Three of Our Best Actresses Elevate Netflix’s His Three Daughters

As a seasoned viewer who has seen countless films and television shows that explore the complex dynamics of families, I must admit that Azazel Jacobs’ “His Three Daughters” resonated with me in a unique way. The film masterfully captures the raw, emotional turmoil that often arises when three adult sisters are forced to confront their shared past and present, all while grappling with the impending loss of their father.


Azazel Jacobs’ film “His Three Daughters ” initiates with a sequence of intense, almost dramatic soliloquies, spoken by the three grown offspring of a terminally ill man. This unconventional method of storytelling might appear risky, but the actresses portraying these women are exceptionally skilled. Carrie Coon’s character Katie takes on the role of maturity in the room, swiftly rattling off a list of tasks, observations, and hidden frustrations directed at her sister Rachel (Natasha Lyonne). Following Katie is Elizabeth Olsen’s Christina, the youngest and most prim among them, who appears to be spending the majority of her time caring for their ailing father, hooked up to a morphine drip in his bedroom. Despite her nurturing demeanor, Christina harbors doubts; she’s the type who concludes her statements with a swift nod, as if trying to convince herself that what she just said is true. Lastly, there’s Lyonne’s Rachel, the stressed-out pothead who has been sharing this New York apartment with their father for years, despite her reluctance to enter his room now. Rachel communicates more through reactions than words, struggling to process the influx of words from her sisters – who are, in reality, her adopted sisters, as Rachel was raised by their father after he married her mother many years ago.

Jacobs’s film currently streaming on Netflix will not maintain its initial dramatic tone. The initial flamboyance subsides as three distinct women grapple with the impending death of their father. For much of the movie, their father is barely present. Instead, these women, who have grown distant but aren’t entirely estranged, tend to argue among themselves. Katie has a list of grievances against Rachel, with her smoking marijuana in the apartment being the primary issue. When Rachel attempts to smoke outside, the building superintendent asks her to return indoors. Despite not being easily manipulated, she complies both times, moving between the apartment and the courtyard, criticized at every juncture.

Jacobs’s screenplay seems to favor Katie and Christina in a stereotypical manner. Katie represents the no-nonsense, wealthy city woman of middle age, while Christina is depicted as a quiet suburban mother into yoga. At times, they appear more like character types than genuine individuals, bordering on caricature. Rachel, with her laid-back attitude and nonchalant demeanor, seems to be merely enduring her sisters’ visit. The dynamic between the sisters is intended to feel familiar but veers uncomfortably towards the predictable and routine. Although the film promises to delve deeper into these characters and their relationships with their father, it fails to present any surprising insights or twists about them or their family ties.

The issue isn’t critical since the performers manage to keep viewers engaged with their captivating performances. Coon, frequently saddled with ungrateful supporting roles in films, successfully draws us into Katie’s persistent agitation. Her gaze, though not quite withering, is penetrating and demands responses. We grasp that this character is always pushing for progress because there’s no other way things will get done.

As a devoted cinephile, I found myself questioning if “His Three Daughters” was indeed heading somewhere significant throughout its narrative. It seemed at times that the film itself was in a state of waiting – for death, for reconciliation, for confrontation, for some sort of resolution. The sisters’ gradual understanding of each other is inevitable, but the journey to this realization feels arduous and isolating, much like standing vigil over a dying loved one day after day.

Viewed from that perspective, there’s an unusual sense of reasoning behind how the film concludes. Towards the end, when the daughters wheel their father (played by Jay O. Sanders) out of his deathbed and place him in his favorite chair, he appears more alert than we’ve been made to believe. In a fascinating twist of reality, the father then removes the tubes attached to his face and body, walks to the kitchen, pours himself a drink, and delivers a monologue about his daughters and his love for New York. This scene seems almost dreamlike — eventually revealed as a fantasy. However, it gives off an air of being from another film, serving as a convenient device for reconciliation and closure that doesn’t stimulate much introspection or thought-provoking reflection. It feels more like the director, Jacobs, struggled to find a suitable ending for his movie and decided against ending it with a simple, sentimental scene of a man dying. In some way, we suspect, he too is grappling with the concept of death, mirroring the struggles of his characters.

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2024-09-20 19:53