When directors go from the stage to the screen, a number of recurring concerns sometimes arise, such as over-permissiveness with performers or a visual inertia that mimics the immobile sets of the proscenium. However, in Lila Neugebauer’s film debut Causeway, for which she was nominated for a Tony Award, her stage experience is a far larger advantage than a hindrance.
The patient sensitivity she honed on Broadway and off- was essential to the stripped-down character piece about an Afghanistan vet (Jennifer Lawrence, as good as she’s ever been) recovering in New Orleans and the soft-spoken local (Brian Tyree Henry, with whom Neugebauer goes way back) suffering from PTSD. As they drive around the city — photographed with greater attention to detail than the vast majority of the numerous productions shot in New Orleans — and take the occasional dip in the pools she’s supposed to be cleaning, they reveal a mutual vulnerability that could only be developed in real time on set.
Neugebauer’s conviction in the significance of rehearsal is but one tenet of a larger dedication to hands-on, person-to-person engagement that allows her partners the opportunity to thrive. She treated her first picture largely as an opportunity to learn, immersing herself in the city hosting her as well as the presence of her starring actress. In both instances, she gained a better understanding by spending the time to develop a connection. The benefits of this go-the-extra-mile mindset are evident in a small drama with a true, credible soul, despite its writerly embellishments. And with Neugebauer, American indie film introduces the next name we should mentally file away for future professional reference.
On the phone the day before Causeway premiered in theaters and on Apple TV+ this month, “sick as a dog” by her own admission, Neugebauer nonetheless took the time to speak with Decider about finding her place in the Crescent City, bonding with the elusive J-Law, killing her darlings during the editing process, and declining fried gator (for now).
DECIDER: My understanding is that this script went through a number of developmental stages between its earliest drafts and its current form. Can you walk us through the story’s many stages of development?
LILA NEUGEBAUER: Elizabeth Sanders’s original screenplay, which I read in the spring of 2019, was wonderfully made, poetic, profoundly felt, cautious, patient, and extremely nontraditionally constructed. It was an adaptation of the novella Red, White, and Water that she had written. The DNA of the current picture is entrenched in the story’s outlines, setting, and concept.
The initial phase of development was influenced by the realization that I could not produce this film without consulting with people who would live through this experience. So I began an intensive process of interviewing medical professionals in the field of traumatic brain injury, especially at Harbor Healthcare, a division of the United States Department of Veterans Affairs in New York.
Those chats continued at the New Orleans VA while I was filming. I also spoke with active-duty military personnel and veterans, many of whom had TBIs, but we also addressed their motivations for enrolling, their time abroad, and the difficulties they had upon returning home. Therefore, I would say that these dialogues converted a beautiful and poetic script into something more founded in clinical reality.
Along the journey, we also benefited from the talents of narrative and dialogue writers Luke Goebel and Ottessa Moshfegh. Then, we included Brian [Tyree Henry] and Jennifer [Lawrence] from the beginning in the creation of their roles. They were emotionally invested in these characters, and they are dramaturgically savvy individuals for whom this became and remains deeply personal. These discussions were helpful in enhancing my comprehension of the characters and their relationships.
The conclusion of this monologue is that editing is also a sort of writing in which you reorganize, omit, condense, and rearrange. It is already common knowledge that I filmed flashbacks for this film, including sequences set in Afghanistan and the US Army-operated hospital in Landstuhl, Germany. I adored this video. We filmed the entire film using 16mm film, and it looked fantastic.
Our legendary production designer, Jack Fisk, transformed a New Orleans waste into an army outpost. We developed a stronger emotional relationship between camera and person as a counterweight to the present-tense material. It was a heartbreaking realization that these moments did not have a place in the strongest version of this picture.
Jennifer Lawrence and Lila Neugebauer on the set of Causeway.
Image of Wilson Webb
I wonder whether this is all foreign to you as a theatrical director, where the material is largely accepted in its original form.
Since I’ve spent the most of my theatrical career working on brand-new plays, the process of script-shaping is really pretty familiar to me. Frequently, I’ve joined projects in their infancy, or I’ve been in the same room with a screenplay for years of workshops. My theatrical group, The Mad Ones, is expanding into television, and we have been writing together for twelve years. There are five of us, and we co-write plays, while the rest of the group perform and I direct. The technique of flexing this muscle, of getting into the weeds with the words, seemed quite natural to me.
I would have imagined that your theatrical training is most useful when dealing with performers. These sequences are driven by the acting, and the rehearsals are evident in how naturally these roles are inhabited. On a film set, when everything is driven by timetables and finances, is it challenging to create the trust and intimacy inherent to the theater?
