CHRON: Hillary Clinton-produced documentary shows the women taking on Texas' abortion ban

By Chris Vognar

It's easy for issues to become merely issues, especially amid the cascade of headlines and news crawls in an election year. Until those issues have human voices, and faces, and narratives, we enjoy the comfort of distance. Yes, (fill in the blank) is very important. But I'm busy.

The new documentary Zurawski v Texas takes one of those issues—the challenges facing women who seek an abortion in the wake of the Supreme Court decision to strike down Roe v. Wade—and brings it home in the most immediate of terms. In telling the story of three Texas women denied abortions despite facing grave health risks to themselves and/or their unborn children, the film reveals a Kafkaesque legal labyrinth that somehow never takes into account the well-being of those with the most to gain or lose.

So why does it also feel hopeful? Partly due to the determination of the women at the heart of the film, denied abortions by frightened doctors. Amanda Zurawski's water broke 18 weeks into her pregnancy; she nearly died of sepsis as she waited for care. Samantha Casiano learned 20 weeks into her pregnancy that her baby had no chance of survival; her daughter lived for four hours, gasping for air. Dr. Austin Dennard, a Texas OB-GYN, had to leave the state to get an abortion when she learned she was carrying a fetus with a fatal condition; she then returned knowing she would have to turn away patients or potentially face a 99-year prison sentence. As written, the Texas abortion ban contains an exception for serious medical issues. But the law is so vaguely and restrictively written that doctors are afraid to provide abortions for fear of losing their licenses or going to prison.

Representing the film's three central characters is attorney Molly Duane of the Center for Reproductive Rights, who faces a Sisyphean task. Her clients—the film focuses on the three detailed above, but the suit gains new parties the way a steady stone gathers moss—have compelling stories laden not only with emotional appeal but also common sense.

At the heart of Zurawski v Texas are a series of court hearings that Orwell would appreciate. In one, Dennard, whose coolly contained outrage comes from a place both personal and professional, explains to the judge how the law scares doctors into denying abortions even under the gravest medical circumstances. The state's attorney asks Dennard if Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton told her that she couldn't get an abortion. Dennard, a combination of bemusement and disbelief on her face, replies: I never asked him. These proceedings generally go well for the plaintiffs, with the judges recognizing not just the common sense but the common decency of the case. Then the state appeals, and Paxton swoops in, issuing new threats to doctors, appealing to the state supreme court, and stonewalling ad infinitum. If Duane is Sisyphus, Paxton is the heavy boulder.

This process of victory, defeat, regrouping, and trying again requires steely resolve, which understandably cracks throughout the film. These women have already been through hell; Casiano breaks down every time she visits her daughter's grave, and Zurawski wrestles with the fact that she may never be able to conceive a child after her near-death experience. Nevertheless, they persist. They are the film's source of both despair and hope, the dramatic engine that keeps it moving and from ever getting dry. Zurawski v Texas makes a strong case for the old adage that the political is personal, and vice versa.

Directed by Maisie Crow and Abbie Perrault, Zurawski v Texas is absolutely, undeniably pro-choice. It has celebrity executive producers, including Hillary Clinton, Chelsea Clinton and Jennifer Lawrence, who believe in the cause, and it makes clear that it shares those beliefs. But the film remains tightly focused on the health care crisis engendered by restrictive anti-abortion laws, and the consequences of placing dogma above the health of not only women but also their children. The filmmakers have crafted a narrative with rich characters that moves forward with an urgency befitting its argument. It's easy to make a boring, hectoring film about an important issue. This is definitely not that.

Texas certainly isn't the only state enduring health care chaos in the wake of Roe's overthrow, and as the film progresses, Duane and her colleagues are contacted by women throughout the country looking for answers. But it's jarring to get a good look at the obstinacy and arrogance of the Paxton legal machine. Zurawski v Texas is essentially the story of a state—the state, the state, the state; the two words become an ominous mantra—that doesn't seem to care much about the people it supposedly represents. Logical appeals are made. Emotional appeals are made. Medical appeals are made. And they all seem to fall on ears not merely deaf, but utterly indifferent. The film provides a portrait of a broken system, with stewards who seem to have no interest in fixing it.