AWD Icon Members work extensively in feature films, television, commercials, music videos, and/or new media. They have not only shown exceptional skill and/or received substantial acclaim, but are also advocates for AWD’s mission for parity in the entertainment industry.
AWD Icon Member JAN ELIASBERG graduated from the Yale School of Drama Directing Program where she helmed close to sixty productions and worked with incredible actors including Frances McDormand, John Turturro, Tony Shalhoub, and Angela Bassett. She then attended AFI’s Directing Workshop for Women and segued into a prolific career directing across genres in film and television (eg. “Miami Vice,” “Party of Five,” “Sisters”). Jan is also a screenwriter and is currently writing a memoir and researching what will be her second novel.
Jan talked with AWD about how the diversity of her training informs her work, her desire to be constantly challenged, and how she circumvents risk-adverse Hollywood.
AWD: Your works are known for their rich, character-driven narratives. Can you share your process for bringing characters to life on screen from their initial written form?
JE: Characters, like human beings, are layered and complex, composed of billions of tiny moments, experiences, and relationships. The work of creating a character – in coaching an actor; writing a screenplay or writing a novel – is rooted in a deep understanding and knowledge of the story, as well as an imaginative leap into the characters’ subconscious needs and desires. My curiosity about what makes a character tick has been informed by my studies of Freud and Jung, D.W. Winnicott and the other “greats” of psychoanalysis.
Writing imaginatively has always been a way for me to tap into my own unconscious knowledge. I will often take weeks to simply write in a free-associative way about small moments in each character’s life, in or outside the story, from the character’s point of view, and often in the voice of the character. I sometimes share my writing with the actors but, even if I don’t, all that unconscious work has built an entire life for the character in my imagination, with moments large and small that I can call on as the basis for improvisation, or backstory.
As a director, I break down the script as I learned to do in the theater, determining each character’s arc through the story and how his or her motivations change depending on the given circumstances of the scene. Ultimately, I’ll know the action (which I think of as the characters’ “wants” or “needs”) through every beat of the story. In theater, where one has the luxury of rehearsal time, the actors and I play with different ways for them to achieve what they want. I will also improvise scenes that aren’t necessarily in the script, but are alluded to as having happened in the past, or having happened offstage.
In television, even working incredibly quickly, I can use action words as a shorthand for that kind of exploration. At the beginning of rehearsal, I ground each actor in the reality of where they’ve been in the scene before this one, whether or not it’s in the script, so they’re already bringing a sense of lived experience into the scene. I want to orient an actor to walk into a scene freighted with the experience of what happened in the moments before. That’s the way to give a character a life beyond the frame of the shot, or a life beyond the proscenium.
When an actor is stuck or giving a one-dimensional performance, I’ll sometimes whisper a different action word in his or her ear — giving them something different to play. That will usually alter the scene completely, affecting not only the actor to whom I gave the note, but also her scene partner as well. That’s when the surprises happen. That’s what’s exciting to see on screen – an actor genuinely reacting to an unexpected moment. If I can create enough of those moments over the course of the show, the film, the play, then I have something alive and unpredictable, revelations of character that will catch the audience off-balance.
Coming from a theater background, how did you adapt your directing methods to effectively communicate your vision to both cast and crew in television and film?
One of the many great things about the Yale School of Drama Directing Program was that the directors had to take every class the other disciplines took: we took acting classes with the actors and had to do scene work; we took design classes with the designers and had to learn how to create the world of the play into visual form through sets, costumes and lighting. We took playwriting with the playwrights and theater history and criticism classes with the dramaturgs.
By the time I’d graduated from Yale, I knew how to speak the basic language of everyone in any department. That became incredibly useful in collaborating with Writers, Cinematographers, Production Designers, Costume Designers in film. I also gained a lot of respect for what each department had to offer. I knew, for example, that an actor often meets the costume designer for a fitting before he even gets on set, so I knew I needed the costume designer to be working within my overall vision. I know how the right prop can add richness and depth to a character’s history.
