Daphne (2017)

Daphne is special because it sneaks up on you: a sharp, funny London hangout movie that gradually reveals the tender bruises underneath its wit, and it does so with a rare honesty that never feels like a “lesson.” Emily Beecham gives a vivid, disarming performance that makes Daphne’s bravado and loneliness coexist in the same breath, so you’re not watching a character arc so much as a person slowly coming into focus. Director Peter Mackie Burns keeps the tone brisk and observant—full of late-night chatter, workday friction, and small, telling moments—while letting one jarring incident quietly rearrange how Daphne sees her life. It’s not for everyone if you want big plot fireworks or if severe profanity and some drug use will put you off, but if you’re drawn to insightful, character-driven dramedies, this one feels bracingly real and unexpectedly moving.

Daphne is aiming for an intimate, London-set character study about a funny, fast-talking woman using nightlife and sarcasm to dodge the fact she’s quietly miserable, and it mostly sticks to that small, human scale. The problem is it can feel slight and familiar: you’ll recognize the beats of the “wounded millennial learns vulnerability” arc, and the big inciting incident doesn’t lead to especially surprising turns. If you need a plot-heavy drama or a comedy with real punchlines, this may feel like it’s marking time and calling it realism. Still, Emily Beecham gives the film a sharp pulse, and if you’re in the mood for a modest, mood-driven piece with strong language, partying, and a gentle nudge toward self-awareness, it can be an easy, quietly affecting watch.