Most directors will release only one movie a year, if that. Steven Soderbergh is on his third. Following the theatrical releases of Presence and Black Bag, the prolific filmmaker has brought his latest film, The Christophers, to the Toronto International Film Festival. It couldn’t be more different from his last two movies, proving he remains one of the most interesting directors working today.

Rather than a horror movie or a spy drama, The Christophers is an understated character piece about art, legacy, and unexpected bonds. It’s largely a two-hander between Ian McKellen and Michaela Coel, very different performers who somehow fit together incredibly well. The promise of seeing them square off is what drew me to this movie.

Coel plays Lori, an artist who is tapped for an unconventional job. The two adult children (Jessica Gunning and James Corden) of a legendary painter (McKellen’s Julian) want Lori to complete their father’s unfinished masterpieces so they can earn a profit off them after he eventually dies. Julian famously refused to release the pieces, and he certainly doesn’t want his children to get them, but they’re determined.

Lori meets Julian under the pretense of becoming his ᴀssistant, and almost immediately it seems they aren’t suited for each other at all. Julian leaves Lori hanging while filming a bunch of Cameos, his vanity and arrogance so clear that she can only stare in bafflement. However, though she only says a handful of words, Julian agrees to take her on.

The тιтular Christophers are a series of paintings that are part of a broader collection. For a time, their subject — and the reason why Julian has hid them away — is something of a mystery. The intrigue builds until we learn the truth, which isn’t presented as an earth-shaking reveal, but instead a melancholy admission.

The Christophers’ Stripped-Down Production Allows Its Stars The Chance To Shine

In fact, there is very little about The Christophers that is overdramatic or sensationalized. Soderbergh adopts a more intimate approach here, since many of the scenes are just of Lori and Julian talking. She’s got a chip on her shoulder and complicated feelings about Julian’s work, and the aging artist is still grappling with being beyond his glory days.

They’re an odd pair, but through various revelations and dry wisecracks, a connection blooms. It’s a prickly one, but that’s perfectly suited to these characters. The script, written by Ed Solomon, is littered with funny quips that are expertly delivered by McKellen and Coel.

Coel conveys a lot with very little; there are moments when Julian is monologuing, and Coel reveals Lori’s disbelief, derision, and hurt with the simplest facial expressions. Lori is a character who keeps everything тιԍнтly packed inside, and when more of herself spills out toward the end, it’s like seeing something special.

McKellen similarly gets a rich character to play in Julian, a man who can go from spewing endless arrogance to silently reeling from unexpected pain in a second. The legendary actor somehow endears us to this eccentric, pig-headed man, even with his inappropriate habits and tendency to fall back on insults.

Soderbergh favors long sH๏τs here that give each actor the space to really sit with the scene and their dialogue. This does give The Christophers a slower pace, though it gets a jolt of energy when Julian and Lori find themselves joining forces. Friends might be too strong of a word for what they become; kindred spirits would be better.

The Christophers practically lives inside this little world Soderbergh has created, walled in by Antonia Lowe’s well-crafted production design and Kimberley Hussey’s set decoration. Inside Julian’s dual houses, there’s dried paint on the walls and doors, clutter that speaks to years of accumulation and stories, and an overall sensation that starts off foreboding, but becomes almost cozy by the end. It’s an extension of Julian himself.

The film is so understated that the final act, which holds a major story shift, is threatened with a lessened impact. It’s through the strength of the performers — particularly Coel — that the closing moments resonate so deeply. The Christophers trusts its two leads and their characters to guide the audience to its desired conclusion, and watching it unfurl is a rewarding experience.

The Christophers premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival.