Death is a peculiar concept – it is something we all understand is inevitable, and it can be argued it always sits at the back of our minds. Yet, artistically it feels like it is a subject that is both present in many works, but still hasn’t quite been entirely understood. The reality is that death is not something anyone knows how to process or interpret, even if it is perhaps the one universal inevitability that we are all going to experience at some point. Additionally, there are so many elements associated with the process of dying, that no single work can ever capture it in its entirety – but this hasn’t stopped many exceptional artists over the centuries from staking their claim in the conversation and examining this subject from a range of different perspectives. In the case of Azazel Jacobs, he is not a stranger to discussions surrounding the circumstances surrounding death, with a few of his previous works being centred around the subject. However, it’s his most recent that is perhaps the most explicitly daring in how it provokes some harrowing themes. His Three Daughters is set in an apartment somewhere in New York City – in one of the rooms, a patriarch is dying, with the doctors and hospice staff believing that he is on the verge of his final moments, which necessitates the arrival of his three daughters, who make the decision to spend their father’s final few days by his side, hoping to be there when he finally passes, in an effort to make his transition as painless as possible – not only for his sake, but also their own, considering the bureaucratic challenges that stand ahead of them when it comes to the passing of a relative. A deeply melancholic drama that is as challenging as it is poetic, His Three Daughters is not an easy film, both in theory and execution – the themes that Jacobs evokes are common enough to resonate with a large portion of the viewership, but has certain niche qualities that feel genuinely unique, particularly in how he presents them as bespoke additions to a much broader discussion on the transition between life and death, and the impact such a change can leave on those who remain behind, specifically in how they confront their own personal understanding of the eternally ambigious nature of mortality.

There are countless ways to explore the subject of death, particularly from the perspective of the loved ones who are forced to confront the fact that someone they know and adore is dying, or at least on the precipice. There is a moment in the journey of the family and friends of anyone who is terminally ill when the patient turns the corner, and it is determined that they are in the final stretch of their battle with their disease or condition, which some view as a blessing (as it gives them time to say goodbye and resolve any unfinished business), whereas others perceive it as an elongation of the eventual grief, perhaps even an effort to prematurely propel them into the state of despair as they watch the person they love withering away. His Three Daughters is set in the final few days of the life of a man who lived a fulfilling life, albeit one that is clearly being cut short, based on what we hear from the characters throughout the film. It takes place in that ambigious space between life and death – the patriarch of this family has declined rapidly to the point where even a basic conversation is viewed as a miracle, and a few words are embraced and cherished, even if they contain very little meaning. For many, this period is the most difficult – watching a loved one slowly die, patiently waiting for their final breath (and being terrified of missing it due to trivial reasons, such as simply not being in the room at the time it happens) can take an enormous emotional toll, and the moment where death finally makes its appearance can almost be a relief, since it means this period of anxiously waiting for some development comes to an end, and some conclusion can be reached, even if it isn’t a pleasant one. Jacobs is a director whose perspective is always firmly rooted in a strong sense of existential philosophy, but he doesn’t allow it to envelope the entire narrative, and rather than crafting a didactic examination of grief through evoking the likes of Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and her “Five Stages of Grief” (which many filmmakers and writers have used as a crutch in their own examinations of the mourning process), he chooses to go in his own daring, complex direction, which makes a considerable difference and allows His Three Daughters to flourish into a masterful work of incredible insight and profound complexity.

His Three Daughters has been marketed as a film not only about anticipating the death of a loved one, but also a family drama about taking the opportunity presented by a loved one’s demise to work through personal issues with other relatives. This is another common tactic, whereby the idea of a family being united to mourn the death of a loved one is used as the foundation for an examination of trauma and an attempt to investigate the wounds that linger over time, and which can only be resolved through directly embracing them. This is where Jacobs takes the biggest risks, and finds the most substantial rewards, since the only way to explore this subject is either through defaulting to the same hackneyed, trite emotions, or presenting this experience in as authentic and meaningful a manner as possible. It’s clear what approach the director takes, and in both structure and intention, His Three Daughters is an achingly beautiful film that is driven by its simplicity more than its concept. It is set entirely within an apartment (although it never feels like a cliche-riddled stage-to-screen adaptation, where the limited setting disguises deficiencies in the storytelling and direction), and prioritizes the relationship between the core characters, focusing in the most genuine and human emotions. There are some brutal moments, but never once does the director veer towards the hysterical in any conceivable way, avoiding the temptation to go for the low-hanging fruit and instead choosing to maintain an elegant, heartfelt approach that may be more harsh and callous at times, but compensates for this narrative coldness with a sense of genuine affection for its characters. The tone is straightforward, and there isn’t any need to deceive or trick the viewer – the structure is simple and direct, and Jacobs never feels compelled to go too far into the details, instead choosing to allow us to form our own relationship with these characters. The balance of different tones, as well as the gradual shift between more lighthearted moments and those of extraordinary sadness, is masterful and indicates that Jacobs (who has made several exceptional films in the past) is a truly generational talent and someone who needed a film like His Three Daughters to finally be viewed as a filmmaker of exceptional virtue and vision.

