There’s something quietly disarming about Father Mother Sister Brother – a film that unfolds not with grand declarations, but in glances, silences, and the emotional spaces left unspoken. Structured as a triptych spanning the Northeast US, Dublin, and Paris, it explores the fragile, often complicated bonds between adult children and their parents, as well as the relationships they carry with each other. Observational, gently comedic, and threaded with an undercurrent of melancholy, the film resists easy conclusions, instead inviting us to sit with its characters in moments that feel deeply lived-in and uncomfortably real.
In the final chapter, Sister Brother, Indya Moore delivers a performance of remarkable stillness and emotional precision as Skye – a young woman navigating grief, distance, and the quiet weight of what remains unsaid. It’s the kind of performance that lingers, built as much on what’s withheld as what’s expressed. When our Peter Gray spoke with Moore ahead of the film’s release their conversation moved effortlessly between craft and connection – touching on the power of silence, the emotional truths that exist beneath performance, and the real-world grief that shaped her time on set.
How are you today?
I’m okay. I’m grateful to be alive. How are you, Peter?
I’m really well. It’s a nice Thursday morning here in Australia. Woke up feeling good… especially knowing I’d get to chat with you.
Oh my God, did you wake up feeling good because you were anticipating our conversation?
I mean… I’m a fan, so yes.
Stop, that means a lot. Thank you for your time, your energy, your heart.
Absolutely. And I have to say, I went into Father, Mother, Sister, Brother knowing nothing, and it completely took me by surprise, in the best way.
I love hearing that. You can tell when someone really appreciates film, not just watches it. That makes me so happy.
I wanted to ask about Skye. She’s navigating grief, memory, and ambiguity all at once – how did you find her emotional anchor when so much is left unsaid?
For me, it was very internal. I’m a thoughtful person, and my face tends to reveal what I’m feeling, so I leaned into that. I built Skye from her inner world. But also… I was surrounded by grief. I was holding a lot of grief for the genocide in Gaza. I know it’s a controversial opinion to have. I was holding the loss of thousands of women, of mothers, of sisters. I was actively helping evacuate a family during filming, so there was this constant urgency, this awareness that not responding to a message could have real consequences. That kind of proximity to loss made it very easy to connect to Skye.
If I can feel grief for people I’ve never met, thousands of miles away, then I can absolutely believe the grief Skye feels for her own loss.
There’s such a quietness to the film that almost feels confrontational. What did that silence unlock for you as a performer?
It unlocked thoughtfulness. Silence isn’t empty – it’s actually where everything is happening. My mind was busiest in those moments. I gave myself permission to just feel, to be fully present in that stillness. Life continues around you, even when you’re trapped in your own head. And if I could experience the weight of grief, then I could tell Skye’s story truthfully through that emotional connection.
What I loved is how lived-in Skye and Billy feel, even with such a small window into their relationship. There’s something fragile and unresolved there – what do you think Skye wants from Billy versus what she’s actually able to receive?
I think they just… miss each other. That’s the tension. Unlike the other relationships in the film, there’s a genuine friendship between them. It’s not about unresolved resentment or some buried conflict – it’s about absence. They love each other, but they haven’t had the time or space to fully exist in that connection. And that’s why it feels softer, but also a little heartbreaking. You can see what could be there.
And working with Jim Jarmusch – his films really live in those in-between moments. How did his direction shape your performance?
Listen, the rhythm of my performance shook his direction, honey (laughs). I think he would roll his eyes at me if he heard me say that. I love Jim so much, and as someone who is a bit of a DOM, you know, I don’t mean to be a DOM, but I’m a soft DOM (laughs). The thing with Jim is he’s easy to submit to.
But I trusted him deeply. I don’t always feel that with directors, but with Jim, it felt safe. It felt collaborative. There was one moment where we disagreed – he didn’t want Skye to fully show her sadness because he was worried it would bring the audience down. But I felt like that was the truth of the moment. Grief isn’t about making things heavier – it’s about illuminating what’s real.
So I pushed for it. And when we did it that way… everyone felt it. Jim came up to me afterwards, emotional, hand on his heart. The whole set felt it. That’s empathy. It’s not about forcing emotion – it’s about being present enough that others connect to it.
That’s such a beautiful way of putting it. I could honestly talk to you all day, but I’ll let you go soon – I just have to say, as a gay man, I deeply appreciate your “soft dom” energy.
(Laughs) Wait – what does that make you?
Let’s just say… a bit of a tough sub.
(Laughs) I love that. I love that so much.
Thank you again for your time. The film is beautiful, your performance is incredible – and hearing you talk about it just deepens that even more.
Thank you, Peter. Thank you for your energy, your attention, your love. It really means a lot.
Father Mother Sister Brother is screening in Australian theatres from April 2nd, 2026.
