Death is not like in the movies, explains a character in “ His three daughters. “Christina, played by Elizabeth Olsen, tells her sisters Katie (Carrie Coon) and Rachel (Natasha Lyonne) a story about their father, who became particularly agitated one evening after the death of his wife while watching a movie on television.

It is not a nice memory or a nice gift for any of them. After all, this film is also about death.

The three women have gathered in their father’s small New York apartment for his final days. He is barely conscious and locked in a room that they take turns guarding as they wait out the agonizingly indeterminate time. But even without the stress of the hospice, tensions would be high for Christina, Katie and Rachel: they are estranged and almost strangers, and they are losing the only bond that still binds them. Taken together, it’s a pressure cooker and a wonderful showcase for three talented actors.

Writer-director Azazel Jacobs wrote and shot His Three Daughters, which streams Friday on Netflix, like a play. The dialogue often sounds scripted rather than conversational (except for Lyonne, who makes everything sound like her own); the settings are essentially limited to a handful of rooms in the apartment, with the shared courtyard providing a tiny bit of open space.

Jacobs throws the audience into the thick of the action, slowly and deliberately divulging background information. Coon’s Katie has the first word, a monologue, really, about the state of affairs as she sees it and how it will all work. She is the eldest, a Type A bundle of angst, the mother of a difficult teenage daughter, and the type of person who can barely conceal disappointment or deep resentment. Katie also lives in Brooklyn, not far from her father, but rarely visits him. Caregiving duties have been left to Lyonne’s Rachel, an unemployed stoner who has never left home, loves to bet on football games, and is about to inherit the apartment – to the not-so-subtle resentment of her sisters. The youngest is Christina, an unworldly, conflict-averse yogi and Grateful Dead devotee who lives across the country and has had to leave her three-year-old for the first time.

Jacobs isn’t afraid to let drama and humor coexist, letting them seep into moments unexpectedly. There’s something undeniably absurd about writing an obituary for a loved one during such a difficult time as hospice that actually captures a life and a person, rather than sounding like a long list of biographical facts and positive qualities. Add to that the fact that Katie is also desperately trying to get a doctor to the apartment to witness a DNR order, and the women are torn between premature grief and wanting him to stay alive, but also to go quickly.

They’re all richly drawn and perfectly mysterious, even to themselves; Jacobs is too smart and knows too well how people are to give anyone a simple, straightforward explanation. Everyone makes assumptions about others — many of them wrong, or at least misguided. Coon, with her booming, theatrical voice, is particularly well-suited to playing this slightly terrifying, extremely judgmental perfectionist. Lyonne, so good at deflecting cool, can use that otherworldliness to strike a different tone: quiet heartbreak. And Olsen, playing a character, really shines in her nonverbal choices: a reaction, a moment alone that she doesn’t know is being watched. It won’t be surprising if one or all of them get recognition this awards season (alas, in a system uniquely ill-equipped to celebrate small ensembles with three leads).

There are some movies that die quietly when streaming (this one had a bit of a theatrical run), but His Three Daughters seems to be the perfect fit on Netflix, if only because it can reach a larger audience than it would have in theaters. The film is always engaging to watch, even if you have your phone nearby. Whether you watch the film alone or in a group may depend entirely on your own relationship with family members.

And what about the initial accusation that movies don’t portray death accurately? That’s probably still true. But films like His Three Daughters might help us all understand the inevitable a little better.

“His Three Daughters,” a Netflix release streaming Friday, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association for “language and drug use.” Running time: 101 minutes. Three and a half stars out of four.