upcoming holiday break. He’ll be going to Romania on a family visit. Stefan’s first priority before leaving: emptying the fridge.

Gathering together odds-and-sods that haven’t yet spoiled, Stefan makes a pot of soup and distributes portions to his friends, his mechanic, and his sister. Strolling through the city for miles on end, he’s notable not only for the ever-present container of soup, but a pair of shorts that displays a distinct lack of savoir faire. When visiting his sister Anca (Alina Constantin), Stefan intimates that he might not return to Brussels after his trip.

Even the best laid plans of someone as noncommittal as Stefan are worth taking with a grain of salt. This isn’t the case with Shuxiu (Liyo Gong), a young Belgian woman of Chinese descent, and a professor of botany at an unnamed college. Before we see Shuxiu, we hear her voice. The young woman’s thoughts filter over the soundtrack, waxing philosophically upon waking from a deep sleep: “The names of things came back, like a wave crashing over me.”

Greenery figures heavily in “Here,” and not just the array of mosses that Shuxiu, a trained bryologist, extracts samples from in a public park. Mr. Davos punctuates the film with long takes of leaves and bushes and trees and foliage through which light keens and breezes blow. What this all connotes is hard to discern. In the accompanying press materials, Mr. Davos frets about an “ailing planet,” but his static panoramas of the natural world feel less like poetry and more like padding.

Mr. Davos, who also wrote the screenplay, is more generous with Shuxiu as a character, creating a woman of scope, ambition and kindness. Stefan, in contrast, is an enigma bordering on a cipher. When the two inadvertently cross paths, not once but twice, we can’t help but cheer on their wary friendship even as we’re left to wonder what it is, exactly, the discerning professor sees in the rootless Romanian. Mr. Gota coasts too much on affectlessness to break out of the movie’s languor. 

Say this much for “Here”: the quiet congeniality of its ending strikes a welcome chord, largely through the efforts of Ms. Gong. Here’s hoping that this engaging young actress’s next venture is as rounded and sure as she is.