Eric (Ben Petrie) is trying to write a film script. He’s been working on it for half a decade, but the plot isn’t cohesive enough. Suddenly, his girlfriend Allie (Grace Glowicki) says she’s determined to get a dog, which alarms him as a “consequentialist”. The longer they spend discussing the intricacies of pet ownership, the more he sees his film being “directed” in front of his very eyes. As it happens, the pet becomes a metaphor for their relationship, leading to conversations about rearing children in their 30s.

We witness a a fragile exhibition of adulthood in the throes of Covid. The duo share a believable romance, thrusting viewers headfirst into a world of uncertainty and reckless abandon. It’s the fear of boredom that keeps this particular courtship afloat. Of the two performances, Petrie has the harder task: Eric is a man of consideration and even temper, reluctant to entertain the whims of his partner without giving it serious and considered thought. It would be very easy to turn him into a villainous caricature, but Petrie grounds his character with gravitas. There is a touch of melancholy, laced with fun. Eric is the sort of boyfriend that a woman wouldn’t necessarily fantasise about, but is happy to engage with. Petrie’s script is rife with authenticity, largely because it is based in part on his life.

Glowicki’s Allie has the zingier lines. “I’m 32 years old,” she cries, pointing to the eggs that are rotting inside her. Glowicki brings an energy that’s comparable to a tango dancer; zipping effortlessly across the room. Allie’s extremely pretty and bouncy, which makes it harder for Eric to decline her wishes to collect a pet called Millie. “I’m still not a yes,” he highlights, suggesting that his work on the script takes some precedence to any hobbies. Allie finds the pet’s predilection for urine adorable; Eric’s cynicism is more apparent.

But the longer they gaze at the animal, the greater the affection grows between them.

The Heirloom partly works as a romcom. It is effective as a romantic drama. When the two protagonists look at each other, love is reflected in their eyes. No one could fake this level of sincerity: this is the genuine gaze of two artists who like spending time with one another. If there’s a strength to the work, it’s the affection. The romance balances out the “peeing” jokes, because it resolves to create something tender and frail. Audiences rarely see this type of sincerity in an everyday rom-com: one of the key strengths of this particular production. Gross gags are only fleeting; good acting is eternal.

On the other hand, The Heirloom lacks a little bite, and does not entirely work as a comedy. Some of the jokes misfire. Grace Glowicki plays a character who barks, moans and jumps like an animal she hopes to purchase. Unlike the similarly themed Cat Call (by Rozália Szeleczki; also premiering at Raindance), this feature doesn’t aim for farce, which makes it harder to digest some of the more ludicrous performances throughout (case in point: the girlfriend looks euphoric as her body is licked by a pooch). A recurring motif – a boisterous, booming voice relaying Eric’s inner thoughts – simply falls flat every time it is executed.

The Heirloom premieres at the 32nd Raindance Film Festival.