In Azazel Jacobs’s new film “His Three Daughters,” now available on Netflix, viewers may initially find themselves unsure about the direction of the story. The early dialogue feels somewhat awkward and overly theatrical, reminiscent of a stage adaptation, with a close, static camera that emphasizes this stiffness. While the performances from Carrie Coon, Natasha Lyonne, and Elizabeth Olsen are commendable, the material seems better suited for an intimate theater setting.
However, as the film progresses, it finds its rhythm and begins to unfold in a more engaging way. Although the conversations remain slightly heightened—akin to character monologues—the deliberate style draws the audience in rather than pushing them away. “His Three Daughters” evolves into a moving drama about a family’s experience with impending loss.
The narrative centers around the three daughters of a terminally ill man, who largely remains off-screen during the film. Coon plays Katie, a meticulous and somewhat distant Type-A woman from Brooklyn, whose sporadic presence during their father’s illness frustrates her stepsister Rachel, portrayed by Lyonne. Rachel has been right by their father’s side throughout his decline while managing to engage in behaviors that irritate Katie. The youngest sister, Christina, played by Olsen, attempts to maintain harmony despite living across the country and having embraced a traditional lifestyle after her bohemian past.
Each sister is portrayed with depth, moving beyond mere stereotypes to represent a family caught in a complicated emotional web as they confront their father’s dying days. The film’s strength lies in the observed interactions and quarrels among the sisters, enriching the narrative with layers of personal history.
Alongside the daughters are moments shared with a caring palliative nurse and Rachel’s boyfriend, played by Jovan Adepo, but for the most part, the story revolves around the sisters and their navigation of grief and family dynamics full of unresolved tension. Rachel grapples with her place in the family, as Vincent (Jay O. Sanders), the father figure, isn’t her biological dad, despite their close bond.
Jacobs skillfully navigates the complexities of their relationships without resorting to melodrama, allowing for a heartfelt dialogue that reveals years of unexpressed feelings. The performances from Coon, Lyonne, and Olsen are impressive, balancing formal dialogue with the authenticity of everyday speech. Lyonne stands out with a raw, poignant portrayal of the family’s emotional core, while Coon effectively embodies a character who conceals insecurity beneath a facade of control.
Olsen’s portrayal emerges as particularly resonant on a second viewing, as she captures the struggle of seeking comfort in positivity amidst sadness. A standout moment arises when Christina reflects on the essence of being a Deadhead, which serves as a broader commentary on a generation and culture.
Throughout the film, Jacobs’s focus on the specifics of this family dynamics evokes empathy for their unique struggles, mirroring universal themes of fear, loss, and the passage of time.
As “His Three Daughters” draws to a close, it maintains its understated style while incorporating a moment of imagined fantasy that hints at deeper emotional connections. Ultimately, the film conveys a poignant truth about the limitations of knowledge regarding those we love, suggesting that merely having known them must suffice.