Malcolm Gladwell’s rule is that it takes 10,000 hours of intensive practice to achieve mastery of complex skills and materials. It’s almost impossible to spend that much time directing in the real world, where you need money, time, actors, and crew who’ll work for free. In addition to training, that’s what I got at Yale Drama School. I directed almost sixty plays – from staged readings to full-on productions – working with actors who turned out to be some of the best of our generation: Fran McDormand; John Turturro; Tony Shalhoub; Angela Bassett; the list goes on and on. I can’t think of a better way to get 10,000 hours of practice.
When I was accepted into the AFI’s Directing Workshop for Women, I already knew how to direct; the principles are the same. I had to figure out how to apply the principles to the myriad of tools available to a film director that aren’t available in theater. In each of my first jobs, I’d set myself a specific task: in this episode, I want to teach myself about lenses. I forbade the D.P. from using a Zoom and forced myself to make conscious lens choices for every shot. In another episode, I’d focus on editing, deliberately shooting as many angles as I could so I could play with different editing patterns in Post. In another episode, I tried to create as many shots as possible with a moving camera, using dolly tracks and dance floor even for close ups. I feel extremely lucky that I was, essentially, paid to learn how to direct film.
Your move from theater to television and film was driven by a desire for personal growth. How important is it to find enjoyment in your creative endeavors, and how has this approach influenced your career?
It hasn’t been a desire to find enjoyment, but rather my desire to be constantly challenged, constantly exploring. Achieving mastery isn’t necessarily enjoyable; it can be quite terrifying. But I like that frisson of fear, that sense of challenge, never being satisfied with the status quo. I think that’s been the primary motivation for my career trajectory overall, and the trajectory of my life – the desire to explore what’s around the corner or on the other side of the mountain.
It’s also turned out to be an excellent strategy for surmounting the obstacles of any long-term career in Hollywood. Business in general is risk averse and Hollywood is more risk averse than most. You get pigeonholed by whatever you’ve just done. After Michael Mann picked me to be the first woman to direct MIAMI VICE, and I had an open invitation to direct as many as I wanted, suddenly I was pegged as the “testosterone-filled action director”. I was offered WISEGUY, 21 JUMP STREET, CRIME STORY, all of those macho action shows.
My agent had to remind studios, networks and producers that I’d gone to Yale Drama School and had gotten my start nurturing great performances from great actors. Then, after SISTERS, DAWSON’S CREEK, ANY DAY NOW and PARTY OF FIVE, no one believed I could direct action anymore. It’s a constant but worthy struggle to keep breaking out of those too-tight boxes.
One needs to cultivate a kind of “F*ck you! I’ll show you” attitude. When I couldn’t get my screenplay financed with me directing, the passion to tell the story out was so strong that I threw caution to the winds, said, “F*ck you!” and wrote it as a novel.
In the 1990s when I’d directed multiple episodes of the NBC show “SISTERS,” I loved the cast, the crew and the writers but I felt that I’d brought just about everything I could to four seasons as a director, so I told my agent, “When they come to you with an offer for me to direct, tell them I’ll do it if I get a script to write.” They gave me one script assignment and I was able to parlay that into a three year job writing and producing on staff.
It might not have been the best career strategy in terms of creating a “brand” for myself, but I never wanted to rest on my laurels. I was always more interested in the next challenge.
How have your experiences as a director and screenwriter shaped your transition into writing novels?
In every way. Breaking down and analyzing the work of great playwrights – Ibsen, the Greeks, or Shakespeare, for example – taught me how to structure my own material first as a screenwriter, and then as a novelist. I’d internalized successful story structure, knowing instinctively how to build rising action; how to jump into a scene at the very last minute and get out of a scene before the conflict has been resolved, where the “all is lost” crisis point should come.
