100 Nights Of Hero Holds Up A Mirror To Our World
Director Julia Jackman reveals how the folksy sci-fi fantasy parallels our own modern foibles.
It’s the kind of world that’s nearly identical to our own: a stifling patriarchal society complete with an oppressive organized religion and strict expectations for women. That this world was created by a child with god-like powers and happens to orbit three moons are just two minor points of contrast. Give or take a few sci-fi flourishes, 100 Nights of Hero could easily be a fairytale set in our own modern world. When it comes to the queer coming-of-age at the heart of this story, or the modern relatability of its “villain” — a slinky softboy (Nicholas Galitzine) hellbent on seducing a pious newlywed (Maika Monroe) — it could easily be mistaken for an off-beat romantic comedy. But there are other parallels, like its ultra-conservative society wherein reading is forbidden and certain stories are banned, that director Julia Jackman finds almost uncomfortably timely.
“It was a bit sad to be like, ‘Oh, this feels relevant.’”
“I wasn’t expecting it to be more prescient,” Jackman tells Inverse over Zoom. The graphic novel that 100 Nights takes inspiration from, written by Isabel Greenberg, was published in 2016 — and though some things had changed in those eight years, “it was a bit sad to be like, ‘Oh, this feels relevant.’”
Still, that relevance gives 100 Nights a new sense of urgency. A fantasy about the importance of stories, and of the inner voice, carries a different weight in this day and age. It elevates the film into a cathartic call to action — at least, that’s what Jackman is hoping audiences take away from the indie romance.
Ahead of the film’s premiere, Jackman sits down with Inverse to break down 100 Nights’ lo-fi fantasy aesthetic, Nicholas Galitzine’s subversive villain turn, and the ironic influence of the powers that be.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
Jackman at the 100 Nights of Hero premiere.
I understand that you’ve been working on this on and off for almost 10 years.
Yeah. Eight years, I would say. [But] “working on it” is sort of a loose term. It’s more like yearning for it with little pockets of trying to push it forward. No one really was ready to jump in and develop it with me. The sort of gatekeepers or powers that be — understandably, I get it. They just felt it was incredibly difficult to adapt. The anthological stories within stories thing [was] weird and a bit niche, I think, to them. And so I ended up kind of... while trying to make a living and all of this, I just sort of cracked on [with it] myself.
I wrote a draft before the pandemic... I took a good few years’ break from it while I made my first feature. And then when I was asked what was next, I took it out and looked at it again and had a whole new perspective and worked on a new draft. It went from being very slow and this thing that I’d been hoping for for years, to something quite quick once actors were interested.
“It’s a tale as old as time, but a new type of villain on screen rather than a pantomime one.”
You made 100 Nights on a pretty modest budget. I love how this is touching on sci-fi fantasy through a lo-fi, folksy lens. I feel like we don’t get many genre pieces on a quieter, more focused scale.
It was scrappy, yeah. And I think it can be a double-edged sword, because if people are coming in expecting what is usually the case — something huge and polished and epic — inevitably, when faced with something strange and scrappier and more intimate, it’s just different than what... It reminds me of when I was in cinemas when I was maybe too young watching Brokeback Mountain. And at some point this older man just stands up during the sex scene in the tent, just stands and he goes, “What kind of cowboy movie is this?” [Laughs] That man did not understand the assignment. He did not read the blurb. I do think that it’s an oddity in a low budget that’s trying to also be an epic and create a world that shows us only a very small, intimate slice of that world. Basically, I appreciate that you enjoyed the lo-fi quality of it.
Though Jackman struggled to find backers at first, 100 Nights eventually nabbed talent like Charli XCX.
Was there anything specific that wasn’t maybe as much of a thing in the source material that you wanted to beef up or introduce in this?
Most of the main storyline was beefed up because the amazing graphic novel was very anthological. Cherry and Hero are a couple, a secret couple, and they’re fairly fixed. They are who they are throughout. And Manfred is this beard-y, sort of slobbering, disgusting villain. And that worked so brilliantly in the graphic novel, but I felt that there needed to be a main arc in this trio.
I didn’t want to change the heart of [Hero and Cherry’s] relationship, which is a wonderful love story — but I wanted to start them in that coming-of-age queer canon event where you have never been taught to be in touch with your desires and you’re like, “I’m completely straight. It’s just that my best friend, she’s so beautiful and she’s so funny and she’s amazing. And I just love everything that she says and I want to be around her all the time.” That’s where I hope that they would start, where to me they were still in love, but... Real people in a world that repressed would just not be with it enough to have fully become a secret couple when we meet them. Where would they go from there?
100 Nights diverged from the source material to make Manfred a more subversive, seductive villain.
With Manfred, it was sort of, “What does a villain look like now?” Things had changed [from] when I first read the graphic novel. Those are some pretty crucial years from 2016, 2017 to now. And I was sort of looking more at the vibe of the only man in the Women’s Studies class…
The soft boy.
The incredibly charming soft boy, who is like, “I’m different because I still do the same sh*t as all the other guys, but I feel bad about it. And I have lots of reasons. I will tell you all my reasons and you’ll feel really sorry for me.” I really wanted a Manfred in a film where you felt like he could win. If he was just a clear, disgusting creep — that tension, again, worked brilliantly in the graphic novel, but wouldn’t have worked for me on screen. You want him to be like, “Oh, sh*t.” When he was like, “I’m going to seduce your wife…”
Totally. You’re scared.
Yeah, exactly. I wanted that feeling of a slightly more realistic kind of villain, which is usually… they’re not all bad. They just choose their own comfort in the end. And it doesn’t mean that they’re not at all altered. It doesn’t mean that they don’t have any conscience. It’s just at the end of the day, they’re disappointing, which is kind of like a villain I think we see much more often. For me, that felt like a more current and new... I mean, it’s a tale as old as time, but a new type of villain on screen rather than a pantomime one.
Jackman calls 100 Nights a love-it-or-hate-it film: “It’s silly, it’s camp, it’s absurd, and it’s sincere, which is not in fashion.”
I don’t think anyone really plans to tell a timely or prescient genre story, but it’s funny how these things come back around. We talked about the novel coming out in 2016. And in the 10 years since, it feels like we’re actually a lot closer to that puritanical medieval hellscape.
I wasn’t expecting it to be more prescient. I was worried it would no longer be relevant. And it was a bit sad to be like, “Oh, this feels relevant.”
I know. People are more illiterate than ever. And you’re giving us a story where reading and writing are outlawed…
And books are being banned and stuff, and you’re like, “Ah, okay.”
And women’s rights are dwindling…
And fertility incentives that are really sort of sketchy…
“This is always going to be the type of film that some people will just hate.”
Yeah. How do you feel about those parallels? This film is kind of coming at a time where it’ll hopefully resonate with people.
I hope it will. Tthere’s a real silliness to it as well, but I think that sometimes the most harrowing times, some of the people who do the most damage in the world are absurd and you almost sit back and you’re like, “How?” It’s a classic thing that while you’re busy laughing at someone, they’ve decimated the [world].
This is always going to be the type of film that some people will just hate. It’s not particularly tasteful. It’s silly, it’s camp, it’s absurd, and it’s sincere, which is not in fashion. But hopefully there’ll be some folks who are ready to get on board with what it is. I do think that whether the film is your style or not, I hope that what will resonate with everyone is to hold on to the stuff you want to say. Talk to each other, decide what’s important to you, and don’t let people tell you that it’s not important or that you shouldn’t be talking about it, that you should be keeping it under wraps. No one wants to listen to you. No one wants to hear you. Hopefully, even for people where it’s not their bag, that will resonate.
