'Daughters' review: Emotional documentary offers an honest look at how incarceration affects families

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If you were lucky enough to have a good dad growing up, imagine if they were suddenly taken away for reasons you don't quite understand. Would you wonder why he was no longer around to sing you songs or talk with you? Would you be angry at his absence? That's the starting point for Angela Patton and Natalie Rae's moving documentary Daughters, which premiered at Sundance earlier this year and is now available to stream on Netflix.

The movie follows four girls — Aubrey, who excitedly recites her multiplication tables; Santana, who helps her mom take care of her younger siblings; Ja'Ana, who struggles to remember what her father looked like before he went to prison; Raziah, who wishes she could tell her dad about her day — and their incarcerated fathers as they prepare for the rare chance to hold and hug one another during a father-daughter dance.

As the documentary explains, the availability of in-person visits have sharply declined in prisons across the country, meaning years could pass between opportunities for children to hold their parent's hand or sit in their lap. The result that this has on the daughters in the film is profound. As the filmmakers check back in a year and then three years after the dance, missing out on time spent with a parent due to incarceration has lasting consequences on the girls' behavior and their well-being. It's heartbreaking to see the pieces of childhood lost as collateral damage.

What is Daughters about?

Credit: Netflix

The first voice in Daughters belongs to Patton, founder of the Girls for a Change nonprofit, which aims to empower young Black girls. Their Date with Dad event, which reunites daughters with their incarcerated fathers for one day, is a signature program of the organization. “They already know what they need… The wisdom lives inside of them,” Patton says of the girls. She explains that the idea for the event came from girls she worked with; it was the suggestion of bringing a dance to their dads that led to the program's creation in Richmond, VA, before expanding to Washington, D.C.

In preparation for the big event, the fathers enroll in a 10-week coaching class that will try to prepare them through the emotions of that day, examine their own family history, and rededicate themselves to being there for their daughters. The men's conversations are just as emotionally wrenching as the interviews with their daughters, revealing generations of pain and their intentions to do better for their kids. But the powerhouse moments really belong to Aubrey, Santana, Ja'Ana, and Raziah, who are unafraid to be honest about their hurt and confusion over their situation. Reuniting with their fathers is such a joyful but bittersweet moment; the men are in various stages of their sentences, and it may be years or even decades before they will have the chance to freely hug their daughters once again.

Daughters celebrates and centers Black girlhood. 

Credit: Netflix

Between the tearful moments (and there are a lot of them), the filmmakers sprinkle beautiful interstitial scenes of girls playing with each other, riding their bikes, running their fingers through blades of grass or splashing in a river. There are also plenty of poignant close-ups of a smaller hand grasping onto their parent's hand, showing that even as they grow older, they still rely on that sense of touch and the security, warmth, and love that comes with it. These scenes are typically used as background visuals behind a voice-over or contemplative beats by singer and cellist Kelsey Lu, but they beautifully illustrate what's at stake here, and what organizers, communities, and families are fighting for — offering these girls an ongoing connection with their fathers and the chance to enjoy moments of a carefree childhood as much as possible.

Cinematographer Michael Cambio Fernandez plays with different formats, using both digital and film to give Daughters the feeling of a family album. Grainy handheld footage, artistic black-and-white scenes, and starkly somber interview footage all meld together to give viewers a sense of every side of the story — including that of the hesitant mothers. We see the excitement of the girls' faces as they get ready for their big dance, the glee on the men's faces as they help each other tie their ties and get dressed up for their daughters. For a fleeting moment, there is hope and joy in everyone's faces, happy cries of “Daddy!” and “I love my dad!” fill the room.

Daughters is easily one of the best documentaries you'll see all year. It's enlightening, it's moving, and it's stunning to watch. Patton and Rae focus on the experience of four little girls to illustrate such a specific loss that's often overlooked in conversations about the criminal justice system. The documentary leaves you with more to think about, some tears to dry, and perhaps the feeling you should call your dad to tell him you love him.

How to watch: Daughters is now streaming on Netflix.