The Third Wife: A Quiet Film That Says So Much

Published April 30, 2025
Set in 19th-century Vietnam, The Third Wife tells the story of May, a 13-year-old girl who becomes the third wife of a wealthy landowner. It’s a quiet, visually stunning film that tackles some incredibly heavy themes—child marriage, gender inequality, and the pressure placed on women to produce sons. But instead of shouting its message, the film lets its stillness do the talking.
The film made waves internationally, winning awards and receiving praise for its direction and storytelling. But back home in Vietnam, it caused a stir—mainly because the lead actress, Nguyễn Phương Trà My, was just 13 years old at the time of filming.

Some viewers felt the film crossed a line, especially with its more intimate scenes. The director, Ash Mayfair, stood by the film, saying everything was shot respectfully and within legal bounds. She also emphasized that the goal wasn’t shock value—it was to tell a story that reflected real, often overlooked parts of Vietnamese history.
And that’s exactly what the film does. It doesn’t aim to dramatize or condemn the culture it portrays. Instead, it explains—this was the norm for many women in the past. Girls were married off young, often right after their first period, and their worth was tied to whether they could have sons. It’s an uncomfortable truth, but one that deserves space in film and conversation.
What makes The Third Wife stand out is how subtle it is. There’s no shouting, no dramatic monologues, no flashy rebellion. The pain is internal. The characters rarely say what they’re feeling—but it’s all there in the way they move, pause, and look at each other. That emotional restraint feels authentic to traditional Vietnamese society, where people, especially women, were taught to keep their feelings tucked away.
Visually, the film is just as understated. The color palette is soft and earthy, the pacing is slow, and every frame feels like a painting. It’s quiet, but not boring. It invites the audience to really watch—because the loudest parts of this story are the ones that go unspoken.






There are, of course, a couple of scenes that drew the most criticism—moments involving the young character in intimate contexts, one with a man and another with a woman. But even these were handled carefully. Nothing explicit is shown, and the focus stays on the emotional weight rather than the act itself. Yes, they’re uncomfortable—but that discomfort is part of the point. The film forces viewers to reckon with how normalized these situations once were—and, in some places, still are.
One thing that might feel a little off for some viewers is the childbirth scene. It’s portrayed so quietly that it might feel too understated, considering the intensity of labor. But again, this could’ve been a stylistic choice to stay consistent with the rest of the film’s tone.
The Third Wife isn’t fast-paced or full of twists. It’s not trying to entertain in a conventional way. Instead, it gives a voice to those who were never really allowed to speak. It tells a hard story gently—and that’s what makes it powerful.
If you’re in the mood for something slow, thoughtful, and beautifully made, this film is worth your time.