Author’s note: A version of this article originally appeared in the June 2015 print edition of Sight & Sound Magazine.
After fifteen years of international success on the stage with powerful dramatic plays including random and generations, London-based Debbie Tucker Green makes her screenwriting and directing debut with Second Coming. Elegantly and effortlessly blending elements of social and magical realism, it’s a hushed, disturbing parable starring Nadine Marshall as Jax, a married woman who mysteriously falls pregnant. It doesn’t seem that her partner Mark (Idris Elba) is the father, so who is? Perhaps the clue is in the title.
Green is famously publicity-shy, and rarely talks to the press, so I was pleased to be granted a rare interview at her agent’s offices in leafy West London. She’s far from retiring in person, though, speaking in a rapid-fire London patter, with her hands making a flurry of arcs and gestures in tandem with her words.
Ashley Clark: After working in the theatre for so many years, how did you come around to the idea of making a film?
Debbie Tucker Green: It’s a mountain to climb from thinking you’ve got a film — or even a script — to getting it made. Random started off as a stage play, and ran for years. I had no intention of it going onto screen because I don’t think things always translate very well [Tucker Green adapted it for Channel 4 in 2011]. It was just apparent when I was writing that Second Coming was a feature. I think in pictures, so I saw lots of air around this story. Visually, it had a different tone.
With regard to industrial practice, how did you find the process differed between stage and cinema?
When Film4 looked at an early draft, they were very into it. For me, it’s story and script first, and the other industry drama comes after. There’s more people involved in film, even when it’s low budget — more fingers in the pie. So that was a little newer. That was probably the biggest difference, people putting in their two-pence worth. If you “get it”, then it’s fine, we can work on the script; but if I don’t think you’re “getting it”, then we’re in a bit of trouble… With Random, at Channel 4, we had some rough and tumble. But we turned it around quite quickly. It was a case of “I haven’t got time for politeness, let’s just get on it.” I’m not saying it’s a horrible thing. There are a few more zeroes involved in film, and people are a bit more jumpy, so I understand it. You have to push back though, because, trust me, I recognise my film! [laughs]
Second Coming is, in places, purposefully ambiguous, or at least it absolutely refuses to spoon-feed information, and is happy to unfold at a measured pace. Was there any pressure on you from executives to explain more to the audience?
I thought the film was quite definitive! But it’s been interesting watching it with audiences, because it’s more open-ended than I’d thought, which is fine. It’s sparked debate, with people having little rows about what they thought happened. But there wasn’t much pressure on me about the ending. For me it was interesting to watch this woman over [the course of] her pregnancy and not be sure. It’s all played out in a day-to-day way; a lot of it for Jax is behind the eyes; her trying to keep up.
And Nadine Marshall is especially good in a tricky role…
She’s alright [laughs]. No, I’m joking. The part wasn’t written for her, or anything like that. I don’t write for actors. The script was there, I’d worked with her before. There was a thought process: she was right, age-wise, for one. And whoever played Jax, Mark and the kid… you had to feel it before you could see it. Sometimes I don’t always believe family units onscreen. I was still thinking about combinations. I can’t remember at what stage we cast Kai [Francis-Lewis, as Jax’s son JJ], but things started falling into place. I hadn’t worked with Idris before, and Kai had only done one job. The brief to the casting director was that I just wanted a regular kid who goes to drama club once a week or whatever— nothing against signed-up stage school kids.
Your dialogue is rhythmical and intricate; it loops and repeats and interlocks. Is your writing more influenced by music than than other playwrights?
I definitely love music, and what it can do. There’s something for me about the playfulness of dialogue; music reflects on language definitely, whether it’s kids or grown-ups. It’s something that we have that’s very flexible. Yet the film gets quieter and quieter as we go through. You’ve got a character [Jax] who becomes more internal. There’s something quite powerful [cinematically] about having the time, and space, to watch her do that.
I wrote for this magazine in 2013 about Horace Ové’s 1976 film Pressure, and how it’s still so depressingly rare to see everyday black British life — in this case a family of West Indian heritage — represented on film. Too often I feel we see still black British representation pegged around certain limited issues: youth crime, absent fatherhood etc. Your film was so moving for me because it was just like going around to my Jamaican grandmother’s house — I was watching it at the Toronto Film Festival, having not long moved to live in the States from London, and I honestly welled up at the sight of a bottle of Encona Hot Pepper Sauce on the dinner table! How can it be so rare to see ourselves represented? Was that issue a consideration for you?
For me it’s about this particular family, they’re just regular folks. I’m not looking to represent the whole, because everybody lives differently. It wasn’t a huge “I must do this, that and the other”, but rather I just wanted to stay true to these characters; it so happens they are of specific heritage. To me it’s important these characters have their foundation. People have told me things like you’ve just done, which is great. But you need to go and talk to the commissioners, innit! People who’ve got the money to fund stuff. There are stories out there to be told, and the talent is out there.