It might be hard out there for a pimp, but it's even harder for a middle-aged mother of three with a cheating husband and a life wrought with errands. So when a decent-looking younger man with a criminal record comes along, is it so wrong to say, "Screw it!" and have a fling in the cab of his semi?

The answer is hell no in "Moscow, Belgium," Flemish director Christophe van Rompaey's debut feature about the pursuit of love and happiness in working-class Belgium.  It is a romantic comedy in its purest form, complete with a meet-cute, a triangular love conflict and even a love-confession-by-karaoke scene that will make even the sappiest viewer squirm.  But instead of the clean, pretty (and usually rich) people who generally populate the American version of the genre, the characters here are often disheveled, uncouth, and refreshingly real.

Set in the drab, suburban town of Moscow, Belgium, the film opens with a slow motion close-up on the jilted Matty (Barbara Sarafian) as she slumps her way through a supermarket with two of her three kids.  Her face is a combination of exhaustion and pain, and from this scene forward, Sarafian masterfully conveys, both with and without words, the aura of a woman being put through the emotional ringer.

The ringer, we soon find out, is in the form of her cheating husband Werner (Johan Heldenbergh), who left her and the kids exactly five months, two weeks and three days earlier to shack up with a 22-year-old former student.  He comes by their industrial apartment bloc to visit the kids, but also manages to turn the knife in Matty's heart a bit until the bling of a text message pulls him back to his mistress.  

Like any cinematic strong woman, Matty holds it all inside, biding her time cooking, cleaning and showing up for her mundane job as a postal clerk, all with the same look of unsatisfied loneliness. But her dull, yet complicated life takes a turn when she backs her grocery-filled car into the side of a big, yellow truck.  

Out pops ginger-haired Johnny, with gender-specific epithets flying, and, due to his own relationship baggage, a disdain for women as "bloodsuckers."  But Matty is in no 

mood to deal with yet another asshole in her life and she easily holds her own in the verbal tug-of-war that ensues.  Matty leaves the scene with what seems like genuine revulsion for the uncouth trucker, but soon Johnny's anger turns to interest.  After he fixes her broken trunk, Matty agrees to a first and then second and third date.

If we were to look at this film through a Hollywood lens, we might assume they will live happily ever after.  But not so in Moscow.  From their age difference to Matty's marital status to the fact that Johnny was once jailed for assaulting his ex-girlfriend, red flags beat Matty, and us, over the head early on.  She is still very much in love with her husband and he is still very much in the picture; she hangs on to the hope he will soon come back to her. 

Yet with gentle prodding, she still cautiously pursues the relationship with Johnny and so do we.  These characters are both flawed, real and you can't help but root for them, even if it is clear they may not be right for each other. A level of subtle suspense is created since it isn't clear up until the final scene of the film which man she will pick, if any; by that point, neither man seems to have an advantage.

What holds the film together is how absorbing and multilayered Sarafian's Matty is on screen.  With Werner, she is downtrodden, angry and hurt and her confidence is waning.  With Johnny, she is volatile; she lets her hair down and her face brightens. She doesn't smile often but when she does, it has meaning; it is hard-earned.  

She is a good mother, perhaps too busy and depressed to spend as much time as she should with her kids, but her love is apparent.  They're well-behaved, each have their own eccentricities and even the mildly rebellious 16-year-old Vera (Anemone Valcke) supports and respects her mother with a skeptical and protective eye on the men in her life. 

As with Sarafian's performance, the true strength of the film is its realness.  Yes, the Hollywood clichés are apparent, but there are enough variations on these clichés that they don't quite make your eyes roll.  Matty doesn't come out for her first date all dolled up, there is no "getting ready for a hot date" montage and no long-winded "why I love you," speech at the end.  

"Moscow, Belgium" refreshingly proves that comedies can be romantic without the typically Hollywood, and often overwhelming, layer of cheese.