Phyllis Nagy is a director, screenwriter and playwright. Born in New York in 1962, she began her career at the Royal Court in London, where she was writer in residence in the 1990s, with plays such as Butterfly Kiss. She moved back to Los Angeles a decade ago. In 2006, she was nominated for an Emmy for writing and directing Mrs Harris, her screen debut. In 2016 she was nominated for an Oscar for her screenplay for Carol, based on a novel by Patricia Highsmith, who she knew. Now she is directing Call Jane, her feature debut starring Elizabeth Banks, based on the true story of the “Janes”, a group of suburban women who organised a network to provide safe, affordable abortions in the States in the late 1960s, when abortion was illegal.
How did you get involved in Call Jane?
When I was sent the script, I am embarrassed to say I had never heard of the Janes. It got me thinking about how women and minorities don’t learn anything about our heroes. Those are lessons that are not taught.
How is it different from other films dealing with abortion?
I realise that there is a genre of abortion films, often inspired by true stories, which focus on the trauma of abortion. What seemed important here was to treat abortion as what it is – a normal medical procedure that is part of a woman’s healthcare in some cases. Artists and the media often deal with the horror stories, the exceptions rather than the rule. This film is not interested in repeating those tropes.
Were you conscious that Roe v Wade, which conferred the right to abortion, was under threat when you first began the movie?
Once Trump was elected and changed the composition of the supreme court, [the overrule] was coming. What I think could not be anticipated was the speed with which they decapitated it.
How did you feel when you heard the news?
To know it’s coming and to have it happen are two entirely different things. I thought, well, are they going to come for everything else now? Are they going to go after voting rights, gay marriage, all these things people take for granted now? I was proud of the dissenting opinions, that’s what gave me hope.
Why did you preview the film for people you knew voted Republican?
I wanted to avoid the film having a sense of preaching to the converted, or a sort of snotty quality. Having [those] people watch it and get what their reactions were confirmed that hunch for me. Basically, they felt it didn’t tell them they were wrong. Did it change their minds? As if. But perhaps it shifted them. The film allowed them to see some things about the issue in a different light. I think that’s the best you can hope for.
I was surprised by how funny the film was – and how people didn’t always behave in the way you expected…
Then it did its job. I do not think serious and enjoyable are mutually exclusive. We have too many pompous politicians [and] probably artists who make the mistake of equating humour with a lack of seriousness.
I first knew you as a playwright. Why have you moved into films?
They are two very distinct forms, [something] that people don’t credit enough. There is a lot of playwriting on film, which is not good, and a lot of screenwriting on stage, which is equally not good. I have always wanted to do film, but not to the exclusion of theatre. It’s just once you get into film production you never have the time. Also, I go to see theatre and I feel old, because there are lots of video screens, and to me it isn’t theatrical. There’s a wish for constant deflection, entertainment. What happened to the idea of a Beckett play being theatrical? I’m not sure I would be successful as a playwright any more.
What was your first introduction to film?
As a kid in New York, the only culture I had was movies. I would go to the repertory cinema on the corner, and I would watch three films in an afternoon, anything from Midnight Cowboy to Wings, not at all age appropriate. I knew this was something I wanted to do, but I also wanted to wait for the right moment. I’ve never been a very ambitious person. It’s probably either supremely arrogant of me to have no ambition, or it’s the thing that keeps you sane. I tell young writers that ambition will kill you – you have to love the actual act of writing. But it is such a different time. Ambition is one of the things you are taught to have, even if it’s just as a TikTok star or a social media influencer.
You are a naturalised UK citizen and lived here for 20 years before moving to Los Angeles. What do you think of the current state of UK politics?
Jesus God almighty! Has a budget ever been walked back like this?
How does it compare with the US?
I guess it’s slightly less scary here [in the UK]. Trump is being revealed now as an absolute fascist. I tend to be quite pessimistic about these things, having grown up in a very conservative, poor family in New York. There’s always that false notion that conservatives are more interested in helping you keep your money than others, despite all evidence to the contrary.
Has culture improved in its depiction of lesbian relationships since you wrote Carol in 2015?
Well, let’s see. What have we had since then? We’ve had a few period pieces – it’s always the period pieces – and some of those have been quite wonderful. I liked Céline Sciamma’s film [Portrait of a Lady on Fire], but broadly I probably do think that lesbians are underrepresented.
You put a picture of Richard Madden on Twitter recently. Is he your choice for the next James Bond?
Yes, because he seems to perfectly encapsulate Bond. I miss the Bond from the novels, who was rather a shit. I don’t need to know his backstory, his trauma, his pain, I want him to save the world.
How much did meeting Patricia Highsmith change things for you?
She was one of the first real writers that I met and knowing her over the course of almost a decade before she died changed my thinking about how a female writer could live life. I thought, yes, you can live alone, yes, you can produce vital, brilliant work when you are over 40, which I think a lot of young people don’t think. There’s time.
Call Jane will be released in cinemas in the US from 28 October, and in the UK from 4 November
