Wilson Webb/Sundance Institute
MOVIE REVIEW
Call Jane (2022)
Years ago, this critic attended a talk by Euzhan Palcy, director of “A Dry White Season,” the 1989 antiapartheid box-office bomb that was the first major Hollywood production directed by a Black woman. She told a roomful of righteous undergraduates that she centered Donald Sutherland’s character because his was the one with the story arc; all the Black characters already knew of the atrocities keeping the apartheid regime in power and that racism is bad. She calmly explained that you have to start from the beginning every time, because there will always be people who simply don’t think they are affected by something like racism, and the constraints of a movie’s running time mean it’s more interesting to focus on the people who need to change. That same logic went into the choices that make up “Call Jane,” a major Hollywood production about why abortion is good. Should we need to start from the beginning on this subject? Of course we do. And when it’s done this well, it speaks for itself.
It's 1968 in Chicago. Joy (Elizabeth Banks) is a happily married lawyer’s wife with a teenage daughter; they live a comfortable life and the upheavals of the time are distant to them (and accurately reflected in the period design). A surprise pregnancy is greeted with happiness, but it’s short-lived; to her and her husband Will’s (Chris Messina, playing expertly to type) horror, Joy has a severe and previously undiagnosed heart problem. Her body will not survive the strain of this pregnancy, but abortions are illegal and therefore only medically sanctioned in extreme cases. Joy and Will plead her case to the hospital’s all-male board of directors, so confident it will go their way Joy has baked a plate of cookies, but the men rapidly refuse, smirking as they do. But Joy values her life, and will not give it up without a fight. A more sympathetic but still patronizing doctor refers her to a back-alley situation, but it’s filthy and unpleasant, and Joy flees. A receptionist cheerfully suggests Joy throw herself down a flight of stairs, which isn’t particularly helpful either. But she’s extremely lucky – at a bus stop she sees a sign on the side of a mailbox. Pregnant? Upset? Call Jane.
It turns out Jane is a collective of almost exclusively white women, headed by the indefatigable Virginia (Sigourney Weaver), who are clandestinely arranging abortions in defiance of the law. Joy puts herself entirely into their hands – and the great surprise of the movie is the abortion, performed by the thoughtful and attentive Dean (Cory Michael Smith), is shown in full from Joy’s perspective. It’s tactfully shot by Greta Zozula and edited by Peter McNulty in a matter-of-fact style the underscores the movie’s whole point; this is a basic medical procedure like any other. Afterwards Joy is brought to a safe house and fed a plate of spaghetti, as volunteers chat while quietly noting her expensive clothes. A few days later Virginia calls to check on her, then remarks that a woman in her part of town needs a ride to the service immediately, and they know Joy has a car. Joy feels obligated to return the favor, so agrees as a one-off. But the need for Jane’s services is constant, and almost despite herself, Joy becomes more and more involved.
Director Phyllis Nagy knows that the issues of 1968 are still the same today, most clearly in the potent scene where the volunteers (one a nun, one heavily pregnant) argue which of that day’s cases need a free abortion the most: Is it the 11-year-old? The rape victim? The mother of eight? Or the student about to finish her dissertation? The baseline that nobody who doesn’t want to be pregnant should have to be is never questioned for a second, even as Joy keeps the details of her new work from Will and her best friend Lana (Kate Mara). This keeps moralizing to a minimum, and focuses more on Joy’s change from a bored housewife into a dedicated activist. There’s a surprising amount of humor involved in the work, and Joy (whose name is not an accident) is thrilled her time has a focus and herself a purpose. The plot follows real events closely – as the documentary “The Janes,” which also had its world premiere at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, makes clear – and the dramatic license seems held to a minimum.
Ms. Banks is a calm and good-hearted presence, whose Joy has a silent core of steel, meaning she can both roll her eyes at her husband’s inability to switch on the oven and not be intimidated by the imposing Virginia. Ms. Weaver brings the entire gravitas of her career to the part of a committed leftist, thrilled to be doing tangible work for a women’s cause since “the rads are bigger pigs than the pigs.” It can’t go well forever, of course – by the end of Roshan Sethi and Hayley Schore’s script the pacing has dragged badly and a large portion of the emotional power has been lost. But as with “A Dry White Season,” “Call Jane” is not a polemic. It’s simply an assertion of the belief that women should control their own fertility, and choose when and how they become mothers.
Something that simple – as simple as racism is bad – should not be political, but of course that’s not the world. It’s deeply frustrating that many early reviews seem to be punishing the movie for not being radical enough, the same reaction the similarly pointed period piece “Suffragette” (voting is good; women having the legal right to their own children is good) also received. How disappointing that rads being bigger pigs than the pigs is another problem that hasn’t gone away. Until the world improves works of art like this remain incredibly important. Holding some truths to be self-evident in the face of opposition is more than enough. This critic remains grateful for what Ms. Palcy taught.
Comments