If, before 2022, you were ever called “hysterical” for voicing your concerns that a U.S.-based woman’s constitutionally protected right to have an abortion was actually hanging by a thread, you’ll find an intrepid sympathizer in Molly Duane. She is the tireless Center for Reproductive Rights attorney at the center of “Zurawski v Texas,” Maisie Crow and Abbie Perrault’s unflinching, cumulatively disquieting new documentary.
Indeed, Duane and her team have heard that word before, prior to the Supreme Court overturning 1973’s landmark Roe v. Wade ruling that used to safeguard women’s reproductive freedoms. But there she is in the aftermath of her worst fears coming true, fighting for those who can’t have access to a necessary, sometimes life-saving healthcare procedure.
The legal battle that Crow and Perrault chart in their conventionally styled but powerful film is against the title state Texas, which almost completely banned abortions on the heels of the Supreme Court verdict, albeit with some exemptions for various life-threatening conditions. But as “Zurawski v Texas” lucidly spells out throughout its economic running time, smartly trading in facts instead of heavy-handed sensationalism, the exemption law is so ambiguous that doctors are left in the dark about whether they can legally provide abortions to their patients, even in medically and logically no-brainer situations — non-viable pregnancies where the baby wouldn’t survive birth, and the mother’s long-term reproductive health would be irreversibly compromised.
It is, of course, one thing to read and understand these words, and entirely another to feel the human impact of the law’s real-life consequences. Executive produced by a number of high-profile names like Jennifer Lawrence and Hillary and Chelsea Clinton, “Zurawski v Texas” wears those relatable implications on its sleeve with heart and defiance. We witness the traumas of actual patients who become Duane’s clients throughout her multi-pronged lawsuit that extends from local courtrooms to the Texan Supreme Court. Among them is the lead plaintiff Amanda Zurawski, who nearly died when her water broke prematurely at only 18 weeks into her pregnancy. Her doctors didn’t perform the medically vital abortion that she should have gotten, forcing her to wait until she became septic. Despite having sufficient means, Zurawski and her husband couldn’t do anything to protect her physical and emotional safety.
A plaintiff with fewer economic privileges, spirited mother Samantha Casiano experienced a similar heartbreak, finding out during her 20-week ultrasound that her fetus wasn’t compatible with life. Knowing that her baby wouldn’t survive, and without the required funds and logistical support to leave the state for a legal abortion, she was made to carry her pregnancy to term, only to watch her suffering daughter Halo live for just four hours. Calm and composed plaintiff Dr. Austin Dennard, an OB-GYN herself, had to leave Texas for her abortion, after her doctors revealed that her pregnancy came with a fatal condition. In spite of having gone through a horrific experience herself, she sadly had to turn away patients seeking an abortion after the overturning of Roe v. Wade, given financial and legal ramifications that would threaten the survival of her practice.
Crow and Perrault previously demonstrated their undaunted storytelling instincts and camerawork also evident in “At The Ready,” an eye-opening documentary about kids growing up on the Mexican border pursuing careers in law enforcement. Here, the filmmakers caringly weave together these sobering storylines, addressing with patience and clarity the urgency of these women’s causes and Duane’s work. They don’t shy away from hard truths, either. In one extremely difficult yet essential scene, Halo’s funeral (and her lifeless form) appears on the screen, but the shattering moment lands with raw compassion, not emotional exploitation.
Elsewhere, in charting the journeys of Zurawski, Casiano and Dennard — the very first patient-plaintiffs who testified in favor of abortion rights since the ruling of Roe v. Wade — we witness numerous testimonies, an unsympathetic Attorney General in Ken Paxton, tragic funeral home negotiations, trauma-based eating disorders, unspeakable grief and difficult phone calls placed and received throughout, about unsuccessful pregnancies, medical bills, court rulings and so on. Thankfully, there are moments of calm and humor too, with the women’s personalities and against-the-odds resolve shining through. In one such instance, Crow and Perrault’s unfussy camera lingers on Duane’s coffee mug just long enough for us to read its slogan: “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my reproductive rights.”
“Zurawski v Texas” wisely argues that abortion access — currently supported by Democrats, and denied by the Republican Party — shouldn’t be a left or right issue, but a bipartisan matter. To that end, the Zurawskis’ formerly Republican family members open up about their political change of heart after having held Amanda’s hand through her battles. The film also challenges the gendered interpretation of abortion as a woman-only issue, underscoring the long-term goals of abortion access, such as healthy familial growth on one’s own terms and the resulting societal wellbeing. With its insistence on prioritizing individual stories over cold talking points, “Zurawski v Texas” becomes the first abortion-focused documentary to approach the emotional power of Martha Shane and Lana Wilson’s 2013 film “After Tiller.”
Another achievement of the documentary is its well-defined revelation that the confusing abortion rulebook of Texas is in fact designed to pit anxious healthcare professionals against their patients, while the state itself slyly sidesteps blame. But as Dr. Dennard succinctly puts it, “You think it’s your pregnancy, but it’s the state’s pregnancy.” The ambiguity robs both parties of their agency. “Zurawski v Texas” substantiates this fact with specificity, and is more effective still when Kate Cox joins the plaintiffs’ ranks in the midst of her own medical emergency, while Duane tries to secure her an urgent exemption from Texas.
For all of the women and their families, there are some small wins of dignity along the way. But it’s no spoiler to say that the continuing losses are far greater and more consequential — a dispiriting note that “Zurawski v Texas” has no choice but to end on. But miraculously, something other than defeat emerges amid that loss: hope, carried on the shoulders of the fearless fighters given a voice by this film.
