His Three Daughters Review: An Unremarkable Sibling Tale Backed by Three Remarkable Performances

Warning: This review of His Three Daughters is from the Toronto International Film Festival and may contain spoilers.

His Three Daughters tells the tale of sibling indifference in all its ugly, unblinking glory.

The story is driven by the “What ifs?” of three sisters forced into a confined space as they await their father’s passing. As tension gets to the group, the premise questions whether their grief can puncture the childhood walls built to keep each other out.

It is compelling and cathartic, with a confining scope that is uncomfortably realistic for those who know what it feels like to be trapped in the unforgiving cycle of caring for a sick loved one.

No matter how much this premise wavers on its feet, Elizabeth Olsen, Natasha Lyonne, and Carrie Coon stand tall in their convictions. The result is a mixed-bag plot leveraged by three brilliant performances.

Written, directed, and edited by Azazel Jacobs, His Three Daughters delves into the fascinating lore of sibling relationships.

The concept of complicated women becoming even more complex in sisterhood is prime time for those award-season showcases. The issue lies in the direction which glosses over the beauty and frustration of sisterhood. Much of this film could swap out its three sisters for any other family dynamic, and it still would not impact the film.

It is easy to answer “why” we should care, but “why” should we care that they’re sisters? The movie needs to cater to the female experience and the perseverance of sisterhood above blood — because what we see of it during those fleeting exchanges of tenderness between Coon’s Katie and Lyonne’s Rachel is aching.

Additionally, if you commit to the theatrical experience of sequestering us to one setting — do not relent. When Rachel takes us out of the scene to go shopping, she breaks the spell of the apartment’s suffocating intensity.

That said, the gold mine at this film’s disposal is its actors. So, I commend the nature of this plot for removing all external distractions so it can focus on them.

Coon’s Katie is the perfect antagonist, compelling and irritating as she strolls into Rachel’s apartment with preconceived notions that she is the only one capable of caring for their father.

As Rachel challenges this assumption — or, more frustratingly, doesn’t — it festers a heated anguish in the audience. You want to feel for the eldest daughter who tries to help in her stubborn way, but seeing how easily Katie puts down the half-sister who cared for their father when she couldn’t is downright upsetting.

Olsen plays the youngest daughter persona with a sensitive demeanor that allows her to be a much-needed peacekeeper and a ticking time bomb when the conflict escalates. She is a brilliant calateral, expressing the extremes the other two sisters keep locked up.

It’s a shame Christina is relegated to an echo in the group scenes when the film could have utilized her grief more in the one-on-one scenes as it was utalized in Olsen’s series Sorry for Your Loss.

The MVP of this film is, no doubt, Lyonne’s Rachel. She is the likable black sheep protagonist with a complicated backstory and a deep desire to be accepted by her family the way their father accepted her.

The film establishes Rachel has already earned her spot at the table. Still, Lyonne lends a bravado to the role that is sickeningly frustrating in its genius. No matter how much we want her to take a stand against Katie, the character never feels she needs to prove herself.

Underneath, you can feel the pain and frustration in Lyonne’s performance, festering uncomfortably.

Her grief over losing her best friend and father isn’t voiced out loud, but it is present in her vacant stares and isolating body language. Rachel holds her sorrow deep inside, and as each sister pushes her to the breaking point, you can see her only double down on internalizing that pain.

It is in the unrelenting quiet that Lyonne does her best work. As such, Rachel will win you over, but not before she breaks your heart.

We are used to this actress being the comedic relief, drawing attention to herself with a distinct voice and wit. Here, Lyonne weaponizes that captivating likeability so that in a muted atmosphere void of enjoyment, she can still find a way to entertain us with a dynamic lead.

As tricky as endings are, you must leave people satisfied. This ending does not do that.

We could praise His Three Daughters for thinking outside the box. But establishing a no-nonsense theatrical story of grief and then throwing a hallucination into the final scene clashes with the earnest worldbuilding.

This fatherly hallucination is beyond confusing in the moment, ripping you out of the vortex of emotions the three sisters have brewed to a boiling point.

I won’t outright claim that the “it was a dream” twists are the worst cough-outs in cinematic storytelling. But they can be shoddy storytelling tools, and His Three Daughters doesn’t need to resort to cheap tricks. Yet, this haunting showcase of family and illness throws that sensibility away for shock value.

The plot’s heart is in the right place, given the desire to reunite these daughters with their father one last time. However, it is not worth polarizing the audience to the point that they overlook this film’s excellent parts.

Much like family itself, you will come out of this flick with complicated feelings.

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His Three Daughters premieres September 20 on Netflix.

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