Above all else, Phylliss Nagy’s “Call Jane” is a testament to the bulletproof resilience of women in the face of adversity. Written by Hayley Schore and Roshan Sethi, the Elizabeth Banks-starrer demonstrates the power of women even — especially — when mired in the most horrific circumstances, even when spouses, friends, family members, entire institutions are working against them. In 120 forceful minutes of anger, frustration, laughter, and inspiration, “Call Jane” reminds us, perhaps when we need it most, the formidable might of women when we unite to retaliate against our oppressors.
Banks (“Charlie’s Angels”) dazzles as a quick-witted Joy Griffin, an expectant housewife reveling in the cozy trappings of ‘68 Chicago suburbia: she enjoys idle afternoon chats with the next-door neighbor Lana (Kate Mara); attends lavish networking events with her litigator husband (Chris Messina); dotes on her teen daughter Charlotte (Grace Edwards) when she announces she’s got her first period.
But Joy’s insulated suburban life is upended when she suddenly collapses on her kitchen floor, amid dancing to The Velvet Underground’s “Sister Ray” with Charlotte. The doctor tells the Griffins that Joy has congenital heart failure – and the only viable treatment is to terminate her pregnancy.
To the wife and husband, the choice is clear: Joy’s life takes precedence over all else. The executive board of the hospital disagrees, and votes against Joy receiving the emergency abortion.
“A healthy baby, that’s it? No regard for her mother?” Joy asks the all-male board, in a scene that serves as a microcosm of the dehumanizing legislative procedures that govern the bodies of folks who can get pregnant: a room full of men debating the fate of a woman as if she isn’t even there.
That said, “Call Jane,” which premiered at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, is not a film that wallows in the despair of defeat, or even abortion-induced trauma. “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,” Nagy has emphasized. “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.”
True enough, we see Joy – hardly the snickerdoodle-baking, PTA meet-attending housewife she is initially portrayed as – take matters into her own hands. In her hour of need, she chances upon a mysterious Jane hotline, which promises to discreetly provide the procedure that will save her life.
Jane, as it turns out, is not a person at all but is a secret network of women volunteers who organize and facilitate illicit abortions. “We’re all Jane,” reveals group founder Virginia (Sigourney Weaver), a stouthearted activist whose leadership is as magnetic as it is intimidating.
Virginia’s well-oiled machine, however, is far from perfect — the services Jane offers come at a hefty cost. As Gwen (Wunmi Mosaku), the only Black member of Jane, aptly points out, the price of the procedure ($600, which equates to about $5,117 today) precludes many BIPOC and economically disadvantaged women from receiving the treatment. Oftentimes, these are folks who need the procedure the most. “Economics always seems to mean that Black women get screwed,” she explains.
Throughout the film, we witness Joy’s metamorphosis from a woman curious about – but ultimately passive towards – social justice movements to a fearless crusader on the frontline of the struggle for abortion access, insisting that all women should get the procedure for free. At one point, Joy, who exhibits an aptitude for medicine, is told she has a knack for it and “could’ve been a nurse.” “Could’ve been a doctor,” Joy retorts.
Nagy told us that she wants the film to rupture misconceptions and to alter viewers’ perspectives on women’s reproductive health. “My hope is that ‘Call Jane’ surprises people, that it in some way confounds preconceived ideas audiences might have about what a narrative that deals with women’s rights, with choice, and particularly with abortion, can be. To make one person’s thinking shift in even a tiny way would delight me,” she emphasized.
In many ways, “Call Jane” doesn’t feel like a journey back in time at all. The film feels uncannily, viscerally familiar in the wake of the Supreme Court overturning Roe v. Wade — a decision that takes us back to “Call Jane’s” historical setting of pre-Roe America. In 1968, women resorted to live-threatening procedures because safe abortions were illegal. In 2022, women will likewise have to seek live-threatening procedures because safe abortions have become, yet again, illegal. As Amnesty International best puts it, “Criminalizing abortion does not stop abortions, it just makes abortion less safe.” Complications due to unsafe abortions account for about 13% of maternal deaths worldwide per year – that is, 47,000 preventable deaths.
What would have happened to Joy if she hadn’t found Jane? What will happen to pregant folks living in any of the 13 states where abortion is now fully banned? Viewers will depart “Call Jane,” which ends with the landmark legalization of abortion, with a paradoxical cocktail of triumph and sorrow as they step out of 1973 back to our present reality, wondering how we can restore our right to bodily autonomy that we once had.
“Call Jane” is now in theaters.
