Women Talking’s Sarah Polley on Her Oscar Nod—And All the Female-Directed Films That Were Snubbed

There’s a moment in my interview with Sarah Polley when the writer-director—who began her career as a child actor more than three decades ago, before helming critically acclaimed dramas like Away from Her and Take This Waltz—begins to well up. We’re on the subject of this year’s Oscar nominations: Her latest film, the harrowing and profoundly moving Women Talking, is up for best adapted screenplay (for Polley herself) and best picture (for her producers, Dede Gardner, Frances McDormand, and Jeremy Kleiner). It also happens to be the only film by a woman director to have made the 10-strong best-picture line-up. But, these are not tears of joy from Polley—instead, she says, she’s disheartened by all the female-directed films that were snubbed, including Till, The Woman King, and Saint Omer. 

That’s Polley in a nutshell—an empath who’s made a deeply empathetic film: a big-screen adaptation of Miriam Toews’s compelling novel of the same name about a group of women in a religious colony who discover that they’ve secretly been drugged and raped by the men in their community over a number of years. Among them is the gentle Ona (Rooney Mara); the fierce Salome (Claire Foy); the hesitant Mariche (Jessie Buckley); the patient Agata (Judith Ivey); and the measured Greta (Sheila McCarthy). As they argue over their options—to forgive and do nothing, to stay and fight, or to leave—we learn about their lives, what they’ve endured, and their visions for the future. For a film that is, at times, truly horrifying, it is also resolutely hopeful—a tale of solidarity and unimaginable resilience.

We spoke to Polley about how she rewrote the rules of how a film set operates, her internal conflict about working with child actors, and how much has really changed for women filmmakers in the five years since #MeToo. 

Vogue: I read that Women Talking was recommended to you at a book club meeting. What did you think the first time you read it, and what specifically made you want to adapt it? 

Sarah Polley: I’ve always been a fan of Miriam Toews’s writing, and reading Women Talking, I was just so exhilarated by this idea of people who disagreed on such fundamental things coming together and having to acknowledge and embrace each other’s experiences and figure out a way forward together. They have to reach a consensus, and that happens less and less in the world we live in. It gave me a tremendous sense of optimism. The book also asked such rich and beautiful questions about faith, forgiveness, and societal injustice versus individual culpability. There were so many things about it that I found really captivating. 

I also heard that there was a sort of synchronicity in Frances McDormand reaching out to her manager about you just as you were reaching out about her. What were your early discussions with her like? 

So, initially, I just wanted to write the film because that’s what I’ve been doing for the last 10 years, since I had kids. I have three little kids now, so the idea of being on set for 17-hour days felt incompatible with being able to be present with them. I said that I’d love to direct it too, but that didn’t seem viable to me, and I sort of floated the idea of changing the regular hours of a film set to accommodate people being able to see their families or loved ones. Fran said, “Men have written the rules of the film industry, but this is Women Talking. Let’s rewrite the rules.” The producers made a commitment really early on for us to have civilized hours and be able to get home, to see our kids and whoever else we were taking care of. It made a huge difference and I’m not sure I would have been able to come back to making films if that hadn’t been the case. 

Apart from shorter hours, how else did they rewrite the rules? 

Another thing that was important to me was to have a therapist on set for the more difficult scenes, so that there was a container for some of the things that could come up, not just for the cast, but for the crew, too, some of whom had come from similar backgrounds to the characters in this story. We also had a rule on set that if people needed a break, they just took a break and we waited. There was no emergency room-style time pressure on it. That was important because we were asking our cast to act out these incredibly intense scenes which could bring up so many things, and they needed to be able to take risks and know they were doing that in a safe environment.

And did you get a chance to speak to Miriam Toews, too? 

I did. I asked her, “What’s the most important thing for you in this adaptation?” She said, “The laughter.” That was a great North Star for me to have. Any time we felt the pressure building up, we found a way to release it. Every time we could find a comic moment, we did. I think it would’ve been too much if we didn’t give the audience permission to laugh at points. And I didn’t find it difficult [to move between that lightness and the more emotional scenes] because, throughout my life, I’ve had to find humor in tragedy. I think that’s what we do naturally as a species—we laugh our way through difficulty, and that’s how we survive it.

Talk me through the casting process. Did you have actors whom you considered for multiple roles?

