Daddio (2023)

Ones and zeroes

Two actors. A single set, the interior of a cab (except the final 60 seconds). No narrative on the surface except “woman gets a cab ride home from the airport.” Hell, the two characters aren’t even that interesting. Daddio is a film composed entirely of dialogue and character development, with a total absence of narrative incidents. The pair in question are two New Yorkers, an unnamed thirty-something “girlie” and a grumpy old cab driver named Clark. They are unreasonably open with two people they just met for a hundred minutes, but the content of their conversation is pretty ordinary. E.g.: how depressing modern culture is, how fucked up our families are; how everything is too distracting and fast-paced these days; how someone annoying is texting us, hold on a sec so we can reply.

As a logline, it sounds like an inane, watered-down My Dinner With Andre. It’s the Before Trilogy with no urban exploration or passage of time or possibility of romance. And yet Daddio is at certain moments (though not its entire duration) riveting cinema. It even stumbles its way towards “good,” and that is specifically because of who those two actors are: Dakota Johnson and Sean Penn.

I’ve covered my growing appreciation for Dakota Johnson pretty extensively on this site: I find her fascinating even when she’s miscast (Persuasian), even when she’s aboard a sinking ship (Madame Web), even when she carries herself as if she’s above the material (Am I OK?). I’d even say I find her fascinating especially when she’s those things. And so I was delighted to spend a hundred minutes with her here.

And Sean Penn’s reputation should precede him, but I realize the only film of his that I’ve reviewed on this site is Licorice Pizza, in which he has a supporting role. Penn is one of the most accomplished living actors and also one of the greatest. Nobody has ever captured frightening intensity on screen in quite the same way. I saw Mystic River at just the right age and disposition for Penn’s performance in it to become one of my touchstones of what acting-acting looks like. He’s not necessarily my favorite actor, but when he shows up, I’m paying attention.

The results aren’t quite as delectable and explosive as I’d expect from “watch Dakota Johnson and Sean Penn lock in for an hour and forty minutes,” but it does get there from moment to moment. Penn in particular is outta this damn world, with some line deliveries that will make you believe what Clark is saying is profound poetry, when it very much isn’t. Johnson, meanwhile (unrecognizable with short blonde hair), has that same understated, inviting presence she always has.

To the extent there’s a problem with the film, it’s the fault of the script. Director and writer Christy Hall walks a tightrope of making the characters and their dialogue believable for what two people who just met would say to each other in a cab ride vs. what is actually interesting and character-revealing. And given the nature of the film, that balancing act is absolutely crucial. Hall does her best: She blocks the interior of a car about as well as anyone not named Richard Linklater could hope to. In the writing, she brings in some clever and repeated turns of phrase and gives each character moments of personality, but there’s just not enough fuel to sustain the film.

Johnson’s character has more to do on the surface. Her central conflict is figuring out the next steps in her affair with a married man (Clark’s deduction of this fact is one of the best moments in the film). And she’s given some backstory about a problematic childhood that’s not quite well-sketched enough to be memorable. Clark, meanwhile, serves as a priest hearing a confession or a friendly bartender, encouraging her to open up. The times he does give his opinion, it’s usually just man-splaining something about women or the nature of love. But, again, Penn keeps it always dynamic.

The chemistry between the pair has a slight charge to it, both in the writing and the acting. Clark is a relentless flirt and Johnson’s character eggs him on, and both actors play it up just the right amount. There’s never a real threat of the characters falling in love or hooking the way there are in Before Sunrise riffs.

I do ultimately recommend Daddio, but mainly because I’m the kind of guy who would happily watch and enjoy an extended demo reel of Penn and Johnson (which sounds like an off-brand Vegas magic act). I confess the film doesn’t really transcend that pitch the way better low-plot talky films do. I’m a sucker for dialogue-driven films like this in general; I someday want to do a deep dive on the late ’00s mumblecore movement like Hunter at Kinemalogue has done for ‘70s disaster flicks. But Daddio only barely gets over the finish line: it has the juice of a one-act play, not a feature film, and stretches of it really drag; the middle act is pretty boring. At half its length, or even 75 minutes, I think it would really crackle, but as it is, you either need to really like the two leads or really like chatty movies for it to be worthwhile. Luckily, I fall into both of those camps.

Ones and zeroes Two actors. A single set, the interior of a cab (except the final 60 seconds). No narrative on the surface except “woman gets a cab ride home from the airport.” Hell, the two characters aren’t even that interesting. Daddio is a film composed entirely of dialogue and character development, with a total absence…