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When a person wants to do just one thing in their life, just one, any hurdle that comes in their way can take a life-or-death significance. For instance, the only thing that Rachel wants to do in the new Netflix film His Three Daughters is to peacefully smoke her pot, preferably in the privacy of her own bedroom. But the moment she lights up, her shrill sister Katie appears out of the blue with a stern expression on her face. When she tries to smoke outside, perched on a quiet park bench, a security guy sheepishly shows up to tell her that the neighbours probably wouldn’t appreciate it. In Rachel’s world, warped as it has been by the impending demise of her father, the simple act of smoking a blunt is no different from trouncing death itself.
But she can’t. She knows it, as do her sisters, who’ve briefly moved into her New York City home to participate in perhaps the most morbid activity a human being could — Rachel, Katie, and Christina have congregated in the cramped apartment to bear witness to the slow passing of their father. Played by Natasha Lyonne, Carrie Coon, and Elizabeth Olsen, the three sisters couldn’t be more different from each other, and their conflicting personalities offer writer-director Azazel Jacobs plenty of opportunity to concoct drama. They can barely see eye to eye in the film’s first act, as they rustle up some necessary paperwork, listen patiently to a hospice worker who sagely predicts every morning that the end is nigh, all the while passive aggressively bickering among each other.
Jacobs makes sure to frame them individually in the first half-hour, as if the very idea of sharing the frame will lead one of them to spontaneously combust on screen. They are each given a monologue of sorts, which sets the stage — forgive the pun — for a particularly theatrical exercise. The entire film unfolds inside the small-ish apartment, and briefly, if Rachel can get away with it, in the courtyard outside. But there is enough light in the film’s heart to swat away the pall of doom that hangs over virtually every interaction.
The three sisters aren’t quite estranged. In fact, technically speaking, they aren’t even sisters. Christina and Katie are related by blood, but Rachel was adopted by their father after he married her mother. It’s a complex set-up, and their ever-evolving dynamic sort of reflects the unspoken nuances of their relationship. It would be difficult to navigate even if their father wasn’t dying in the next room. The only way that Rachel can deal with all of this — losing a parent, dealing with the distance between her and her sisters, handling her personal insecurities — is by smoking some pot. If only the universe would let her.
She’s the one that Jacobs keeps returning to, almost as if, like Rachel, he is desperate for a breather as well. She’s the one we spend the most time with alone, even though, for all intents and purposes, His Three Daughters is a three-hander. We don’t spend nearly enough time with either Katie, the Type-A personality, or Christina, who appears to be headed in wine-mom direction. They’re all on the verge of falling apart. But Jacobs makes the pointed decision to never show their dying father; he remains off-screen, always in the room just outside of our view, as if the movie itself is repressing reality. That is, until the third act rolls around. It would be unfair to reveal what happens, but suffice to say, it is a difficult one to predict.
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There is a certain conventionality to the film’s structural beats, even if the filmmaking is highly unconventional. Nobody speaks quite like these women, who tend to favour impassioned, borderline one-note monologues over regular conversation. The performances seem… more performative than lived in. It’s not that they’re all off-tune – this is exactly what Jacobs wants them to do – but you have to wonder why they’ve been asked to play the scenes this way.
Had the colour palette been slightly more exaggerated, there would have been a temptation to draw comparisons to the similarly stylised work of Aki Kaurismäki. Certainly, the dying father, when he finally appears, looks like a character out of one of the Finnish master’s fables. But while Kaurismäki is often able to strike profound notes with minimal movement, Jacobs struggles to achieve the ambitious targets that he’s set for himself. Perhaps this is why he chooses to swing hard with that climax. Nevertheless, His Three Daughters has a quietness that feels vital, especially on a platform that would — let’s be honest — much rather you watch the Menendez brothers gun their dad down over three sisters waiting for theirs to die in his sleep.
His Three Daughters
Director – Azazel Jacobs
Cast – Elizabeth Olsen, Carrie Coon, Natasha Lyonne, Jay O Sanders, Jovan Adepo, Rudy Galvan
Rating – 3/5
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