It was like creating a theatre company and then assigning roles. Almost every actor in this film could have played a different role. With Claire, I’d originally met with her to talk about Ona—and her work to date shows you that she could’ve played her—but I was so excited by how sharp she was and by the fact that she just has no bullshit about her whatsoever. She was really excited by Salome because the role would allow her to show a side of herself that she hadn’t necessarily shown before in a character.

With Rooney, I’d imagined her as either Mariche or Salome, but then we started talking about Ona. I read hundreds of people for that part and it’s difficult because you have to believe what she says, or she seems kind of ridiculous. Rooney will hate this, but I think she has this side of her that’s incredibly enlightened. I was wondering if I should rewrite Ona, but when Rooney read her lines, it worked. And with Jessie, I’d considered her for Ona, but she loved the challenge of trying to understand Mariche. Some people wouldn’t touch that part because she has to be unlikeable for so much of the film before you really unpack her story—but not Jessie.

And once you got onto set, what scenes proved the most difficult? And how was the on-set therapist able to help in those moments?

There’s a scene in the film, which is not in the book, in which Mariche’s mother apologizes to her for her complicity in her abuse. It’s a moment of transformation for Mariche and in order for that character to come on board, we needed something like that. We shot Jessie’s side first and, in her performance, there was this huge internal crumbling and rebuilding. That deeply impacted one of the crew members who’d grown up in a community like this, in which there’d been abuse and his parents had never apologized or taken responsibility. He said it made him think about how everything he’d been taught to accept wasn’t okay, and he was really emotional. Then, when we were shooting Sheila [McCarthy, who played Mariche’s mother Greta], I asked him, “Would this be enough for you?” He said, “No, not enough for me to transform the way Jessie just did.”

So, we talked about what he’d need to hear. I said to Sheila, “First of all, don’t cry, because this has to be about her. And if, at the end, you feel like you’re breaking, say the words: ‘I’m sorry.’” We did a take and she said sorry three times, and it felt like that’s what she needed to do in that moment. It ended up being this really interesting collaboration between me, the crew person, and the actors. Harriet Lerner wrote this amazing book called Why Won’t You Apologize? and it really inspired me—I knew this movie had to hinge on an apology, on someone getting to hear the words they need to hear to move on. I felt so lucky to have that experience on set—to have this crew person who was so generous with his experience, and actors who were so receptive.

You also worked with some great child actors. Having had difficult experiences as a child actor yourself, how did you approach that?  

I tried many times to write this film without children in it, but I realized that in order to really understand what these women are fighting for and who they need to protect, we needed to see them. We had a lot of rules in place and I made a speech to the kids and their parents every day. I said, “If you aren’t happy, if something’s wrong, or even if you’re just a little bit bored, you can go home. Just let your parents know. They’ll always be in eyesight.” And in terms of structuring the way scenes were shot, I just let them play and we followed them. Having said all that, I’m still uncomfortable with the idea of kids being on set, so what I learned is that even if you do everything right, it still doesn’t feel good.

The response to the film has been effusive—congratulations on your Oscar nomination. I saw that you were at the doctor’s when it was announced. Did you have any expectations at all?

Zero. It was amazing and I did go into shock, but, to be honest with you, I felt conflicted about it. When the best-picture nominees came up on the screen and I saw Triangle of Sadness, I knew there was one more slot left and I thought that’d go to The Woman King. I was so happy for Gina [Prince-Bythewood, the director]. It was a weird moment. [Pauses.] I’m sorry, I’m getting emotional. I didn’t sleep very much last night. But, I do think this was a historic year for Black female filmmakers, and to see the lack of acknowledgement—that was a hard thing to swallow. I’m thrilled for our team and so proud, but that has to live alongside the fact that some of the best films of the year were made by Black female filmmakers and they weren’t honored.

And, of course, Women Talking is the only female-directed film to have made the best-picture shortlist. It made me wonder how much has really changed for women filmmakers, and especially women filmmakers of color, in the five years since #MeToo. What do you think?

I think it’s about big systemic change, not performative gestures. Over the last few years, I’ve seen some really good gestures—that’s better than nothing, but it’s not getting to the root of the problem. When you look at a movie like Till, Saint Omer, or The Woman King, it’s not like the work isn’t there. So now, I think it’s not just about representation—it’s about acknowledgement. It’s about whether we’re ignoring it or not.

And finally, I hope we don’t have to wait another 10 years for your next film? 

I hope so too. Making this film was such a joy and I do think I’ve figured out a way to do it where I don’t have to disappear on my family. So, I would like to come back to it sooner.