A suitably gorgeous original score from Grégoire Hetzel, performed with authentic brilliance by four actors who are also classical musicians, is the highlight of this gentle French comedy from Grégory Magne. A hymn to the power of collaboration and the joy of performance, The Musicians approaches the sublime during some spellbinding musical moments, yet otherwise feels like something of a pleasant trifle.

Astrid (Valérie Donzelli) is an heiress hoping to fulfill her late father’s dream of uniting four different Stradivirius for a one-off string quartet performance. When the cello becomes available the dream becomes a possibility. She just needs to get the four virtuoso from her father’s wishlist on board. The problem? Getting them in the same room is enough of a struggle, let alone getting them to rehearse.

Astrid’s efforts to corral the quartet into musical harmony are met with the expected clash of egos and resentments. Cellist Lise (Marie Vialle) has romantic history with veteran violinist Peter (Daniel Garlitsky), and hearts were broken; while younger, brasher violinist George (Mathieu Spinosi) has issues with social media superstar violist Apolline’s (Emma Ravier) lack of music school training. She has her own insecurities about this, despite being every bit as talented. Astrid’s decides to enlist the composer of the pieces the quartet shall be playing, Charlie Beaumont (a wise, world-weary Frédéric Pierrot). His attempts to mould the group into the world class unit their skills suggest they should be provides the bulk of the drama.

Drama may be overstating the case here. Even in the moments of its strongest conflict, the stakes remain resolutely low. Beyond that, the motivations behind Astrid’s determination to honour her father are obscure. We hear nothing about the man, nor her relationship to him. With that context missing, the story is rather solipsistic. This isn’t merely First World problems, but those of the 0.01% of the 1%. It’s difficult to sufficiently invest in the struggles of someone who can invest £10.5m (pre-VAT, according to one of the funnier lines) on a cello.

And yet, when it comes together it works. There are fewer greater joys than watching a group of musicians come together and create magic. It hits some node deep in the soul, something ritualistic, and Magne taps into it. This is exemplified in a wonderful scene during a blackout. Peter spontaneously picks up his violin and begins to play a haunting, plaintive version of the folk song ‘Where Did You Sleep Last Night?’, immortalised by Lead Belly, Nirvana and others. The rest join in and it is gorgeous. It works on same level as Once, a fleeting, shared moment of communion with like-minded people, all conflicts set aside, all issues briefly forgotten. A magical thing to witness.

Otherwise, The Musicians struggles to thread its more highbrow sensibilities with the gentle comedy of its storytelling. Narratively, it’s pretty undemanding stuff. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; compared to other films in the festival like A Magnificent Life and Nouvelle Vague, it’s aiming for an audience beyond enthusiasts of its subject matter. Yet the marriage between its frankly transcendent musical highlights and a slightly clunky script isn’t the most harmonious. Still, it’s a film of thorough sincerity and earnestness, robust in its belief in music and its ability to bring people together. And if that sounds trite, the final performance will cut through all that with a beauty that will prickle the hair on your neck and bring a tear to the eye.

Screened as part of the French Film Festival