Azazel Jacobs’ “His Three Daughters” is not just a film; it’s a sartorial and emotional journey that’s as chic as it is heart-wrenching.
Picture this: three sisters, each a vibrant thread in the tapestry of New York’s elite, converge in a Manhattan apartment that’s more Architectural Digest than silver screen cliché. It’s here, in this urban sanctuary, that we witness a family drama unfold with the precision of a Valentino couture collection.
At the heart of this stylish triad is Natasha Lyonne, her flame-red tresses a beacon in the storm of familial tension. Lyonne’s Rachel is the enfant terrible of the bunch, a hummingbird spirit trapped in the amber of familial duty. Her oversized eyes, reminiscent of a Twiggy-esque ingénue, speak volumes in silence – a testament to the power of a well-placed gaze in both cinema and on the catwalk.
Carrie Coon’s Katie struts into frame as if fresh off the Balenciaga runway, all sharp angles and sharper tongue. She’s the Phoebe Philo of the family – practical, authoritative, and utterly uncompromising. Meanwhile, Elizabeth Olsen’s Christina breezes in from the West Coast, a picture of Californian cool that would make even the most jaded fashion editor swoon. She’s the family’s Stella McCartney – ethically minded and perpetually seeking harmony.
The apartment, oh darlings, is a masterclass in understated chic. It’s not about ostentation; it’s about the subtle details that whisper rather than scream luxury. Think ‘The Row’ meets real life – a curated collection of memories and tchotchkes that tell a story more compelling than any fashion week narrative.
As the sisters orbit their fading patriarch, played with gravitas by Jay O. Sanders, we’re treated to a carousel of supporting characters who could easily be plucked from the pages of our very own Harper’s Bazaar. There’s Angel, the hospice worker with a name that could grace the bottle of the next must-have fragrance, and Victor, the security guard whose uniform somehow manages to look straight off a Virgil Abloh mood board.
But it’s in the quiet moments – a head resting on a shoulder, a glance across a room – that Jacobs truly captures the essence of what makes fashion and film kindred spirits. It’s about the unspoken, the implied, the space between the threads that gives a garment its drape and a story its soul.
“His Three Daughters” isn’t just a movie; it’s a mood, a moment, a mirror held up to our chicest, most vulnerable selves. It reminds us that even in our darkest hours, there’s room for a perfectly timed quip or a statement accessory. After all, darlings, style is eternal, even when life is fleeting.
As the credits roll and the lights come up, one can’t help but feel as though they’ve just witnessed the most exclusive of fashion shows – one where the models bare not just couture, but their very souls. And isn’t that, my dears, the very pinnacle of style?
