Written by Gabby Miranda
When is it appropriate for luck to be equated to a pregnancy, and when is it not? The film Call Jane offers its answer to this question with authenticity, humor, and most importantly perspective. Although the film takes place nearly half a century ago, the themes of bodily autonomy amid suppressive legislation are more relevant than ever in a healthcare system that prioritizes white cisgender male perspectives. Call Jane follows a woman, Joy, whose life seems to resemble the utopian suburban lifestyle of the 1960s: married happily (enough) with a daughter. Outside of Joy’s narrative, the film feels as if it has simply emerged from the era being described, entirely evocative of the period from even the very first frame. With examples such as meticulously pinned beehive hair paired with copious amounts of hairspray, as well as more subtle allusions to the time such as phrases like “the cops are as young as the yippies”, the immersive details in Call Jane allow the audience to recognize the connotations of the time, setting the stage for what can be anticipated as a story of endurance and barriers.
Despite Joy’s seemingly perfect life, her contentment dissipates upon finding she’s pregnant. With severely limited options, primarily due to the hospital’s heavily restricted policy on abortion, Joy and her husband first, seek help from the hospital board to appeal for the pregnancy to be terminated. Joy’s request is met with utter dismissal from a board made up entirely of men who even go to the extent of acting as if she is not present in the room and blatantly implying that the life of a fetus has more value than a mother’s. The rejection is unsurprising but heartbreaking as we see our protagonist’s distress culminate into a series of stress-inducing attempts at abortion.
Following Joy’s attempts at self-managed abortion, she miraculously stumbles across an obscure flier advertising “pregnancy guidance” paired with an anonymous number where she could “Call JANE”. Upon Joy’s first attempt at contacting the mysterious group, she abruptly hangs up the phone - a response that is met with understanding by the other woman on the line, who later explain that “everyone hangs up their first time.” The stigma around abortion ripples like a current up to this point, with this moment being the first in which apprehension isn’t only acknowledged, it’s validated. It’s the first moment we as an audience can sort of exhale a breath of relief knowing her efforts to manage her abortion have allowed her peace. Joy promptly receives a successful abortion, and it feels as though this should be the happy ending. That is until you look down at the bottom of the screen and see there is still well over an hour left in the film’s duration.
The second act of the film follows Joy’s eventual return to and involvement in the group of “JANES.” We discover that the group is an underground network led by women who facilitate illegal abortions, a huge step toward what would eventually inspire the evolution of health care accessibility movements. The most enduring aspect of the film for me personally was seeing the repeated embrace of femininity in every scene: Joy’s rejoicing upon learning about her daughter’s first period, Joy directly challenging her husband’s assertions that women should inherently enjoy “homemaking,” and a moment of lightness in the film, where the JANES explain the anatomy of a vagina to a teenage girl. This moment is impactful because it teaches anatomy through a lens that acknowledges pleasure as much as it does reproduction. Each of these moments serves as a complete diversion of the ideals often associated with the 1960s revealing that ideas of gender politics that we still advocate for today didn't simply appear overnight.
Another enduring aspect of the film was its conversation about race and abortion access. At this moment, the JANES engage in discourse whether women of color seeking abortions are more deserving to access to the free procedure. One character exclaims, “It’s interesting how economics always seems to mean that black women get screwed.” This of course calls back to the racist medical treatment of black women throughout history, as well as racial tensions of a period seeped in segregation and a potent Civil Rights Movement. I found this discussion particularly impactful given my experience in Teen Council, a program run and funded by Planned Parenthood. Given Planned Parenthood founder Margaret Sanger's historic association with the eugenics movement, even the most vocal sexual health organization cannot be seen as a reproductive justice organization, a movement that gained its origins from the work of Black women and other women of color who strove to scrutinize the legal repercussions placed on marginalized communities when accessing healthcare. So even if we as an organization lead immense efforts to establish ourselves as allies in the fight for reproductive justice, why do we refuse to acknowledge our harmful history even if it's largely against what we stand for now? The best answer I can give is that history shouldn’t erase itself, and when it does, that is when it becomes repeated.
The film Call Jane serves as a timely reminder that we must denounce the ideas that suppress us, particularly in a time of disarray and betrayal in our government’s involvement in our healthcare system. It can easily feel exhaustive to know that obstacles will present themselves to a systemic degree, but that isn’t to say we should simply accept that outcome. After a long day of reading headlines about restrictive abortion legislation that make me want to scream, yell, cry, or even do all of the above, I often fear we have reverted to a system that our allies have fought tooth and nail to escape from. But with films like Call Jane that feel so intentional in their purpose, even if just for a moment, it feels wrong to doubt that change will come when it is due. Although I’m watching the movie on my laptop in a dimly-lit corner of my room, I can’t help but think about the awareness that something as massive as the silver screen can bring, as I allow myself to feel more optimistic about what’s to come after the credits roll.
