You’d hop in, settle into the backseat, and soon, the driver would start chatting. As the miles passed, you’d exchange stories—small moments of life, shared between strangers. By the time you arrived, the interaction felt real, almost personal. Paying the fare was an afterthought. You’d leave a generous tip, step out with a smile, and carry a new story with you.

Those simple rides reminded us of something special—the beauty of human connection.

Such is the concept of Christy Hall’s DADDIO (2024)—a film that impresses, despite centering on just two characters. Dakota Johnson and Sean Penn command the screen, their faces captured in extreme close-ups. Sometimes, it’s just their eyes; other times, a fleeting smile reveals unspoken thoughts.

Hall’s dialogue draws you in, urging you to listen closely. But it’s Johnson and Penn’s expressions that truly captivate, each glance and subtle shift hinting at untold stories, rich histories, and distinct worlds waiting to be explored.

DADDIO unfolds entirely within the cramped space of a yellow cab, traveling from JFK Airport to Manhattan. On a typical night, the ride might take 50 minutes—longer with traffic. But tonight, a car accident brings an unexpected delay.

In today’s world, this journey might pass in silence, with a passenger lost in their phone. But in DADDIO, there’s conversation. The driver, Clark (Penn), and his passenger, known only as Girlie (Johnson), find themselves with time to kill—and words to share.

Their initial exchanges are the usual cab banter—discussing flat fees and the pros and cons of cash versus credit cards. Yet, this small talk builds a connection. Small talk isn’t trivial; it can be a delightful way to bridge the gap between two strangers, turning an ordinary ride into something meaningful.

Where this conversation leads is truly unexpected, and it’s best to go in knowing little. Inside the cab, anything feels possible—like stepping into an alternate world where secrets surface and nothing stays fixed.

Here, connections form across divides—generation, gender, and perspective. Judgment is suspended, if only for a moment, even as tensions simmer beneath the surface.

For reasons unknown, Clark and Girlie stay engaged in conversation until she reaches her destination. Despite a man texting her nonstop, asking when she’ll arrive, she resists the urge to escape into her phone.

Still, there are moments when she’s pulled into the digital void—a silent tug away from Clark’s analog world and the weight of a relationship that doesn’t sit right. And it shows.

Johnson and Penn's chemistry is captivating and mysterious. Their connection, while mostly still and stealing glances through the rearview mirror, feels electric.

Clark is talkative, full of opinions and curiosity, proudly declaring, “I’m just a guy who pays attention.” Penn’s performance is surprisingly warm—a quality not often associated with him—yet he delivers it with striking authenticity.

But Clark isn’t just a lovable figure. There’s a raw edge to him, a willingness to voice outdated views. When he grins and tells Girlie, “You can handle yourself,” the weight of his words speaks volumes about her strength.

Johnson's Girlie enters like a character from a film noir—a beautiful, sad figure seeking an escape. As their conversation takes a provocative turn, it begins subtly, but Clark is quick to catch it. Both are resilient, yet their toughness reveals itself in different ways.

Christy Hall steers the film with remarkable skill in managing the challenges of filming within the milieu’s tight confines. While this approach has precedent—think LOCKE—Hall makes it her own.

Phedon Papamichael’s cinematography is strikingly atmospheric, turning Manhattan’s lights into dreamy abstractions outside the windows. Inside, shadows and flickering lights dance across the cab, capturing Johnson’s face in the rearview mirror—hauntingly reminiscent of Cybill Shepherd in TAXI DRIVER.

Despite unfolding within the tight space of a car, Hall's narrative feels captivatingly vivid and dynamic. As the miles roll on, DADDIO soon becomes a reflection of the complexities of human connection and the unexpected stories that surface when we genuinely engage.

It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most meaningful journeys happen in the most unlikely places—even in the back of a cab.