The Interview: Julie Anne Robinson
The director of 17 television pilots, including "Bridgerton," shares about her creative process, mindset, and what her success is like.
Julie is a director and producer of film and theatre, and one of the most curious, spacious people I know. She spoke with me about her career, obsessions, and, of course, her work as a director of “Bridgerton.” Follow Julie on Instagram. —Steph
Tell us about yourself.
I’m a film and television producer and director with more than 20 years experience working in the UK and the US. That’s mainly what I am.
What is your training as a director?
I was a theatre director for a long time, and that taught me a lot about working with actors. I was quite successful in London, which was unusual for a woman at that time. As a result, I attended a very short but intense directors’ training course through the BBC, and that’s where I learned about working with lenses and cameras. Then I was offered the opportunity to direct “Doctors,” a television show in England for the BBC.
Did you have an “a-ha” moment when you knew you wanted to become a director?
When I was about 15, I choreographed a dance piece with a dance group that I was part of, and I remember just loving listening to people, synthesizing information, and shaping it—it was a real buzz. That was the moment.
It's funny because people think directing is about telling others what to do. In my case, it's about encouraging people to be as creative and open as possible, then synthesizing the information. I’m bringing people together in a really beautiful way. You also have to be unafraid of making decisions, which I enjoy.
There's something about how I experience you—you have so much curiosity, and I think that might be a bit of what you're referring to: encouraging others’ creativity, staying as spacious as possible, but then also holding a vision.
Exactly. That’s it. I think it’s a hard thing to do over a long period of time.
Are there tools or mindsets that you use to stay in a flow and focus at once?
It is that openness that you just described, having a kind of peripheral vision—being very open to everyone and their ideas, wherever they come from.
I could be specific. Recently, a transport coordinator was really inspired by a project and said to me, “I've got an idea. We could put the car on a jack beside this guy's house with wheels off, and then later, when he runs over the lead character, it could be the same car.” I was so psyched that he was emotionally involved enough to share his great idea with me. That's the dream.
What is it about storytelling, in particular, that captures you? You could apply your skills to any number of career fields.
It’s the emotions of the characters that draw me in. Emotions are keyholes that unlock wider truths—the connections that hold everything together, and I’m not sure why I like that; I guess it’s just how I’m wired. I’m also very logical and organized, so it’s about balancing an understanding of emotion with executive function.
I was recently diagnosed with ADHD, which makes a lot of sense when I consider what it’s like to direct. Beyond the heart of the work—the vision and the emotion—there’s this need for momentum and getting things done. It’s like I’m always ticking boxes, ensuring that everything is moving forward, and bringing everyone along at the right pace.
We’ve talked about this, but can you describe how your vision comes into a project?
I bounce all decisions off of keywords in my mind. That's my piece of it, these key words or key feelings. I would say that I’m not religious, but it’s almost like a gift from the universe how the words come to me, and then I can proceed. I’ve got this t-shirt on that says “smoke show”—a colleague gave it to me because “smoke show” was one of our words once. So, I filter every decision on a set through these lenses. (And obviously, at a certain point, we on the team create a vision board and a lookbook to share with the executives on the project. Sometimes there are many layers of executives who have veto in this, and everybody contributes their piece.)
What is it like having your level of success?
Less impactful than you'd think on a personal level. I don’t cope well with being exposed. For example, when "Saturday Night Live" did a sketch on "Bridgerton" with Regé-Jean Page, and Kate McKinnon played me—she did a bang-up job—my phone blew up and I just froze. It was horrible for me, even though it was a small thing. That taught me a lot about how I prefer to stay anonymous.
I was really proud of an article in The Guardian that my mum gave me, about the big impact that “Bridgerton” has had on the British economy. Obviously, I only played a small role in the series as the one who kicked it off, but it's humbling that it has touched so many lives.
If people reach out to me, I always try and help them. You don’t realize what can come from even a tiny gesture. For example, I’m involved with the International Rescue Committee, and I introduced them to Adjoa Andoh, who plays Lady Danbury in “Bridgerton.” The IRC got back in touch a few months ago and said Adjoa has been this incredible ambassador; she’s gone all over the world to visit their camps. I did a tiny thing and the ripple effect was huge.
In terms of representation, I'm really proud to have pushed for more diversity in my casting. For example, the character of Henry Higgins in “Selfie” was written as a part for an upper-class English guy, and we cast John Cho, and he was fantastic. I’m still proud of that.
Switching gears, what are your obsessions?
I have an obsession with the early years of Hollywood. I find fascinating how these outsiders came to LA and just built it. I think it might be rooted in my family history as well—my grandfather, a chemist, worked for Kodak and was tied to Hollywood, but I didn’t know that until I came here myself. He grew up quite poor, on a farm in Illinois, then became a pioneer in film technology and worked with NASA filming the moon landing. I’ve got pictures of him at the Oscars, which, again, I didn’t see until I came here.
I decided to go back and look at what I've been reading recently, including Michael Powell’s autobiography A Life in Movies. Powell began his career in the silent era and directed and produced The Red Shoes, a film that was on my mind when I was directing “Bridgerton.” I’ve also recently read The Star Machine by Jeanine Basinger, about how stars like Cary Grant and Clark Gable were literally built by the Hollywood machine back in the day, and Hollywood: The Oral History, also by Basinger, about the history of this town through voices that often don't get heard: crew working on the set, props, sound-mixers, publicists …
I recently read Peter Bogdanovich’s Who The Hell's In It: Conversations with Hollywood’s Legendary Actors, and Who the Devil Made It: Conversations with Legendary Film Directors—fascinating conversations with directors dating back to the silent era. (I feel a commonality of experience with them, but I am also aware there isn't a woman in the book!)
I just finished Without Lying Down: Frances Marion and the Powerful Women of Early Hollywood by Cari Beauchamp, which is utterly brilliant if you're a nerd like me. Marion was the most highly paid screenwriter and director in Hollywood between 1920 and 1940, and this book takes you through the very beginnings of LA, when it was 46 little towns all joined together by dirt tracks. Marion has been largely written out of Hollywood history, but she was just incredibly powerful in her day. And, finally, I'm about to start Ann Dvorak: Hollywood's Forgotten Rebel by my friend Christina Rice.
What have you learned about transitioning from directing a film back to your personal life?
The transition is the hardest thing for me, saying goodbye to a project, the people, and the environment. For various reasons, this last time was particularly tough. I've considered what I'm asking my body and brain to go through, and I think I've come out of it with a gentleness towards myself. Before I would think, “Ok, I've directed ‘Bridgerton.’ Let's get back to the production company I run … how are we doing with all the shows in development, we've got to do this and this and this.” Whereas now I'm saying, “Be nice to yourself. This is going to take some time.” I used to think it was a sign of weakness that I found these transitions hard, but now I'm like, no, just forgive yourself.
What problems are you trying to solve?
Is there a place for me in this whole process? When I'm directing, I'm part of creating a big machine in service of the script, and the writer, and it’s a very deeply felt service—but I want to find that space where I can exist in it.
What is something you want?
I want my kids to have creative fulfillment in their lives; I want them to have a mission that brings joy to themselves and others. I want a happy family. And I want democracy.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity. (SB)
