Review: Director Azazel Jacobs gives “His Three Daughters” a frenzied tension and the feeling that love has many faces

No flashy special effects. No high-speed chases. No fanged monsters. All the fireworks in His Three Daughters, in theaters now and premiering on Netflix on September 20, are created through human interaction, creating a miniature milestone about the wounds in the heart.

Gifted screenwriter and director Azazel Jacobs (“Momma's Man,” “French Exit”) leads three fine actresses – Carrie Coon, Elizabeth Olsen and Natasha Lyonne – through this piercingly funny and deeply sad chamber piece as sisters coping with the impending death of their father.

If you're afraid of a dreary march into the gloom of the dead, then brace yourself. Jacobs doesn't make plodding, self-pitying melodrama, preferring to use humor to lighten the mood even in the worst of circumstances. Shot by the talented Sam Levy in a real rent-controlled two-bedroom Manhattan apartment, the film carves its own path into the question of what makes a family.

While their mostly invisible father Vincent (Jay O. Sanders) lies dying, the women argue about things big and small. When there is laughter, it is of the hurtful kind, as when older sister Katie (Coon), who rarely visits from nearby Brooklyn, attacks middle sister Rachel (Lyonne, excellent), from another mother who worked as the father's home nurse.

Youngest sister Christina is played by Olsen as the trio's peacemaker, but she has a tough time of it, as Katie accuses Rachel of smoking weed, betting on sports, having a black boyfriend (a great Jovan Adepo), and her supposed negligence in not getting her father to sign a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate). The fact that Rachel will inherit the apartment is a thorn in Katie's side.

Angel (Rudy Galvan), a hospice nurse, also appears in the story as the sisters each plan a path for the time after the death of their father, who kept them all together.

Jacobs brings a chilling tension to His Three Daughters, conveying the sense that love has many faces, not just one mask of grief that fits all. When Rachel is asked to help write her father's obituary, she replies, “I married some crazy women and raised some crazy women.”

The three stars all made their names in film, but are probably best known for their recent and distinctive television work – Coon as a controlling society lady in “The Gilded Age,” Olsen as Scarlet Witch in “WandaVision” and Lyonne as a volatile cocktail waitress in “Poker Face” with the uncanny ability to tell when someone is lying.

The brutal honesty of Lyonne's portrayal of Rachel shows that she has that ability. Lyonne steals every scene she's in. Her throaty voice and uncompromising attitude suggest a woman who doesn't bother to put on a front. Her award-winning performance is unmissable and unforgettable.

Remarkably, a portrait of the father also emerges. Until the end, when Sanders briefly lends Vincent his voice, the father is little more than the beeping of a heart monitor from another room. But through the conflicting memories of his three daughters, Vincent becomes a fully-fledged man in a film that is by turns funny, touching and lively.