The Listener

The Listener, from director Steve Buscemi, is an unusual film in the sense that it has only one onscreen character, a woman calling herself “Beth” who works for an unnamed company, where various, and random, people in states of crisis call her blind to talk about their many problems. Some of them seek help, some of them simply want an outlet, or even a punching bag. Beth provides all this, quietly allowing them to rant, rave, to speak and offering comment only occasionally. Her only companion through this, which takes place during the night and early morning hours, is her dog, which she feeds early in the film in her one physical interaction with another being.

Tessa Thompson, who plays Beth, does not need to perform histrionics, as the role neither asks nor demands it. She acts with dignity and grace, a serenity, that is both unnerving and reassuring. Her face is at times inscrutable, allowing us to project our thoughts and feelings onto her, which engages our sense of wonder about what is happening inside her, or might happen to her. This is particularly true as we get glimpses, in dialogue with her callers, that she is in a transition period, and will not be doing this again, at least for a while.

Courtesy Vertical Entertainment

Director Buscemi films much of the work in closeup, either of Beth’s face or her hands, writing, drawing and…making notes? Doodling out of boredom? Buscemi and the script wisely give few concrete answers, at least early on. Who is Beth and why does she do this? Does it matter? Did something happen to make her want to stop, even for a while? As we progress through her night, we see how very good she is at her job, and why such work might become wearisome.

Beth’s callers range from runaway teens and newly paroled prisoners, to suicidal ex-professors and women hating computer programmers. Through it all, she hears what they say and tries to support them, to encourage them, and to be there for them. It is no coincidence the film references Covid-19, as the film was shot in 2021 and began the film festival circuit in 2022. As a result, the film seems to have more than a little to say about disconnection, loneliness, despair, isolation, connection, need, desire and hope. How it achieves this is through dialogue and carefully modulated angles, which place Beth at a distance from her callers and even from the space in which she physically occupies.

Courtesy Vertical Entertainment

Most of the space in the film, however, is internal. It is emotional and consists of the conversations between Beth and her clients. We feel the passage of time, and while she is sometimes hard to figure out, it is not impossible. There is a sense we do not know the whole story with Beth, and that is fine. What we get allows us to understand her, at least a bit better, and perhaps that is the point of the film. That knowing and understanding are two different things, and that connecting and being seen are very important. There is a sense of detachment, at times, but is it professional or something else? Is it a comment on society, or maybe, more specifically, life during and after Covid-19? The film may keep you thinking long after you are finished watching it.