Laura (Rashida Jones), a forty-something writer living in New York, slowly finds herself bogged down in routine after the birth of her two daughters. Her husband, Dean (Marlon Wayans), is constantly on the go — caught up in his fast-paced career and frequently away on business trips — leaving all the household and parenting responsibilities to Laura. Her monotonous life leads to a creative block, which soon grows into a relationship crisis: Dean’s strange behavior gives Laura reason to suspect he’s cheating.

With no better idea, she turns to her father, Felix (Bill Murray) — a well-known art dealer and notorious ladies’ man. He doesn’t hesitate: Dean is guilty, he says — and promptly arrives in New York to convince his daughter to spy on her husband.

The title of Sofia Coppola’s film (The Virgin Suicides, Lost in Translation), On the Rocks, is an idiom with two meanings: a drink served over ice, and a marriage on the verge of collapse. Both are present in the film — Laura and Felix find themselves in bars more than once, discussing the fragile state of her relationship with her husband.

But the more time we spend alone with Jones’s and Murray’s characters, the more it becomes clear that Coppola is less interested in themes of marriage and fidelity, and far more drawn to the complex relationship between a daughter and the father who once abandoned his family for an affair.

Murray’s character immediately steals the spotlight the moment he enters the frame — overflowing with charm and wit, flirting with every woman he sees, and exuding unshakable confidence. Laura’s father seems to know everyone in New York, and no matter the hotel or restaurant in the world, he always has a connection. “It must be nice to be you,” Laura remarks at one point, watching how her father effortlessly wins over a cop who pulls him over for reckless driving.

In this strong father figure, it’s hard not to see echoes of Sofia Coppola’s own father — the legendary director Francis Ford Coppola, the man behind Apocalypse Now and The Godfather trilogy. And Laura clearly resembles Sofia herself — a forty-something screenwriter and filmmaker living in New York with her husband and two daughters. These parallels make it clear: On the Rocks is a deeply personal film for Sofia Coppola.

It’s no surprise, then, that the true heart of this bar-hopping road movie lies in the relationship between Laura and her father. At one point, Laura confesses to Felix that ever since she had children, she’s forgotten how to whistle — a situation as surreal as Felix suddenly declaring that he can no longer hear women’s voices. Behind this metaphor lies a clear message: Laura has lost touch with herself — with her identity — through age and marriage. As for Felix’s dramatic claim, it only further emphasizes how out of sync he is with the times.

Felix is outdated in every way — from his sexist jokes that embarrass young waitresses to his old-fashioned manners. Even the car he chooses for their “surveillance” mission fits the part: a flashy red vintage convertible that sputters and stalls (which, of course, it eventually does).

So beneath the banter between Laura and Felix lies a quiet dialogue between the present and the past — one that will speak only to those who are truly listening. That’s because Coppola has chosen a special language for her characters — the language of whistling (an idea also explored in The Whistlers by Corneliu Porumboiu).

Laura’s realization — that the more she follows her father’s lead, the more she drifts away from herself — comes suddenly, and significantly, in a rather ordinary moment. She finally sees Felix for what he truly is: just a child constantly craving affection. In that instant, Laura stops being “daddy’s little girl” (a transformation symbolized most clearly in the scene where she changes her wristwatch), and she grows up in a flash — prompting a pouty, almost childish remark from Felix: “You used to be fun.”

As one everyday truth gives way to another, Coppola underscores a simple but essential idea — the need to cast aside inherited stereotypes (the film, not by chance, opens with a snippet from a Chris Rock stand-up about the myth of sex in marriage) and just talk — really talk — to your partner.

There are no grand ideas in On the Rocks — nor are there meant to be. The meaning, like so much else in the film, lies right on the surface. By focusing too much on the details — a forgotten makeup bag in a husband’s luggage, a locked phone, deleted messages, or a blank Word document — we risk missing the bigger picture.

And within that simplicity lies a kind of quiet answer to all of Sofia Coppola’s work. Despite what many might expect (after all, she is the daughter of Francis Ford Coppola), she continues to make small, intimate, and quietly heartfelt films — about the things that are truly close to her.

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