Truth, fiction, and their relative strangeness — or, rather, dramatic interaction — are at play in “Dos Estaciones,” a film by writer and director Juan Pablo González. 

In this, his debut effort, Mr. González blurs cinematic convention in a way that upends his narrative focus. What to do when the primary current of your fictional story is overshadowed by a more-real-than-not sidebar?

María García (the veteran Mexican actress Teresa Sánchez) is the owner of Dos Estaciones, a family-run tequila factory at Atotonilco El Alto, Mexico. Hard times are afoot. A fungus is wreaking havoc on the agave crops. A freak rainstorm takes the village by surprise; floods cause irrevocable damage. Then there are the multinational corporations buying up land and, with them, the adjacent mom-and-pop distilleries.

Is it any wonder that María is among the most dour of women? She corrals the workers together, and apologizes for the delay in pay. The employees take it in stride, considering their formidable boss a member of their families. At a birthday party for the child of an assistant, María meets Rafaela (Rafaela Fuentes), an attractive young woman who has significant experience with the nuts-and-bolts of running a business.

María offers Rafaela a job in exchange for room-and-board — a salary being out of the question — and a professional relationship ensues. A personal one as well, maybe. María is clearly attracted to “Rafa,” but María’s role in the community, as well as the dignity that has accrued from it, prevent her from acting upon her feelings. How aware or interested is Rafaela in María’s attentions? Notwithstanding a lyrical scene in which the two women dance to a song on the radio, there is no definitive answer.

In addition to supplying jobs for the surrounding population, María is an investor in local businesses. Among them is a beauty salon run by Tatín (Tatín Vera), an openly trans woman who is the chief hairdresser. As Tatín styles María’s hair, the conversation touches on business. While we know about the difficulties facing Dos Estaciones, things are looking up at the salon. Money is good, and renovations are in the offing.

Not all of the actors in the film are professionals. Many of the supporting roles were cast from the populace of Atotonilco El Alto — which, as it turns out, is Mr. González’s hometown. Familiarity, we learn, doesn’t always breed contempt; sometimes it fosters intimacy and verisimilitude. The naturalness of the performances, as well as the film’s documentary-like grit, can likely be attributed to community esprit. Certainly, the film benefits from Tatín Vera, who, as a cinematic version of herself, commands our attention and our empathy.

Mr. González apparently was impressed with Ms. Vera as well. That’s likely why the film goes a bit off the rails around the 45-minute mark. At that point, María’s plight is markedly set aside so that we can follow Tatín on her day off. Part of that time is spent taking mom to the casino. The rest is dedicated to Fernando (José Galindo), a middle-aged man new to playing the slots. Tatín shows him the ropes, whereupon proceeds a romantic evening and a loving morning, glimpsed in a spate of scenes remarkable for their understatement and tenderness.

So remarkable, in fact, that we miss Tatín when the focus of the picture returns to María. This isn’t a slight upon Ms. Sánchez’s performance and we do meet up with Tatín again. But the fate of Dos Estaciones is, as a plot device, largely preordained and, as such, our emotional stake in it is diminished. The relationship between Tatín and Fernando, in contrast, is less expected, considerably nuanced, and, in this context, more substantial. 

Unity of purpose and consistency of plot will come with greater experience. In the meantime, Mr. González has given us a promising first feature.