Jacobs may be a visionary filmmaker with a strong command of both language and visuals (the film evokes mid-period Woody Allen and Ingmar Bergman in terms of both, being a well-written but visually austere family drama), but he is not isolated in his efforts to bring this story to life. Instead, he enlists three exceptionally gifted actors to interpret these roles, allowing them to turn in performances that may come to be seen as some of the best of their career to date. Carrie Coon holds court as the pernickety Cathy, who wants to be in control and asserts a kind of authority over her sisters, believing she is the most deserving person to steer this process, although she gradually reveals herself to be just as insecure and afraid. Elizabeth Olsen is the idiosyncratic Christina, who hides her deep sadness under layers of quirky, offbeat charm that she believes brings some much-needed warmth and levity to the proceedings but masks her melancholy. Natasha Lyonne is probably the best performance in the cast, delivering her greatest performance yet (and I would not be surprised to see this become the most acclaimed work of her entire career), as she is simply extraordinary. She doesn’t abandon the ramshackle charm that has made her so popular, but rather filters it through a more complex lens, playing the part of Rachel with a profound sadness, which is concealed under layers of humour. Her moments of wordless sadness are perhaps the most impactful, and the camera lingers on her more than it does the other two, proving that she is the emotional anchor of the film. Jacobs makes several decisions with these characters – we learn early on that one of them is not directly related to the other two (only being adopted by their father in one of his marriages), but the revelation of who it is only comes late in the film, and we also never have a clear understanding of how the siblings are arranged in age, preventing the film from being able to depend on hierarchy of birth as a power dynamic, which is a very cliched trope. Ultimately, all Jacobs and the cast do is work together to carve this captivating portrait of these three women who are grieving the imminent loss of their father in their way. It’s exceptional work from the entire ensemble, and they all do spectacular, compelling work that allows us to overcome any sense of incredulity that these three very different actors could be related since the power of their performances is more than convincing.

His Three Daughters is a deft, highwire act of a film, consisting of a number of tonal shifts and narrative complexities that make it far more than just a simple family-based drama about death and the challenges that surround it. Jacobs keeps everything in this film extremely realistic and honest, balancing gentle humour with hard-hitting drama, crafting a tragicomic depiction of three very different women coming together to prepare for their father’s death, and in the process working through their quandaries and healing the wounds that drove them apart. When a hospice worker at the start of the film tells the sisters that they should take the opportunity to resolve any unfinished business, we initially thought he meant with their father, but the film gradually reveals that what needed to be mended was their sisterly relationship, which undergoes many challenges throughout the film and emerges entirely changed by the time those hauntingly beautiful final moments fade away and we are left with nothing but our reflections. Some of us watch this film blessed with the knowledge that we still have living parents, whereas others may relive the trauma of losing a loved one, and others may take a position in between the two extremes. The brilliance of this film is that it tells a very specific story, but in a way that is broad enough that we can find resonance – we may be able to relate to one of these characters or find value in a particular conversation or situation. Even if we exist outside this particular socio-cultural milieu, there are elements of this film that are universal, and the simple, unfurnished style of filmmaking allows us to encounter several different concepts, many of which will be extremely relevant to our own lives. Anchored by incredible performances, driven by a consistently poignant tone that is effective but never manipulative, and earnest in how it handles some of its more unwieldy subject matter, His Three Daughters is an exceptional achievement and a truly masterful piece of filmmaking in its own right.