His Three Daughters Review

In a tense exploration of grief and family dynamics, His Three Daughters plunges headfirst into the volatile reunion of three semi-estranged sisters as they confront their father’s imminent death. Carrie Coon commands attention as the eldest, embodying the rigid, take-charge matriarch role with an air of weary determination. Elizabeth Olsen plays the meticulous middle sister, who strives for peace and perfection in a bid to maintain some semblance of control. Natasha Lyonne rounds out the trio as Rachel, the wayward youngest sibling who seems detached, disinterested, and unapologetically rebellious. Rachel isn’t a biological daughter, and the tension around this fact permeates the film from the very beginning. She’s the black sheep – smoking weed indoors and neglecting even the simplest responsibilities like doing her dishes. It would be easy to write her off as a selfish hedonist, but His Three Daughters refuses to take the easy route. Instead, it peels back the layers, depicting a woman caught between the desperation to belong and the resentment of always being on the outside with her defiance being less about rebellion and more a defence mechanism.

And yet, the most interesting part of the film is seeing your expectations of the characters, and the archetypal stereotypes of them that are so boldly established in the opening scene, be completely unravelled. These sisters are all human beings in a state of immense grief, no matter how highly strung or standoffish they may appear, and it is this complex portrayal of ever-changing dynamics that makes the film appealing. Director Azazel Jacobs knows exactly what he’s doing with the understated script – the conversations feel natural and organic and yet the film manages to feel thematically complex whilst remaining entrenched in verisimilitude. As the film reaches its dénouement – we see these established dynamics shift and it’s worth pointing out just how good the central performances are, particularly Lyonne. Hiding behind her veneer of edge, she paints a picture of a character who is deeply hurting but has no intention of showing it any time soon out of fear.

The film is ultimately about perspective. Each of the three daughters formed their memories of their father at different times and stages of his life, resulting in distinct, subjective versions of who he was. Anyone who has experienced grief will deeply relate to this film – it captures the poignant questions that linger in the aftermath of loss – the “what I could have said” and the “how can I remember him well enough?” whilst also delving into the paradox of familial intimacy – we believe we know our family members intimately, but once we step away, it’s easy to view them through the lens of our own experiences and emotions. Distance can breed resentment, particularly if it appears that someone else had a ‘better’ or ‘easier’ version of the family we grew up in. Yet, what we often overlook is the struggle and growth happening behind the scenes, realities that were invisible to us whilst we were busy navigating our own lives.

The film is powerful, funny, and exceptionally well-acted, and it was mostly a joy to watch, even if it was slightly overlong. I must warn you to have some tissues alongside you if you choose to watch – even the hardest of shells will inevitably crack. Can we start a Natasha Lyonne Oscar nomination campaign now?