Film Review: Daphne

'I saw a man get stabbed. Held his hand as he bled.'

'Oh, is he, like, dead?'

It's the 'like' that does it. An inability to communicate meaningfully is at the core of Peter Mackie Burns' Daphne, a character study that expands beyond its striking lead performance to comment on social disconnection.

Emily Beecham is stunning as the eponymous 31-year-old, a clever but unmotivated, ennui-suffering Londoner who wants 'more'. But in the absence of knowing what that 'more' is, or an ability to ask for it, Daphne settles for the fleeting distractions of alcohol and casual sex. Not that she's alone. On the contrary, Daphne's mother (Geraldine James) and boss (Tom Vaughan-Lawlor, superb as ever) are desperate to connect with her, and countless men are drawn to Daphne's wit. But her humour isn't meant to attract; on the contrary, it's meant to deflect. An armour that has been carefully constructed over time, Daphne's flippancy is ingrained deep in her psyche, and she keeps everyone at a distance with acerbic sarcasm. Only after witnessing a brutal stabbing does Daphne try to confront her problems.

Nico Mensinga's screenplay is intimate and well-observed, capturing the struggles of a generation caught between stiff-upper-lip parents and younger kids encouraged to be emotionally expressive. When self-deprecation and irony are the primary forms of communication, and love and affection are derided as cheesy, admitting real vulnerability can be daunting.

Mackie Burns perfectly evokes this isolation in his portrayal of London, watching closely as people interact in workplaces, bars and bedrooms across the impersonal city. Everyone's talking, but who's actually saying anything?

4/5. Out Now