At first glance, actor Mariska Hargitay and her late mother, Jayne Mansfield, certainly share a resemblance. Both classic beauties with bright, expressive eyes and infectious smiles and dark hair, though Mansfield famously dyed her hair blonde for her public persona.

But for longtime fans of the actors or Hollywood historians, their differences stand out more. Despite having a genius-level IQ, speaking five languages and playing multiple musical instruments in addition to her acting, Mansfield is best remembered as a sex symbol who tragically died in a car accident at age 34.

Hargitay, equally intelligent and talented, has graced TV screens for over 25 years as Olivia Benson, the “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit” detective who worked her way up the ranks to NYPD Captain. A philanthropist and certified counselor, her Hollywood work has expanded to producing and directing.

That work behind the camera is exemplified in Hargitay’s new film, “My Mom Jayne,” a documentary that both examines Mansfield’s life in a traditional biography style while also following Hargitay as she talks with her family and friends in an attempt to understand her mom and learn to really love her for the first time.

“This movie is a labor of love and longing,” she told Variety in April. “It’s a search for the mother I never knew, an integration of a part of myself I’d never owned, and a reclaiming of my mother’s story and my own truth.”

Hargitay, who was only 3 years old when her mother died, says she has no memories of Mansfield — she remembers feeling her presence and a couple of moments that she admits may have been invented later, but nothing concrete. So while her older siblings and late father, bodybuilder Mickey Hargitay, have had plenty of stories to share over the past six decades and in the documentary, Hargitay only has what the rest of us have — the dumb blonde who was the most photographed woman in the world.

This is an emotional roller-coaster for basically the entire runtime, and Hargitay’s journey of rediscovering her mom and learning about their pasts together and apart can be heartbreaking. The opening scene shows Hargitay walking around the demoed remains of Mansfield’s Pink Palace on Sunset Boulevard while cutting to home movies of Mom and the kids walking around the pool and grounds. That separation of time and perception remains present for the rest of the film.

While Hargitay’s family was initially hesitant about her choice to make the documentary, they gave their blessing and agreed to appear in the film, and it makes the journey all the better for it. The juxtaposition of hearing Mansfield’s children talk about their mom and seeing the movies and TV show appearance she made in the 1950s and ’60s, and how she was pigeon-holed into one thing, exemplifies the tug-of-war Hargitay has been experiencing her whole life. Knowing there was so much love in Mansfield’s heart for everyone around her and so much promise for the career she deserved but was not given can be tough to swallow.

But then you see Mansfield’s legacy live on by seeing Hargitay do what her mom was never afforded the opportunity to do. When her brother Zoltán Hargitay recounts the fatal crash from his point of view, he shares that on the way to the hospital, he asked where his sister was. It turns out she was still in the car, wedged under a seat with a head injury, and she still needed to be rescued.

The biggest revelation from the film comes in its third act — a secret kept for 30 years that I won’t reveal here — that ultimately brings a sense of catharsis and closure to Hargitay’s journey. This is her feature directorial debut, and choosing such a personal, occasionally damaging and often emotional story to tell is a bold, admirable choice. Hargitay does herself and her mom proud.