Neasa Hardiman is a BAFTA-winning director and writer whose work spans film and television drama. Her short films have won numerous international prizes. Her recent credits include BBC’s acclaimed “Happy Valley” and Netflix’s Peabody-winning feminist noir “Jessica Jones.” “Sea Fever” marks her feature debut.

“Sea Fever” hits On Demand and Digital April 10.

W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.

NH: “Sea Fever” is a slow-burn eco-thriller with a sci-fi element. Siobhán’s a marine biology student who prefers being alone in her lab. To complete her PhD, she has to endure a week of research on a ragged fishing trawler, where she’s miserably at odds with the close-knit crew. But out in the deep Atlantic, an unfathomable life form ensnares the boat. When members of the crew succumb to a strange infection, Siobhán has to overcome her alienation and anxiety to win the crew’s trust, if she’s to protect herself, the crew, and the rest of the world.

W&H: What drew you to this story?

NH: I wanted to tell a cinematic, compelling story that explores real cultural concerns through a dream metaphor. The film is about taking responsibility — for ourselves, for each other, and for our world. I wanted to explore the apparent increasing cultural tension between the scientific method and magical thinking in this respect.

In the West, we seem to have developed a strange cultural resistance to scientific thinking, often expressed in cinema by the figure of the cold-hearted scientist who lacks human feeling or any sense of responsibility. I wanted to reframe that cinematic trope, investigating the possible roots of that clichéd figure in cognitive difference, and then position that figure as the most empathetic, ethical person in the story.

In the same way, I wanted to reframe that figure as a female scientist whose gender is not the focus of the narrative. In doing that, I wanted to reference the clichéd Final Girl scenario, in order to narratively undermine that highly-gendered trope by pivoting into a less gendered, more mythologically heroic narrative arc.

The central idea, then, was to create a female scientist who, by her actions in the story, transforms into a quasi-mythological hero.

W&H: What do you want people to think about after they watch the film?

NH: The film feels unsettlingly timely right now because it develops into a struggle about quarantining versus getting back to your loved ones. Essentially it asks the question about how we take responsibility for ourselves, each other, and the broader community when we’re threatened.

That question relates directly to conflicts between scientific and magical thinking, that is, between the path of painful, necessary action and the path of wishing, praying, and hoping that a problem will just go away. When I was writing it, the story was a metaphor for climate crisis, but that central theme certainly resonates with our current scary circumstances.

The film throws up a related question in how good people exacerbate long-term crises, like extinction, by trying to stave off short-term emergencies, like economic ruin. That also feels unfortunately timely right now. I wish it weren’t.

W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?

NH: I was very ambitious in terms of the look and location of the film. The biggest challenge was trying to create the scale and standard I wanted at the budget level. We had so little time to shoot, so few resources to create the underwater sequences, and so limited a time in digital post.

I was incredibly lucky to have brilliant collaborators with whom to problem-solve.

W&H: How did you get your film funded? Share some insights into how you got the film made. 

NH: The film is a complex five-way co-production between public funders in Ireland, Sweden, Scotland, and Belgium, as well as with a U.S. sales agent. The conditions of those public funds were tricky, in that I had to hire a Head of Department from each of the contributing countries. It took a while to find the best people for each role, while also fulfilling our funding criteria. Luckily I found a brilliant Irish DoP, a gifted Swedish CG artist, a great Scottish AD, and a talented Belgian sound team.

W&H: What inspired you to become a filmmaker?

NH: I’ve always had a wide field of interest, including writing, visual art, languages, and physics. I took a primary degree in visual art, on the basis that it gave me the chance to explore creatively.

I won a scholarship to study art film in Berlin, and that ignited my passion for cinema. I took a PhD in film theory to deepen my understanding. Film’s a creative form that demands you engage deeply with creative discipline in story, thematic resonance, performance, aesthetics, and music, allowing you to collaborate with brilliant creative people in each of those fields. What could be more exciting?

W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?

NH: The best advice I received was from Slawek Idziak, the brilliant Polish cinematographer. He said making films is like having a baby. You feel sure you’re having a boy, then it turns out to be a girl.

The worst advice I received was from an agent earlier in my career. He kindly offered to represent me, but only as a director of children’s and rom-com movies. Those are the only fields open to female directors, he cautioned. That was about nine years ago.

W&H: What advice do you have for other female directors?

NH: Don’t ask for permission. Be direct. Be demanding. Name the micro-aggressions and the misogyny when you see them.

W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why.

NH: My current favorite is Céline Sciamma’s gorgeous “Portrait of a Lady on Fire.” It’s a film that imbues an emotive story with sharp political subtext expressed through pitch-perfect cinematography, design, and score. She’s a great filmmaker, and this is her best film yet.

W&H: How are you adjusting to life during the COVID-19 pandemic? Are you keeping creative, and if so, how?

NH: I was in the middle of directing a new Netflix international mystery thriller in Tel Aviv when things shut down. I’m lucky I was able to get home to Dublin. I’m now cutting the material we have, working long-distance with my editor in LA.

I have a few new projects simmering, but I think we need to be careful not to put ourselves under too much pressure to produce “King Lear” right now. Now is the time to read great novels, watch great films, listen to great music, and build up our creative resources. We need to nourish ourselves and take care of each other while this storm rages.