Permission (2018)

Permission is that rare romantic dramedy that treats long-term love like a living thing—messy, funny, tender, and worth interrogating—rather than a fairy-tale finish line. Rebecca Hall and Dan Stevens give beautifully grounded performances that make you believe in the comfort, history, and quiet panic of two people realizing adulthood doesn’t come with a rulebook, and the film’s humor lands not as sitcom punchlines but as the kind of laughter that slips out when life gets complicated. Director Brian Crano keeps the vibe intimate and observant, letting side characters feel like real adults with their own stakes, so the story becomes less about shock-value “open relationship” antics and more about what honesty and commitment actually cost. It’s not for anyone looking for a breezy, escapist rom-com—this one sits with uncomfortable feelings—but if you want something thoughtful, modern, and emotionally recognizable, it’s a smart, watchable choice.

Permission is clearly trying to be a thoughtful, modern relationship check-up—using an “open relationship experiment” to poke at commitment, jealousy, and the panic of growing up with your first love. The problem is it often plays like a series of loosely connected episodes, taking its time to get going and then skimming the surface of the very questions it wants to wrestle with. If you’re hoping for sharp romantic comedy momentum or a genuinely deep dive into non-monogamy, you may find it familiar, a bit meandering, and ultimately not all that satisfying. That said, Rebecca Hall and Dan Stevens bring enough honesty and awkward charm to keep it watchable if you’re in the mood for a low-key, talky indie drama about messy feelings rather than big revelations.