‘His Three Daughters’ Movie Review: Elizabeth Olsen, Carrie Coon and Natasha Lyonne Write a Soul-Stirring Sisterhood in Devastating Family Drama

In He has three daughtersDirector Azazel Jacobs crafts a subtle and tightly wound meditation on family grief, which might seem like a run-of-the-mill stage play narrative, into a rich, textured portrait of three estranged sisters facing the loss of their father. What elevates an otherwise quiet chamber piece into something extraordinary is a trio of mesmerizing performances by Carrie Coon, Natasha Lyonne and Elizabeth Olsen – each offering a unique perspective on how loss shapes us in unexpected, sometimes devastating, ways.

The film’s premise is simple but emotionally charged: three grown sisters — Katie (Coon), Rachel (Lyon) and Christina (Olsen) — gather in their childhood New York apartment to care for their dying father, Vincent (Jay O’Sanders). . What emerges in the film’s taut runtime is not an Oscar-betty, melodramatic race or a Shakespearean battle for succession, but a complex, often quietly devastating examination of what it means to live in the shadow of a loved one’s impending death. . Jacobs, also the writer, eschews clichés and easy emotional beats, choosing instead to inhabit the awkward exchanges and lingering resentments that have simmered between these women for decades.

Coon’s Katie, the eldest and most fragile of the trio, carries the weight of eldest-child obligations with an exercised sense of control. There’s a tension in her every gesture, her clipped speech betraying a woman who has taken on the mantle of responsibility, not out of love, because someone had to. Katie’s decision to make her father sign a DNR order seems almost villainous in its cold realism, but Coon masterfully hints at a deep, quiet desperation—an ache to control at least one aspect of an uncontrollable situation.

A still from ‘His Three Daughters’ Photo credit: Netflix

In stark contrast, Olsen’s Christina is the picture of tenderness, the embodiment of pure, if naïve (and almost crazy), optimism. A devoted wife and mother, Christina’s practices of spiritual calm and mindfulness show her, early on, ill-prepared to handle the impending tragedy. Yet Olsen imbues the character with an inexplicable resilience; Beneath the surface of his calm demeanor lies a deep sadness, a quiet realization that all the positive thoughts in the world cannot stave off the inevitable.

But Leone’s Rachel becomes the film’s emotional linchpin. The pot-smoking, middle child has lived with their father for years in the family’s rent-controlled apartment, watching him deteriorate while numbing himself with sports bets and hours of blunts. Leone’s performance is raw, unvarnished and profoundly telling. There’s a wry sense of humor to Rachel’s attempts to outwit her sisters, but also a vulnerability that cuts deep. She’s the one who apparently bears the emotional scars of their shared history, and Leon brings that tension to life, caught between duty, guilt, and the desire to escape.

The film’s beating heart lies in the unspoken. The apartment itself, where most of the action unfolds, becomes a character of its own – a claustrophobic, memory-laden space where every corner carries the weight of unresolved tension. Francis Ha Cinematographer Sam Levy’s camera captures this with a deliberate, almost menacing gaze, following the sisters as they move through the room like trapped animals, their every gaze laden with unspoken resentment and unresolved sadness.

And yet, Jacobs doesn’t let the film sink into despair. There is a tender, almost hopeful quality to the way the story unfolds, especially in its final act, in which the much-mentioned, ailing father, J.O. Sanders, delivers a single heartbreaking monologue that recaps everything that came before it. . This shattering scene shows how little time we have with those we love, and how often we waste that time with pettiness, fear, and anger.

A still from ‘His Three Daughters’ Photo credit: Netflix

What makes the direction so deeply moving is the way Jacobs sidesteps the predictable rhythms of grief drama. He’s not interested in grand gestures or cathartic blowouts; Rather, he dwells on the moments in between — bitter silences, half-finished sentences, fleeting glances that reveal more than any climactic speech. This is a film about absence – not just the absence of the father – but the absences that defined these women’s relationships with each other.

While the film does not build to a typical emotional crescendo, it does reach a quiet, devastating conclusion. There is no easy catharsis, no big tearful reunion. Instead, Jacobs offers something more nuanced and, perhaps, more honest: the idea that grief, like family, is messy, unresolved, and often full of loose ends. The sisters don’t walk away with all their wounds healed, but they walk away. And in the end, that seems like enough.

He has three daughters A film less about death than life — about the painful, imperfect ways we try to hold on to those we love, even as they slip through our fingers. It’s the story of three women who, in their own flawed, uncomfortable ways, are trying to reconcile who they’ve become with the children they once had, and the simplicity of the concept makes it so brilliantly affecting.

Her Three Daughters is currently available to stream on Netflix