Let me get into this straightaway. [Spoilers Ahead] During the climax of His Three Daughters, Jay. O. Sanders’ Vincent, aka the father, doesn’t magically get better and give that monologue to his daughters right before his death. Given the condition of his health throughout the movie, that seems quite impossible. Makes sense that didn’t happen, then. What really happened was that Katie, Christina, and Rachel took their father to his favorite lounge chair, where he died. Before his death, though, Vincent did briefly regain consciousness, but that’s about it. However, the important thing here is that the man actually got to see his three daughters united on one front while they were carrying him to his favorite plush chair. That’s the memory he left with, which does matter a lot here.Â
What exactly happened then? Well, Azazel Jacobs’ film took a sudden narrative shift where you, the audience, get to see a projection of Vincent’s thoughts while the man was actually dying in his chair. Until this very moment, you haven’t seen the character (even though he’s very much present in the film), and all you’ve tried is to get an idea of the man from what you hear from his daughters. You’ve seen Katie trying so hard to come up with the perfect eulogy for her father and failing to do so. Then you see her try to take help from Rachel, who describes their father in a more candid, humane manner (better than Katie’s for sure) but still not quite getting there. Then there’s Christina, who shares her most precious memory with Vincent before coming up with the analogy she picked up from her father—you only really know someone once that person is not around anymore. Just when you think you’ll never actually see Vincent, the film subverts that expectation of yours with this jarring tonal shift that you don’t see coming. I don’t know if the ending of His Three Daughters sits right with you, but I’ve got to say the choice Jacobs has made here is pretty audacious and actually elevates the whole experience. There’s this final shot of Vincent on his chair, already dead (judging by his expression and the daughters’ reaction around their father); while his astral projection sits on the windowsill, looking down at his body. It’s all but a confirmation of the entire conversation Vincent had with his three daughters not being actually real. It’s most likely a manifestation of regret that you’re seeing on the screen.
Being an ardent fan of American independent cinema since forever, I thought the ending of His Three Daughters was particularly exceptional, and I even sensed a familiarity. Jacobs’ film did remind me of quite a few American Indies (across all genres really) that have pleasantly surprised their audience in the end, in an unexpected manner. Indie darling Mark Duplass and Aubrey Plaza starrer 2012 sci-fi comedy Safety Not Guaranteed, where a journalist gets intrigued by the prospect of a random man finding a way to travel back in time, is a profound example of that. So is the Bill Skarsgard starrer fantastic 2022 indie horror Barbarian, where the character of Justin Long is suddenly dropped into the narrative and changes the course of the whole film. Azazel Jacobs’ own The Lovers (2017) is another example where a couple, about to be separated thanks to adulteries, suddenly fall for each other – thus complicating the whole situation. Point being, this storytelling technique, where a film suddenly going against tropes is a refreshing thing about modern-day cinema. Speaking of Jacobs, it’s remarkable how confidently the director handles emotion in his films and shows it in the most realistic possible ways. His Three Daughters is no exception.
I really like it when a film doesn’t overly rely on flashbacks, montages, and a cool soundtrack in order to tell a story, and His Three Daughters happens to ace it there. All we see here is people talking, crying, and fighting. They’re mostly confined to inside the apartment, which further adds to the sense of suffocation and uneasiness, which is visible in their relationship. This is certainly very Noah Baumbach territory, and I’m sure when/if Baumbach watches His Three Daughters, he would be very proud of what Jacobs has pulled off here. Of course, Jacobs needs to thank his ensemble here, who makes the film what it is. Not that I’m taking any credit away from the man, who has written such a fantastic screenplay and then edited the whole thing all by himself; but when you have talents like Carrie Coon, Elizabeth Olsen, and Natasha Lyonne at your disposal, then half of your job is already done. Not only should all of them easily feature in every single list of the best working actresses in Hollywood at the moment, they all bring something different to the table. Lyonne’s performance is especially magnificent, and the one I can relate to the most. By that, I mean the representation of grief here, which is different for every single individual, which we often fail to realize.
The whole point of His Three Daughters has to be Vincent’s three daughters finally being able to work on their interpersonal issues and coming together. Vincent’s death is a catalyst here. Grief is often a strange thing that ultimately ends up uniting people. The very last scene of His Three Daughters is an indication of that, even though it’s Rachel sitting on the bench outside the apartment all alone. Katie and Christina might not be there physically, but the bond between the sisters is actually stronger than ever now. If that’s not a genuinely positive ending, then what is?
