There’s so little genuine, starry eyed you-had-me-at-hello romance in American movies today that when a new love story pops up, it’s hard not to root for it. That’s the case with “The Photograph,” about parallel affairs of the heart. One is hindered by ambition and miscommunication while the other suffers from familiar fears of commitment. Movies like this tell us that falling in love is easy — cue the thunderbolt looks, passionate kisses and surging orchestration — but if it really were that simple there wouldn’t be much to tell, so also bring on the agonies, tempests and tears.

When you meet Mae (Issa Rae), she’s in mourning. Her mother, Christina, a distinguished photographer and rather less capable mother, has recently died, leaving Mae — a New York museum curator — bereft, confused and more than a bit resentful. Christina has also left Mae a pair of letters, including a confessional one that soon becomes a portal to the past. In the magical way of some romances, around the same time, a New York photographer, Michael (a sensational Lakeith Stanfield), learns about Christina while researching a story in Louisiana that leads him to a former fisherman, Isaac (Rob Morgan, excellent), who knew her.

It isn’t long before Mae and Michael meet back in New York (there’s an undercurrent of destiny here), setting the story on its bifurcated way. The sparks fly fast and persuasively — Rae and Stanfield make sense right away — and you’re soon cozying up with the couple while they share stories and increasingly heated looks in a dimly lit restaurant. The writer-director Stella Meghie understands that you want to see these two beautiful people get together, and she smoothly delivers on your own romantic (and romance genre) longings. There’s glamour, banter, clinking glasses, searching looks and even one of those crashing storms that echo internal squalls.