“🅘And remember, don’t give your heart to any boys. You’re mine, until you get married. And then you’re still mine...” Spoken over a black screen, On The Rocks’ opening lines could be the prelude to a dark psychodrama of paternal possessiveness.

Instead, Sofia Coppola’s latest emerges as a beguiling, s♉ouffle-light comedy that could be an aged-up companion piece to the writ💎er/director’s Somewhere (2010). 

There are also echoes of Woody Allen in the set-up, which sees author Laura (Rashida ൩Jones) and her philandering father Felix (Bill Murray) tai🍰ling Laura’s possibly faithless husband Dean (Marlon Wayans) all over a picturesque Manhattan. 

As the quest takes them across the border, the film almost descends into a farce of lesser-Allen proportions. But it’s yanked back from the brink 🔯by the terrific leads’ lived-in portrayal of a loving-but-complex dad-daughter relationship.

Conjuring past roles (Coppola’s Lost In Translation, Broken Flowers), Murray essays pure, distilled Murray-ness, charming and disarming everyone in his path (grandkids, waiters, cops) while drolly spouting gender-stereotype bullshit (like that opener) that self-deconstructs on impact. Jones’ reactions to the feckless Felix – whether smiling indulgently or shutting him dowꦚn – are effortlessly on point. 

She also nails Laura’s work-life juggling, investing unforced feeling in everything from her writer&rsquoꦍ;s block to those three words th💙at come so easily to parents: “Go to sleep.”