Film review of “His Three Daughters” (2024)

Grief destroys what we think of ourselves. It's cruel. It's hard. It's inevitable. It tears down the walls we build around our personalities that so often reduce us to simple descriptors like sister, daughter and mother. Azazel Jacobs' stunning His Three Daughters opens with a scene that defines the title characters, then spends 100 minutes revealing that those definitions don't really describe who they are. Yes, they're sisters and daughters (and two are mothers). But in the days leading up to their father's death, they're reminded of the complexity of human emotions, behaviors and understandings. Backed by three of the best performances in a long time and a graceful screenplay by Jacobs himself, this is one of the best films of the year, a film that moves me so much that I get emotional just thinking about it. Because it's not just a display of outstanding acting at its finest. Because it feels true in a way that films about death rarely get to be.

In this opening scene, we meet Katie (Carrie Coon), Christina (Elizabeth Olsen), and Rachel (Natasha Lyonne). Katie's arms are crossed—a recurring body language from Coon and Jacobs to show how closed off this perpetual planner is to those around her—as she rants about her dying father, Vincent (Jay O. Sanders), not having a DNR. She does all she can in the moment, channeling her emotional turmoil into plot points. (I can relate almost too well.) Sister Christina is more open and warm, gazing out into the hallway where her father rests. At first, Rachel seems almost absent, more eager to get high and check her latest sports bets than to talk to either of them.

Jacobs reveals so much about these women through natural dialogue. We learn that Katie is at odds with her teenage daughter; Christina used to be a Grateful Dead fan (and maybe wishes she still was); Rachel has taken care of her father by living with him. Coon, Olsen and Lyonne do career-best work in these complex roles, brought to life thanks to Jacobs' sharp, character-driven script. All three are driven by grief, not just because of what they're about to lose, but because of what their reactions to the situation say about themselves. Jacobs deftly avoids melodrama, even infusing his film with a touch of sharp humor that cuts through the potential kitsch. From the very first scene, we believe Katie, Christina, and Rachel are real, exchanging barbs and insights in a way that's as organic and fascinating as great theater—since the film takes place almost entirely in Vincent/Rachel's apartment, it almost feels like it was conceived as a powerful piece of theater.

However, Jacobs makes great use of the language of the film. The sound design is underrated, whether it's the constant beeping of the machines in the hallway keeping Dad awake or the regular return of the New York train passing the apartment complex. While people go about their lives, these three daughters lose their father.

It's also a subtly filmed piece, whether it's the way the hall becomes almost threatening, especially to Rachel, who seems least willing to spend time with her dying father, or the way the light changes just like that in a final scene that's already controversial. I love it for reasons I can't go into without giving away spoilers. Suffice it to say that not only is it set up a few scenes earlier by one of the characters, but it's what I hope the ending will be in its mix of closure and life-defining regret.

To say that there is an “ending” in His Three Daughters is not a spoiler. It is a film about death. It is a film about something the vast majority of us have to do: say goodbye to our parents. They say that when you lose your parents, something changes inside you. His Three Daughters posits that such a change is a product not just of loss, but of the introspection that comes with it. It is not that saying goodbye makes us who we are, but that closing the door forever on someone we love reminds us who we are. can be. And maybe who we always were in their eyes.

In cinemas from tomorrow, September 6th^th. On Netflix on September 20^th.