The fact that I’ve known Brian since I was nineteen was really lucky. This was our first time working together, though we had known each other since we were undergraduates. Therefore, a foundation of trust existed between us. As you stated, time is not your friend, therefore this was quite helpful in creating a shorthand throughout our time on set. Similarly, this idea came together rapidly and by chance when I met Jen. Six weeks later, I learnt that Jen had also read the screenplay and had a strong reaction to it, as I had. I was asked if I would have dinner with her, we did, an instant rapport developed, and she signed on the spot. We began manufacturing many months later.
I spent two weeks going to her house every morning shortly after that supper. We read each page of the screenplay very slowly page by page.
At that time, we were not even considering performance or outcomes. We were simply conversing, free-associating, and riffing on how this material affected us individually. We discussed our own experiences and where we recognized ourselves in Lynsey and James. During this period, we formed a common language and grew to know one other on a fundamental level. You referred to “intimacy” previously, and I believe you are spot-on. This also applies to every member of the supporting cast, the majority of whom I knew through New York’s theater world. I hadn’t worked with all of them, but I had long appreciated everyone I didn’t know personally. It was a delight to be surrounded by so many familiar faces.
However, time restraints are a difficulty. However, it is still feasible to converse attentively and properly if you are interested in arousing the curiosity of others. You observe how an actor speaks to you and the kind of questions they ask through listening. I do not think that any two performers or, for that matter, any two collaborators speak the same language. The pleasure of the job is developing a specific language with a client in order to unleash their creativity.
Everett Collection image
I formerly lived in New Orleans, and during the previous ten years, I’ve seen a variety of depictions of the city in films made there. This one seems to be the most realistic to life as I knew it. How did you discover your position within the city’s culture?
I have so many questions to ask you regarding restaurants. We are going to return to that point.
While you were in town, did you consume alligator?
I’m very sorry! I was too frightened. Next time, however. However, this video was my first introduction to New Orleans. Due to a constellation of circumstances spanning three years, production setup occurred there, so I had the good fortune to spend a great deal of time there prior to filming.
And pardon me if this seems a bit Pollyanna, but I truly believe the city has an effect on you. Numerous American cities are similar to one another, yet New Orleans is unlike any other city. The residents of New Orleans welcomed us into their homes and streets with unfathomable hospitality.
As you are well aware, the city has endured more than its fair share of communal tragedy, and the resilience was evident to me in countless ways. I’d argue that the film and our lives were physically and intangibly enriched by the pride of place. I feel obliged to the city and its residents for instilling in me some of that contagious pride for a place that I rapidly grew to like. Even if our protagonist feels ill at ease in her own home, I felt the need to create an image of a unique American metropolis that is hopefully genuine, honest, and loving.
New Orleans has long been associated with its tourist attractions, such as Bourbon Street and the French Quarter. It was crucial for this film, and for me as a resident of the city in general, to access the intimate areas that make this city seem like a home, revealing something that belonged to the actual people. The entire film was shot in New Orleans. I cannot determine what is in the air. It is dense.
This film is particularly appropriate to New Orleans since it’s primarily about hanging around; the protagonists work in a functional city filled with people who have obligations, but their lives are primarily centered on leisure. We observe them consuming snowballs, chilling in a park, smoking a joint, and swimming. My stay in the city was characterized by this blend of city life and a mindset that prioritized taking things easy.
There are several reasons for the film’s pacing, the majority of them relate to the emotional metabolism of these reserved individuals. I want the audience to be patient, just as we want our characters to be patient with themselves. And I now recognize that this must have been influenced by my stay in New Orleans, where everything moves at the speed it does. If it is slower, it is slower.
And it is hoped that a sense of the city is also conveyed through the sound design; we discussed at length how, in a city with such various musical traditions, we might best convey this aurally. We considered a standard soundtrack, but eventually determined that New Orleans would not be found there. Instead, I diligently collaborated with the sound crew in order to cover all the gaps in the film with music emanating from passing automobiles, porches, and stores. It combines bounce, soul, jazz, and hip-hop with the streetcar, conversation, and buzzing wires. This was as crucial to me as the visual aspect.
Despite the film’s cinematic characteristics, something about it — maybe the way in which it wears its symbolism — reminds me of a play. Even when you’re working in a new media, does your conception of narrative have a theatrical element, given your background?
I wish to create a wide variety of films in various registers and styles. I imagine that my life in the theater, which will continue, will coexist with my desire to direct films. I have no notion, though, is the brief response to your inquiry. I’m going to do a play, and I have several other film and television projects in the very early stages of production, so I believe this will only become evident over time, when patterns and habits form. I am excited about it.