‘His Three Daughters’ Review: Netflix Drama Is a Mesmerizing Character Study

Carrie Coon, Natasha Lyonne and Elizabeth Olsen are sisters waiting for their father to die in Azazel Jacobs’ heartbreaking film

"His Three Daughters" (Credit: Sam Levy/Netflix)
"His Three Daughters" (Credit: Sam Levy/Netflix)

I believe it was George Michael who sang that “time can never mend these careless sisters,” but then again my cassette was badly warped and I may have misheard him. In any case, he was wrong. I suspect time can indeed mend sisters who struggle to care for each other, for I have seen Azazel Jacobs’ exquisite new drama “His Three Daughters,” which features not one but three incredible performances from three incredible stars.

“His Three Daughters” stars Carrie Coon, Natasha Lyonne and Elizabeth Olsen as Katie, Rachel and Christina. They’re sisters, their father is in hospice, and he could die at any moment. Or days from now. Or weeks. If you’ve ever lived through a similar situation then you know it can involve an awful lot of waiting, an awful lot of worrying and an awful lot of soul-searching. It’s just awful.

Everyone keeps telling Katie, Rachel and Christina that they’re lucky they don’t have to go through this alone, but they’re not so sure. Katie and Christina couldn’t be more different — Katie is hyper-controlling and passive-aggressive, Christina is airy and considerate to a fault — but they’re close enough that they have their own twin-speak, which only they can understand. Rachel is their stepsister, and although they treat her like the black sheep, questioning all her choices and judging her for not taking up as many responsibilities in their father’s final moments, they seem oblivious to the fact that Rachel was the one living with and taking care of him for years, while they barely even visited.

The first half of “His Three Daughters” is a tour de force of miscommunication, in which Rachel shuts down in the face of her domineering siblings, and is forced to rework her whole life around their needs. They make her leave her own house to smoke weed, which gets her through her stressful days. “That’s how I do shit,” she simply explains, but now she has to do shit outside, a gesture of respect they don’t give her in return. Not at all.

It would be easy to sympathize exclusively with Rachel. Azazel Jacobs’ screenplay is incredibly even-handed but Lyonne’s quietude is all the more potent in the face of Coon’s and Olsen’s verbose anxieties. Next to her sisters, Rachel is quiet and non-confrontational, just trying to survive in a harsh environment. Outside she’s friendly and confident, a beloved member of her community, not that her sisters seem to notice.

But this is a noble three-hander, a showcase for all three performers, and they all rise to their occasions. Katie’s micromanagement is an upsetting way to love people, and it’s made her resentful of the leadership role she thinks she has to take. She hides her judgment behind unconvincing apologies and rambling monologues designed to make her feel better about herself, even as it makes others feel worse. But she also feels bad that they feel worse, at least after she’s confronted with how mean she is.

And poor Christina, she’s a former Grateful Deadhead who now has a child of her own, and seems desperate to take on the maternal qualities that were apparently quite absent in their lives. But she doesn’t know how to care for Rachel, in particular, because for a variety of reasons — mostly bad, but all understandable — she doesn’t know her own sister. The horror of “His Three Daughters” is the encroaching, sad suspicion that maybe these rifts can’t be healed. These sisters don’t have enough care. Time can never mend them. Cue the saxophone solo.

There isn’t much plot to parse through but there’s an overwhelming amount of story. Jacobs films “His Three Daughters” in limited locations, with cinematography — by Sam Levy, who seems to specialize in thoughtful dramas about women and their relationships (“Lady Bird,” “Frances Ha”) — that rarely calls attention to how thoughtful and precise it is. The film takes place in a working class apartment, complete with those sickly yellow bulbs that make everything look like an old memory even as it’s happening. It’s a place we know well, full of little details that are specific to these characters.

As for their father, he’s dying in the other room, and we don’t spend time in there. He’s Katie, Rachel and Christina’s heart, their connection, and yet he’s also a problem to be solved. A story that’s waiting to end. And it’s uncertain whether there will be any new stories without him; at least not with all of these women, who may or may not ever figure out how to be a family without that shared figurehead between them.

“His Three Daughters” is a mesmerizing study anchored by three incredible leads, each working at the height of their craft. The material is rife for exploration, rich with nuance and discoveries. And the ending packs a wallop. This is — to quote George Michael again (and slightly more accurately) — the silver screen, with all its sad goodbyes.

“His Three Daughters” is now playing in select theaters and premieres on Netflix on Sept. 20.

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