As a director I understand how to make a few essential images in each scene stand out, which helped me pare narration in my screenplays down to essential images, like words in a poem. When I sit down to write a scene in a novel, I’ll start with the five senses, which is often how I start coaching actors into a scene: what do I see? What do I hear? What can I taste? What can I smell? What do I feel? An image will come into my mind that guides me into the scene. That’s a great tool for a moment when one feels creatively stuck – as a writer, or as a director working with actors.
I knew that actors always hate dialogue that’s on the nose, functioning as pure exposition; dialogue should be about subtext, what’s unsaid. That understanding fueled my approach to writing textured, interesting dialogue, something people often comment on in my writing.
What inspires you to bring often-overlooked stories of women’s history to the screen, and what is your approach to telling these impactful stories?
When I look for subjects, I look for the “tears in the fabric of society.” I can’t think of a more profound “tear” in the social fabric than the way our patriarchal, Calvinist society imprisons and limits women: suppressing women’s voices; denying women’s economic rights; coming after the rights of women to basic bodily self-determination; and limiting the education of both men and women to the facts of women’s history.
The great thinker, historian and pioneer in women’s studies, Gerda Lerner (author of The Creation of Patriarchy) said, “Women’s History is the primary tool for Women’s emancipation.”
I’m not interested in creating films or novels that perpetuate the history we’ve been taught: incomplete, misleading, and incorrect. That history explains a world that doesn’t exist, that never has existed – it’s a world in which men are at the center of all human enterprise and women are at the margins supporting them as assistants, mothers, wives, and mistresses.
I believe we should have a “Lerner” test, to replace the fabulous-but-outdated “Bechdel” test: the question we should be asking: “in this film or series, is a woman the center of the enterprise?” By that measure, films like “ANATOMY OF A FALL,” “ALIEN” and “TAR” would pass the test, as would many series, “LADY IN THE LAKE,” “FLEABAG,” “I MAY DESTROY YOU,” LESSONS IN CHEMISTRY,” “THE KILLING,” would all qualify.
I’m not saying these are the only movies and series we should make, I just don’t want to contribute to the glut of media which centers around men. I feel that it’s my responsibility – and my privilege – as a storyteller to correct the record. To put women at the center of the enterprise. Whether in film, non-fiction, or fiction, it’s my mission to challenge the myths of history.
What advice would you give to directors when navigating creative differences with Studios or networks?
I’m probably the worst person to give advice about navigating creative differences, I’m tenacious and articulate in fighting for what I believe. I’d like to think, however, that I’m not pig-headed or close-minded; I’m willing to listen and accept other opinions if I can understand the wisdom behind them. A great collaboration is composed of players who are all passionate, articulate, and informed. In collaborations like that, there are no “creative differences,” there’s a communal trust and faith in finding the best outcome.
I feel that my job, as a director, producer or writer, is to fight for the project – and I think of the project as a baby. Strip away ego; it’s not about which one of us is “right,” it’s about what’s best for the baby.
So, my advice would be: make sure when you sign onto a project that your view of the project is aligned with those of your collaborators and bosses. Don’t marry someone who’s a strict disciplinarian if you’re not comfortable letting your child cry herself to sleep. Don’t raise a child with an Anti-Vaxxer if you believe in vaccinations.
You might not be exactly aligned in how to achieve the shared vision – how long do you let your child cry, for example, before you go in to comfort him – but make sure your essential values and principles are aligned. If they aren’t, it’s better to walk away from a project rather than moving ahead with the false belief that you’ll somehow be able to work things out.
Given the changes happening in entertainment, what do you foresee for the future of the industry, and what are your hopes for emerging women and nonbinary filmmakers?
Frankly, in the short term, I think the future looks quite grim. The industry is undergoing a severe contraction. No one has really figured out how to make money from the streaming model – that, coupled with the pandemic and the strikes, has crippled the industry, so fewer and fewer projects are being funded.
