Lilly Wachowski

Sam: Let’s start with films.
Lilly: Since that’s easy!
What are you watching these days?
Um, I get the industry screeners. So I’ve been digging through those. It’s not too great. I was surprised by how much I liked ‘Wicked’.
It’s really effective. It’s almost like fan fiction.
Yeah! It is.
The first film you directed, ‘Bound’, is a supreme erotic thriller. The two main characters are so liberated through their sex life with one another. What motivated you to explore lesbian eroticism in the mid-90s?
I have a funny relationship with my and Lana’s art. All of our films come from a very closeted point of view. I can see that I’m working stuff out almost at an unconscious level. In the first shot of ‘Bound’, the main character, Corky, is literally tied up in the closet and she has to break out. It’s very similar to ‘The Matrix’ in the way that it’s about liberation. And you know, I think this has a lot to do with Lana’s and my queerness and transness. Us trying – struggling – to make something that was true about ourselves.
You describe it as unconscious, but I’m sure – because you were also trying to get ‘Bound’ made – you had to communicate your narrative choices to industry people.
Well, I mean, we had a funny self-education. We’re both college dropouts. We both taught ourselves how to do carpentry. While doing side jobs, we were basically reading and watching as much as we could. We had sold one previous script to Dino De Laurentiis, this old-school Italian-producer-patriarch guy – an amazing character. And he was, like, ‘Okay, what are you doing next?’ We were kind of disillusioned with the process, we wanted make our own thing. We didn’t know how this guy would respond to the idea of two lesbians ripping off the mob. So we hemmed and hawed, like, ‘There’s this one woman and she’s with this guy who’s in the mob, and then there’s this other woman and they sort of become lovers…’ And Dino was, like, ‘This first woman…she’s lesbian?’ And we were, like, ‘Well, yeah…’ And then he asked, ‘And the second woman, she’s also lesbian?’ And we were, like, ‘Well, yeah…’ And then he was, like, ‘We have a deal!’
Wow.
Dino was notorious for being ultra-low budget. But he didn’t know that we were interested in making it authentically queer. So when Dino saw the first scene we shot, the lesbian bar scene, he was furious, like, ‘This is not a lesbian bar!’ He had this male perspective of a lesbian bar – which was Penthouse Forum or whatever.
Right.
We eventually shot something action-y, and he was, like, ‘This looks good, but you have to reshoot the lesbian bar.’ We said, ‘These are real lesbians from San Francisco!’ And he was, like, ‘Dah!’
What was the response at the time?
Back then, it was an extremely titillating idea, especially from a cis-male-gaze point of view.
How were you engaging with that gaze as filmmakers?
From this extremely queer, but extremely closeted, point of view. We were not just empathetic, but we also had these little queers inside of us that wanted to get out. We wanted to make something that felt real.
‘Bound’ is a kinky title, and an even kinkier premise in a way.
The type of film noir that we were watching at the time was very kinky and very sexual, and there’s always something bubbling underneath it. The idea of bondage certainly was something that we were both interested in, but siloed off from each other.
Right.
Lana and I would go to this really good independent bookstore in Chicago called Women & Children First, and we’d peruse the lesbian erotic section. That’s where we did our research. There was this really hilarious moment when we were there, both wearing our Chicago Bulls gear and this gay guy went, ‘I really like what you two have going here.’

Like he was shipping you and Lana?
Yeah. And it was this funny, unsettling moment – he was seeing something about us, but not really the thing. In a way it felt like I was in drag. Being seen, but not exactly being seen. And it made me extremely nervous.
It’s a common experience for many of us – the world tells us who we are before we come to terms with it ourselves.
Yeah.
I don’t know if I told you this the first time we met, but I threw up the first time I tried to watch ‘The Matrix’… (laughs) And then I couldn’t finish it.
Oh.
There’s this lore around Switch from ‘The Matrix’, that in earlier drafts the character was able to switch genders between the Matrix and reality.
Yes. That’s a real draft that exists.
I’m curious what went into the decision to delete that idea. Was it coming from you? From studio executives?
Switch’s digital self was a different gender. We explained, ‘Their name is Switch. They’re a man in the real world, and in the Matrix, they’re a woman.’ And these high-level execs were, like, ‘We don’t get it.’ It just added this extra level of confusion.
Right. Because that’s the most complex idea in the film. (laughs)
They were completely baffled by the entirety of it. It really took us a long time to get them to agree to make it. Years of us explaining the movie to them. We drew the entire movie so that me and Lana could sit on either side of the President of Warner Bros., flipping through the storyboards, doing sound effects in stereo.
Wow.
