For a film whose primary narrative device is a feature-length conversation between two people—à la Richard Linklater’s “Before” trilogy (1995-2013)—writer-director Christy Hall’s feature filmmaking debut, “Daddio,” opens with about ten minutes of ruminative silence.

Using the keen eye of cinematographer Phedon Papamichael (“The Trial of the Chicago 7,” 2020) and Dickon Hinchliffe’s (“The Lost Daughter,” 2021) contemplative underscores, Hall gives Dakota Johnson’s (“Cha Cha Real Smooth,” 2022) silence a near-claustrophobic internality that’s a bit too familiar to those of us whose minds have gone through an emotional avalanche. Johnson, who plays a computer programmer who hails a cab from JFK to Manhattan, is the primary subject of these opening minutes—Papamichael uses extreme close-ups to translate her quietly devastated state of mind. 

We see a pair of fidgety hands, one of which is trying to massage one side of her neck as her eyes dart between the hands of the cab driver, the window, and the phone in her purse; the viewer is hyper-aware that something’s not right. “Daddio” is filled with these moments, which beautifully telegraph the long, winding exchange between her and Clark (Sean Penn; “Licorice Pizza,” 2021), the driver of the cab she’s riding home.

It’s not the only thing that makes the film stand out from the surprising number of conversation-heavy movies over the last decade. With “Daddio,” Hall crafts an exchange between two kindred spirits with an untold history of trauma and regret. The two—and only—characters here aren’t just flawed; they’re very messy and—at the risk of tone-deafness—aren’t afraid to be blunt with each other. 

There’s something unexpectedly refreshing in how this bubbling-on-volatile conversation plays out. Of course, sparks can die out, but the film’s near-consistent tenacity over the rhythm of their back-and-forth makes this feel like a precipitous well filled to the brim with an emotional complexity that often feels terrifyingly all too relatable.

None of this authenticity would be possible without the shining performances of Penn and Johnson, for whom their respective moments of silence speak as loudly as—perhaps louder than—their words. Their acts have a subtle physicality that feels like a near-perfect emulation of a kind of volatility and unpredictability that feels unmistakably human. 

Whether it’s the gentle smirk that betrays what Penn’s about to throw back at Johnson or the latter completely unraveling toward the end, taking the film to its eventual poignant crescendo, the two work perfectly off each others’ strengths and turn the movie into a cathartic viewing experience.

It looks like an unassuming little film on the outside, but “Daddio” is a stunning exercise in empathy, regret, and catharsis—all in the course of a cab drive that lasts as long as the film itself. Boasting outstanding turns from Dakota Johnson and Sean Penn, the film also reveals the boundless storytelling eye of its writer-director Christy Hall, who’s a voice to watch out for. Highly recommended.