The moniker “Merchant Ivory” usually represents the films made by the producer-director team of Ismail Merchant and James Ivory, movies such as “A Room with a View,” “Howards End,” and “The Remains of the Day.” For many, it’s also shorthand for a certain type of genteel period piece, a subgenre of the historical drama in which dialogue, characters, costuming, and art direction seems emphasized over plot and obvious emotion.

The designation now has an additional meaning with the release of a new documentary titled “Merchant Ivory.” Centered on the production company founded by the duo in 1961, the factual film charts most of their 43 movies chronologically, while also profiling key creative personnel besides the producer and director. At its most effective, the doc presents a rather surprising twist on the meaning of “Merchant Ivory”: that behind the scenes, the filmmaking process was anything but lavish, leisurely, and delicate.

The doc’s primary theme is the relationship that existed between the still-living Mr. Ivory and Merchant, who died in 2005. Having met at New York at the Indian consulate, the pair would meet up again in India, where they and their longtime screenwriter, Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, would make their first movies together, beginning with “The Householder,” which ultimately was re-edited by the master Indian director, Satyajit Ray.

The “Householder” was based on a novel by Jhabvala, a German-born Jew who had married an Indian, and the doc addresses how many of their movies sprung from literary sources, including three respective Henry James and E.M. Forster adaptations. It is the Forster films that are most remembered, and that justly take up a considerable part of the documentary’s attention. A brief case is made that “A Room with a View,” their breakthrough hit, was a subversive work critical of power structures and dotted with shocking moments, but soon the doc lets go of this provocative thread to focus on the film’s Academy Award-winning costumers: Jenny Beavan and John Bright.

Time and again, former cast and crew members discuss how the films were made on the cheap and how difficult it was to get through the productions. Emma Thompson, who won an Oscar for Best Actress for “Howards End,” calls them “low budget,” which is hard to believe considering the high production values seen on screen. Nevertheless, it seems to be true. Ivory’s meticulous attention to detail and Merchant’s often cut-rate approach to producing led to friction on set, resulting in shouting matches, delayed paychecks, and long hours.

In addition to the yin and yang of the Merchant-Ivory working relationship, the documentary delves into their personal partnership. An open secret to some in the industry, their romantic relationship was nonetheless unbeknownst to the screenwriter of their gay-themed movie “Maurice,” Kit Hesketh-Harvey. 

That they had been in a domestic partnership for more than 40 years only became widely known around the time Mr. Ivory won an Oscar in 2018 for his screenplay to “Call Me By Your Name.” Tensely, Mr. Ivory acknowledges how he never discussed the relationship with his Protestant mother and father, and how Merchant was equally reticent with his conservative Muslim family. When Mr. Ivory admits to feeling free to talk about their relationship now that most of Merchant’s relatives have passed, the moment is both profoundly sad and deeply honest.

Now in his 90s, Mr. Ivory is astutely quotable throughout, such as when he describes their working trinity as the President (himself), the Congress (Ismail), and the Supreme Court (Ruth). He also comes across as level-headed, even when speaking about Merchant’s affairs with other men, including composer Richard Robbins, who scored many of their movies. One senses the Merchant Ivory creative family not only consisted of outsiders but attracted them, too — to say nothing of the many individualists and misfits featured in their films. 

The documentary’s director, Stephen Soucy, doesn’t explore the recurring themes and motifs present in their pictures with any depth, and this feels like a wasted opportunity considering they’re still often dismissed as “Laura Ashley” filmmaking. There’s also no scene in which Mr. Ivory considers how his directing evolved over the years, though we do get a quick assessment of his later, mostly failed, films for the company, such as “Surviving Picasso.” 

An Indian actress, Madhur Jaffrey, tells one of the documentary’s best anecdotes, recounting how, during the filming of “Heat and Dust,” everyone was angry at Merchant due to the low pay and arduous working conditions‚ verily heat and dust — and yet one day, he was able to secure access to a palace that was hitherto off-limits. That wasn’t his only coup: He also had a picnic waiting for them when they arrived. 

This amusing story reinforces the notion that most of those who toiled in a Merchant Ivory Production didn’t think it would bring them fame or fortune, but did so out of love for the two men, the camaraderie they fostered, and the spells they cast on-screen.