Thankfully, we got to a point where we were, like, ‘We got the most unbelievable actor to agree to be in this. Like, the only actor.’ Keanu Reeves. It still blows me away that we got there. Finally they said, ‘Well, you have to cut Switch if we’re gonna make it.’
So it was kind of an ultimatum?
Yeah. It’s funny that trans folks have found it anyway. We didn’t have to have Switch changing gender. They did it themselves.

There’s a Berghain tattoo in ‘The Matrix Resurrections’, which I know is Lana’s project. Directorially.
That’s correct.
Throughout the franchise, there are these scenes that are steeped in nightlife. Can you talk about your relationship to that world?
Lana is the serious nightclub person and found Berghain when we got to Berlin eventually.
When was that?
Our first foray into Berlin was in the 2000s for ‘V For Vendetta’. I’ve actually never been to Berghain.
Oh?
I’ve filmed in the industrial area right next to Berghain. And you could hear the party going while we were shooting. But I’ve never been inside. Whenever we’d shoot those nightclub scenes, I could feel a profound connection to the community that was showing up. But it’s not like I’ve really spent a lot of time there. I…I like quiet bars.
You’re a quiet bar girl.
Yes. Not much of a clubber.
You and Lana are kind of like foils to each other or something?
Yeah yeah.
Interesting. I mean, I’m curious what your social life was like back then?
Well, my exploration into my transness was extremely isolated. I didn’t really have an outward experience around it. Production was always so debilitating that I’d finish a production and collapse, and probably drink heavily. I think that’s a product of me being so deeply closeted. During ‘The Matrix’ films, I started exhibiting all sorts of different phobias, like a fear of flying. I think this was linked to my paralyzing fear that I wasn’t gonna get a chance to live my life.
Thank you for sharing that. I relate to it deeply. Your films have this very dark sensuality to them – where does that come from?
I don’t know. I always have skulls on. I’m always dressed in black. My entire life, I’ve always been peering over the edge of the abyss. Sometimes my legs are dangling off of it. I look back and see young versions of myself. I guess there’s something wrapped up in that idea of being conscious of my humanity, my mortality. The conscious decision of accepting it, embracing it. I got a couple of piercings during ‘The Matrix’ films. The first time you get a piercing there’s this shot of adrenaline, this pain element. I was trying to be as present as possible for that shot of pain.
It turned you on?
It turned me on, but there was something that was deeper about it that opened my mind. The piercing was just a badge, right? And then it became this other thing.
I think a lot of queer people have specific relationships to pain and pleasure.
(nods knowingly, sips water)
We talked about how your transition was something you were storing for so long. What made you say, ‘Okay. It’s time for me to manifest this idea I have about myself’?
It’s hard to locate a tipping point. I like to think of my life as mosaic. Film itself is collage. They’re literally teeny tiny photographs that you’re splicing together. You know? There’s little pings here and there as I’m on my path of transness. During production, before I’d go to bed I’d look at pictures of myself in makeup and dressed in these outfits. My wife at the time would find me asleep with these pictures of myself on an iPad. And, she could see plain as day that I was dreaming of this. She was, like, ‘You are transitioning.’ And I was, like, ‘What’re you talking about? No I’m not.’ Then, you know, my 20-year relationship crumbled. And it was a very gentle crumbling. We threw our script out and said we’re not going to do this the way we’ve been told we have to.
What was it like coming out as a public figure?
I knew it was gonna happen at some point. I had watched how the paparazzi hounded Lana and really dragged her in this super unpleasant way. And even within our community to some extent people were adding grist for the rumor mill. I knew there was gonna be a point when I’d need to write my coming out “thing”. My essay.
My composition.
Right. Your State of the Union.
That’s right. And it started like: ‘Sex Change Shocker! Wachowski Brothers Now Sisters!’ It’s the headline that I’d imagined for so many years. Then it happened. I was getting ready to go out and heard the doorbell ring. I looked out the window and saw this head walking right out there. (points) Then they came back and rang the bell again. I opened the door and it was this…person… And he said, ‘My name is so-and-so.’ He gave me his card. ‘I’m from the Daily Mail. We’d like you to tell us your story.’
Oh god.
I was, like, ‘I’m about to go out to dinner. I can’t do any of this right now.’ And he said, ‘Just give me a call. This story is gonna come out one way or another.’
Jeez.
I looked at the card and was, like, ‘The Daily Mail… That rings a bell.’ I had just read this horrible thing online about this woman in the UK, Lucy Meadows, a teacher who came out over the course of the summer and came back to teach. The Daily Mail picked up the story and completely dragged her. You know, the outrage: ‘But what about the children?!’ She ended up killing herself. I got back to my computer and finished my announcement or whatever it was. Before the Daily Mail could publish anything, I published it in the local gay newspaper – Windy City Times. It became the most linked-to story in the history of Windy City Times as a publication. Which was kinda cool.

