The film co-production treaty signed between Italy and Australia in 1993 did not exactly spark a new genre of spaghetti-Down Under cinematic hybrids. In fact, when it comes to collaborations between the two countries, the feature film directorial debut of Ruth Borgobello – a graduate of the Victorian College of the Arts – is the first of its kind.

The Space Between, which plays as part of this month’s touring Lavazza film festival, is a romantic drama set in northern Italy, about a depressed, bottomed-out chef and a Melbournian who puts some zest back into his life (with, yes, a side serve of cheese).

When we meet 35-year-old Marco (Flavio Parenti), he is ruling the roost of fancy cuisine, whipping up seafood pasta nom-noms matched to perfect drops of white. A deep personal loss leads him to lose his spirit to cook. Now in a menial factory job – and facing diminished hours – Marco tries not to look back on what could have been.

The fallen chef, with his charming, albeit love-hungry, bright blue eyes, is seeing somebody, though you can sense his heart isn’t really in it. Enter Olivia (Maeve Dermody): a gentle, hipstery, equilibrium recalibrating force of good who will ameliorate his wounds.

They share nice wine and nice conversation, navigating an itinerary of tourist-looking places: parks, big rocks, a castle. Cupid’s arrow is clearly poised for a bit of Aussie-Italiano passion, though the framing remains a little one-sided – on Marco’s home, personal growth and potential redemption.

Parenti and Dermody are an alluring pair who are radiant in an organic and unprepossessing way; to convey charm they don’t need to twinkle their eyes or put too fine a point on it. The actors have reasonably good chemistry, though there’s a sense neither are being pushed anywhere near their full potential.

The Space Between begins dreamy and autumnal, with Marco strolling down a beautiful tree and shrubbery lined path in a scene washed in wet and shiny colours. He arrives at a lake and looks across it, distanced from the beautiful woman on the other side: a rather obvious reference to the title.

It is clear early on that the film’s emotional essence will involve the bittersweet pairing of love and loss. The screenplay, written by Borgobello and Mario Mucciarelli, has real-life correlations. It was inspired by the writer/director’s first trip to Italy, during which she met her future husband, Davide (who also produced the film).

To truly desire the protagonist to be saved from emotional doldrums, we really needed to feel the weight of what crushed him, a circumstance probably best left for the film to reveal. But Borgobello, not unlike her lead character, can be aloof with emotional details. The dialogue doesn’t do her or the film any favours; one struggles to recall a single interesting conversation.

Despite hardships thrown the protagonist’s way, there’s a feeling the characters are just beginning to emerge as interesting people when the house lights come up. If The Space Between is obvious, it is thoughtfully obvious, with an aura of poignant optimism. If this sounds like faint praise, it’s perhaps more acknowledgement that the crowning achievement is probably in mood and tone.

There is a big-heartedness at the film’s core that comes across despite, or maybe because of, its limitations and imperfections. Sometimes only through the cracks the light comes in. Imbued with lovely cinematography from Katie Milwright, there is enough of that – light – in The Space Between, literal and otherwise, to provide a reasonably fulfilling experience.