An interesting people, the French. Take the first five minutes of director Caroline Vignal’s new movie, “My Donkey, My Lover & I.” Before the opening credits have a chance to roll, the audience is able to glean some core traits about our friends across the Atlantic. These include the belief that the human body is a source of wonder; that adultery is as inescapable as the weather; and that boys, well, they’ll be boys. These are mild ethnographic observations, sure, but that’s not to say they don’t glance upon the truth.

When such attributes are put into winning form, we all benefit. “My Donkey, My Lover & I” is light entertainment of the most appealing sort, a trifle that picks up grit as it saunters its way toward a conclusion. No cinematic mountains are moved; there isn’t anything particularly innovative or “relevant” in the details. Instead, Ms. Vignal, who also wrote the screenplay, offers up a character study that traverses the comedic and dovetails nimbly into drama. She’s crafted 90 minutes of gentleness and joy. Who couldn’t use some of that?

“My Donkey, My Lover & I” begins on a fairly broad note when we see Mademoiselle Lapouge (Laure Calamy) shimmy her bottom into a silver lame gown at the back of a classroom filled with 8-year olds. After asking the pupils their opinion on her raiment — “You’re beautiful,” one besotted boy avers — the teacher leads them out on a makeshift stage as part of a school performance. The music begins, and the children form a chorale singing lyrics that are notably adult: “One night I fall asleep with him/But I know it’s forbidden.” Our heroine, whose ambitions exceed her abilities, takes the lead as vocalist. The response of the parents in attendance is, at best, quizzical.

Antoinette, we quickly learn, is having an affair with Vladimir (Benjamin Lavernhe), the married father of one of her students. Vacation is about to begin, and Antoinette has plans in the coming week to spend time with Vladimir, a respite she’s looking forward to with no little enthusiasm. Trouble arises when Vladimir’s wife, Eléonore (Olivia Côte), reschedules a variety of familial responsibilities so that mother, father, and daughter can spend quality time together, thereby throwing a wrench into Antionette’s upcoming tryst. Antoinette is disappointed, but she’s determined. With precious little consideration, she signs up for the same donkey hike on which her lover and his family will be going. 

What, you may ask, is a donkey hike? Anyone familiar with Robert Louis Stevenson’s “Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes,” a journal of the author’s trek through France in the company of an equine, will know that it’s become something of a tradition among tourists eager to get back-to-nature. In her haste to join Valdimir, Antoinette doesn’t realize that the donkey hike has largely become a metaphorical pursuit, and the hiring of an animal optional. As a result, she’s paired with Patrick, a gray donkey, who, like most on-screen creatures, has attitude to spare.

Antoinette learns some life lessons as she winds her way along Stevenson’s Trail — about the vagaries of reputation, the recalcitrance of nature, and how a stealthy shag in the great outdoors is no guarantor of long-standing bliss. After getting fuddled down a few blind alleys, Antoinette does eventually connect with Vladimir and his family. On their ventures together, she engages in a remarkably matter-of-fact tête-à-tête with Eléonore, a scene in which Ms. Calamy and, especially, Ms. Côte shine as actresses. All the while, the mountainous region of South Central France serves as a fetching backdrop.

Yet not quite as fetching as Ms. Calamy. Anyone who had the good sense to watch “Call My Agent!,” a French TV series about a Parisian talent agency and its many intrigues, will remember Ms. Calamy’s turn as the irrepressible Noémie Leclerc. She brings the same sharp comic timing and wide-eyed enthusiasm to the role of Antoinette. Whether hiking through the woods wearing inappropriate heels and hot pants or registering the smallest glimmer of regret, she brings a rare vitality — a kind of goofball electricity — to the screen. Ms. Vignal could not have found a happier collaborator for this, her rambling and genial shaggy donkey story.