Wow! What was your private life like at the time? Did you start dating again?
I dated a little bit after I transitioned and then I ended up meeting my current boyfriend, Mickey. My sister-in-law, Lana’s wife, had been on some boards with him and she was, like, ‘I’m gonna give your phone numbers to each other. You both like movies and beer!’ I felt like I could’ve dated anybody at that moment, I felt like an omnivore – pansexual in a way. There was something special because Mickey is trans. In my early dating foray after transitioning, I was with women and I was even more dysphoric in my body than I had been when I was with my wife. I was playing a role almost. I could see and feel the difference in my body next to theirs, and it made me… I had issues with that. Being with Mickey, I felt like we were on a similar ship in a way. Instead of two ships passing in different directions, we were kinda…
Parallel?
Yeah.
Do you remember what you talked about on your first date?
We weren’t necessarily “dating” at first, just hanging out. He was coming out of this period of being solo for a while. At that moment, he was, like, ‘I just date men.’ And I was, like, ‘That’s cool. Good for you.’ So there was that between us at first. It was more getting to know each other, and some flirtation.
Some courtship.
Yeah. Then he later went, ‘You know what? Forget that thing I said.’ And the passion started brewing.
Before this interview, my friend Luca was, like, ‘God. I think transfemme and transmasc relationships are so beautiful and I just wanna hear Lilly talk about that.’
I think they are. If I’d get a stick and poke tattoo right now, I might get a T4T tattoo.
You’re a T4T girl?
Yeah. There’s so much shared experience that you’re able to cut through a lot of dialogue that’s just exposition that doesn’t need to be there. That part feels so refreshing.
As a younger queer, I’m curious to know what’s your relationship with my generation?
I think that idea of there being a barrier between generations is illusory. Like, we get obsessed with age and “this generation, that generation”. So much so that it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. When I went back to school to study painting, I was in my late forties, 20-plus years older than some of the students. But there was something that was just wonderful. I loved how they took great steps to articulate everything – gender, pronouns, nonbinary-ness and inclusivity and the intent behind all of that.

Cool. Good answer. Next page.
Check!
Check! Let’s do a few rapid-fire questions. What’s with the ducks I’m seeing all over your house?
The duck became this thing in my painting practice. I could put the duck in all of these horrible scenarios. Creating this contrast of this happy duckling against lakes of blood and skies of ash. And it became a way for me to express self-portraiture.
Are you a Satanist?
I don’t practice, but I like the idea.
Any personal rituals that you have?
Not really. Skincare, I guess.
What gets you out of bed?
My bladder. Nowadays. It’s my bladder that gets me out of bed.
What gets you into bed?
Bed is just…it’s the best place to be.
What do you drive?
I drive a Kia Soul.
What do you like about it?
It has a lot of headroom – I’m a tall drink of water. And it’s easy to park.
Why Chicago?
There’s just something Dracula-y about it. I must return to the soil of my birthplace. But I also see something about Chicago that’s a part of my own becoming. You know, growing up almost on the edge of the city, Southside Irish, an aggressively white neighborhood. So for Lana and I to exit that white enclave and cross the entire Southside, to go to high school downtown, to see the disparity – there was an awakening. There is a “Matrix quality” to that life experience, like, ‘Actually, the world is a lot different than you think it is in this bubble.’ Even though it’s extremely problematic the way that Chicago is systematically divided, I can also appreciate it for containing multitudes.
What’s your relationship to the queer scene in Chicago?
I have this innate sense that our connectivity is the thing that’s going to save us. And so in my old age, I’m practicing flexibility in that connectivity – I’m trying to be as connected as I can be. I’ve lived in this neighborhood for 20 years. It’s a queer neighborhood and surprisingly super trans. It’s like a trans village. And with this incoming administration, everybody is asking questions about, ‘What am I gonna do? Am I gonna move? Do I move out of the country?’ You know, I feel a lot safer here than I do constantly on the run from fascism. I’d rather fight fascism insulated by all of these queer bodies as a cohesive group than run somewhere else.
Do you like being approached?
I don’t mind it. I’ve gotten used to it.
I’m sure there are different strategies.
Sometimes it’s different to be approached by somebody who’s just a fan than, like, somebody who’s queer or a trans person.
Frequently they’re both. Okay – sexiest places to go in Chicago?