Given that, I’ve been inspired to see truly original work from female writer/directors like Alma Har’el, whose LADY IN THE LAKE is simply stunning. It’s heartening to see an actress like Natalie Portman put her faith as an actress and producer, along with a substantial budget, in the hands of a female “auteuse.” Fran McDormand did that with Chloé Zhao, Nicole Kidman did the same with Lulu Wang.
It’s also heartening that now, as opposed to when I started in my career, there’s a large pool of female directing talent. That is the direct result of a legal case spearheaded by a director and friend of mine named Maria Giese, with which I was also involved. Based on appalling statistics in the 1990s, Maria brought the issue of gender discrimination in directing to the attention of the ACLU, which forwarded its report to the Department of Justice.
The Equal Employment Opportunity Commission filed what’s known as a “Commission’s Charge.” As a result the studios and networks were all put on notice that, if they didn’t change the numbers dramatically, they would be facing a Federal Lawsuit.
And, what do you know? Suddenly women directors were being hired in record numbers. There’s still discrimination, of course, and there’s always the possibility of regression (women and minorities are usually the first to be fired when a recession hits, and cutbacks start happening), but Giese’s pioneering work was responsible for a great leap forward from which all female, non-binary and trans directors are the direct beneficiaries.
As an Icon Member of the Alliance of Women Directors, how do you advocate for and support women and nonbinary artists in the directing field?
When I was directing episodic television, I always had a woman shadowing me on set – long before the hundreds of shadowing programs that now flood the industry. After I’d finished blocking a scene, I’d ask how she would shoot it – show me a ground plan with camera angles and give me a shot list, as well as explaining her reasons for the choices she made. I don’t believe that shadowing is particularly helpful unless you’re actually engaged in the choices the director is making, so I would always try to keep the women shadowing me creatively engaged.
Very early on, I helped a couple of directors get their first jobs: Mimi Leder, for example, was the script supervisor when I directed my first L.A. LAW. I watched her short film and spoke with Steven Bochco and Greg Hoblit about giving her a shot. I’ve served many times as a judge for the AFI Directing Workshop for Women and I can’t even count how many letters of recommendation I’ve written to AFI DWW, as well as other fellowship programs.
When I moved back to New York in 2019, I taught directing as a Visiting Artist at NYU Tisch. I was vigilant about showing as many clips from female directed films as from male directed ones. It’s hard to under-estimate how many directing classes show Scorsese, Tarantino, Hawks, Hitchcock and the other male masters to the exclusion of female masters like Jane Campion, Wertmüller, Agnieska Holland, or Ida Lupino.
I’m curating a film series for Park West Center, the new arts complex that Mark Ruffalo, Matt Damon, J Smith Cameron and Kenny Lonergan are supporting; the films are all going to be by women directors from what I consider to be the “Lost Generation” of filmmakers: my generation, the women who would be the oscar-winning auteurs of today had they not had to fight so hard against systemic sexism: Maggie Greenwald; Euzhan Palcy; Mary Lambert; Martha Coolidge; Claudia Weill; Allison Anders; Penelope Spheeris; Amy Heckerling, and others.
Are there any upcoming projects or collaborations you’re excited about that you’d like to share with AWD?
That film series is one of them; I’d love to put the concept of the “Lost Generation of Female Filmmakers” on the map.
I’m also writing a memoir about my experience breaking glass ceilings – what it means to move as a woman through a world that is suffused with male privilege and violence in all its myriad forms. Some of them brutal, more of them insidious, embedded, rendered all but invisible by history and silent acceptance, and all the more powerful for that.
Finally I’m researching my second book of fiction. I can’t say too much about it except that it’s a sequel of sorts to my first novel, HANNAH’S WAR, following a character named Sabine, who disappears a third of the way into the novel.
HANNAH’S WAR, which was inspired by a remarkable woman who has been unjustly erased from history, is available HERE. you can find it on Amazon. If you’re curious to know more about my work and my career you can visit my WEBSITE.