Radu Mihaileanu’s “The Concert” is a dramedy with about as much story as a music video. It gives the brush strokes of a few one-dimensional characters and places them in a vaguely political, extraordinarily simplified context. The film focuses on Andrei Filipov (Alexei Guskov), a Tchaikovsky-obsessed former conductor of the Bolshoi Orchestra, who has been relegated to a janitorial position since his run-in with the Communist Party under Brezhnev. In the present day, he brings together the former members of the Bolshoi Orchestra to perform in Paris.

“The Concert” mostly consists of the musicians’ preparations to leave for Paris and some blurry flashbacks to communist Moscow. The many scenes in which Andrei runs around Moscow trying to forge visas and book buses for his rag-tag group of musicians evoke a combination of mild anxiety and vague boredom. Will Andrei get his cellists and trumpeters to France? Do I really care? These were the film’s most suspenseful questions.

And yet, like its counterparts in the world of music video, “The Concert” makes up for its lack of story with its music. When the movie stops and lets Tchaikovsky fill the scene, it’s almost beautiful. Even the film’s mundane plot and melodramatic back story become oddly touching as harmonious strings and horns overwhelm the soundtrack.

It can be hard to understand Andrei’s fanaticism for Tchaikovsky when he tries to explain it himself. He makes some pretentious, unconvincing argument for the “absolute harmony” of Tchaikovsky’s “Concerto for Violin and Orchestra.” But when the film allows Tchaikovsky’s music to speak for itself, his obsession starts to seem perfectly reasonable.

Guskov does not really help his inarticulate character communicate with the audience. His performance wavers between leering silence and tearful speeches, both of which are equally creepy and off-putting. The character does not really seem emotional — just a bit unhinged. Mélanie Laurent (“Inglourious Basterds”) co-stars as the French solo-violinist who agrees to perform with Andrei’s orchestra. Her performance is subtler than Guskov’s and she becomes an appealing focal point, despite her character’s overall flatness.

The rest of the characters are used mostly for gags. “The Concert” offers numerous hackneyed jokes about Russians drinking vodka; Jewish musicians trying to make a few Euros selling smuggled caviar; a token member of the Russian mafia bullying everyone in his path.

The film’s most impressive accomplishment is its ability to pare down Tchaikovsky’s music to the essentials and its willingness to make the music’s emotional power relevant to the story. Since “The Concert” is a dramedy, not a concert film, Mihaileanu worked with composer Armand Amar to cut the 22-minute concerto down to its vitals.

“The Concert” lacks most of the elements a movie needs. There’s not much in the way of a story or characters. Even the jokes fall flat. But it buoys itself on the wave of its music. With the support of the orchestra, the jokes become joyful, the tears moving. If only Mihaileanu had decided to dispense with the story altogether, and had just made “The Concert” into a concert film, then this humble critic would have had nothing to criticize.