The thing that I really enjoyed, especially before the pandemic hit, was going to rock concerts. There are these good pictures of me going to Riot Fest to see Peaches. I’m wearing one of her shirts that says, “WHOSE JIZZ IS THIS?” But it was physically hard to get out of Riot Fest because there was so much traffic. No one could get a car. I ended up getting on a bus and all these people were looking at me in this giant WHOSE JIZZ IS THIS? t-shirt. (laughs) So yeah, I think the music scene is the sexiest.
Going to your activism for a moment, would you say there’s a relationship between film and activism?
I’m of the mindset that all art is political. Even, you know, apolitical art is taking a stance.
Of course.
What’s hard is – when you talk about the struggle for controlling information. Me and Lana wrote ‘The Matrix’, which is so clearly about oppression on so many different levels. It’s about control and liberation and, like, literally, the white guys are the baddies. And Black people and other freedom fighters are all part of this outside collective.
Yeah.
And it’s, like, for somebody to take that movie and twist it into the opposite of what it is…
Wait, is that happening?
Well, just like Elon Musk talking about “taking the red pill”.
Right. Elon Musk references taking the red pill from ‘The Matrix’ as an analogy for coming back to reality and joining the conservative movement.
Yeah. Like, woke-ness is the Matrix.
And his idea of woke-ness is the Grand Old Party?
He’s saying don’t follow the Matrix and all these, you know, “woke-inati”.

So he understands the structure of the movie? Maybe not.
I don’t know if he does. We’re not clear on that.
We’re not clear. What are you thinking about in terms of how trans people are portrayed in film and media?
There’s just not enough. This past September GLAAD published their queer casting index, and it shows some horrible statistic that in all of the movies released in the last year there are only two trans characters. Two. It’s really a weird time right now. There’s this extremely organized right-wing propaganda machine that’s able to skew critics and reviews toward movies they are targeting, and review bomb these films. A show like ‘The Acolyte’ comes out – a ‘Star Wars’ show that has Black and Brown people at the center and there’s a trans character – and it gets pulverized in social media by these trolls. Disney ends up capitulating and canceling it. To me, it’s complicity. Because ‘Star Wars’ can release whatever the fuck they want. They’re ‘Star Wars’! They could make the queerest shit of all time, and go, ‘We’re ‘Star Wars’. Fuck you.’ You know? But they don’t do that. They’re acting in concert with the propaganda and the people behind the propaganda – these billionaires who own all of these mega corporations.
You are the Executive Director of Anarchists United Foundation, which “seeks to disrupt traditional production models in media by foregrounding artists over corporations”. Are you an anarchist, Lilly Wachowski?
There’s something I like in the idea of a leaderless movement or decentralized movement. I think cult of personality is not a good thing. And so in that way, I consider myself an anarchist.
How are you preparing for a second Trump presidency?
I think a big component of collective power will need to focus on harm reduction and saving people’s lives. For trans people, the hard stuff is going to be medical care. My realistic stance is that the United States v. Skrmetti case being considered by the Supreme Court is not gonna go our way. There’ll be a rash of trans bans for young people, which will open the door for banning all gender affirming healthcare. That’s already happening in the military. We’ll need to have mutual aid working to save people’s lives.
Totally. Are you a spiritual person?
I’m not so spiritual. I see the connectivity of all of the little pieces that make us who we are. And the commonalities. I like to continue to zoom in until all of those things that keep us separated are reduced to their tiniest matter. I see that interconnectivity. I see all of the things that have made me who I am. And when I am gone, my atoms will turn into something else. So, spiritual in the idea of the “atomic-ness” of our being.
Sounds perfectly spiritual. Do you believe in the supernatural?
Not in the classic sense. But I interact with the world with a sense of imagination. And to not engage with the world like that, I just cannot understand it. The idea that somebody can look at a trans person and go, ‘You’re not trans!’ is a case of somebody with an impoverished imagination. How can there not be an in-between of gender? It’s like saying that there is no number between 1 and 2. There’s an infinite.
What feels taboo to you?
I’m not sure. Taboo-ness feels like such a product of its time. Like, what’s taboo? As a trans woman, pornography and transness is a perversion that we’re allowed to talk about. For me, growing up, where was I gonna see trans women except for in pornography? Pornography was such a key element in my becoming. It’s like, you cannot see what you cannot be. Right? But you’re not supposed to say that as a trans person because it’s actually what they’re using to weaponize against us. The narrative of, ‘Oh, you’re a pervert.’ You know? This proves it.
So watching trans women in porn…
…made me a trans woman.
So you’re proving their point.
Exactly. Like, that’s taboo. I’m not supposed to say that.
Any final remarks?
Final remarks. Hmm. What do you put in a BUTT interview?
All of what you’ve said so far, for one.
I don’t know. Keep flossing?
Perfect tagline.
Keep flossing, everybody! Keep flossing!