Many people warrant our admiration, especially those who put the centre of their careers, or even their entire lives, to serving others in one way or another. We all celebrate our first responders and those people who spend their time in the service of the community. However, there is a silent majority that remains almost entirely obscure, and many of us only know of their existence through having some degree of familiarity with the more bleak aspects of life. If anyone in the modern film industry knows the value of first responders, as well as those that work closely with them, it’s Steve Buscemi, whose work as a firefighter earlier in his career has been a factor behind a lot of the admiration many feel towards him outside of his work as an actor, as he is one of the rare examples of a notable entertainment figure who has made a significant difference outside of his field. It seems like he was the perfect person to bring The Listener to life, since this was a film about someone who has decided to take on a position where her entire purpose is to help those who need it. Based on a screenplay by Alessandro Camon, the film follows a young woman who volunteers for a suicide helpline, using the pseudonym “Beth” to converse with many different people, each one requiring different levels of help. Whether it be a lonely individual just looking for a kind voice to speak to, or someone on the verge of ending their own life, Beth makes herself available, acting as nothing more than a supportive voice with whom anyone can have a conversation. Her intentions are to help them – but what happens when these phone calls gradually become more intense? The psychological toll such volunteers face serve as the foundation for this film, which is very much focused on exploring the mental state of someone who has chosen this career path, only to realize that there is a darker side to helping people, especially when those on the other side of the call begin to play perverse games, taking advantage of the listener’s empathy, transforming the relationship into something entirely different.

At a cursory glance, The Listener seems extremely simple, and one wouldn’t necessarily consider it much of a directorial achievement, at least not in the traditional sense. The entire film takes place in a single location, and there is only one character that appears on screen – it’s a technique that we’ve seen many times before, with varying degrees of success, based on how a director can utilize the limited space to tell a story (and its even more impressive when these are not works adapted from the stage, since those normally tend to use the excuse of the one-location setting far too often for it to be artistically resonant), and while it is certainly an approach that is far more indicative of strong writing and acting, Buscemi’s direction is surprisingly compelling. He has stepped behind the camera on a few occasions, so he’s certainly not a neophyte when it comes to the process of directing a film, yet what he is doing here feels like he is reannouncing himself as someone with a clear and concise directorial vision. Some may argue that the really impressive work comes on behalf of Camon, who had the task of writing what was essentially a series of dialogues that increase in intensity as the film progresses, but it was Buscemi who took this raw script and transformed it into a dynamic and compelling character study, one that is far more than just a stage-like series of discussions. It may be difficult to spot the little flourishes that define the film from a distance, and it takes a short while to even fully comprehend the scope of what he had to do as the director – but there is an impressive level of complexity in how Buscemi executes this film and makes The Listener such a powerful and disquieting voyage into the human mind, which only proves that effective direction doesn’t always entail elaborate sequences, but that they can be simple and intimate, while having a simmering intensity that may never erupt in the way we’d expect, but still has powerful emotional crescendos that prove the director’s mettle when it comes to telling such risky stories.

The lead role in The Listener is not one that you’d expect many actors would envy, despite it being quite a significant part. This is a film in which the lead is the only character in the entire film, and essentially have to be on screen for the entire duration of the film – and while this has been attempted on several occasions, it doesn’t always yield the most compelling results, since audiences often grow weary of the repetitiveness of seeing only a single character, which is rarely a testament to the actor’s talents, but rather the film’s dependency on their performance, which can sometimes be an unfair burden. Tessa Thompson, therefore, had quite a challenge ahead of her – and she covertly turns in not only her best performance to date, which is something that seems to have been a long time coming. She has done some solid work, but it took a while for her to get a role that fully encapsulated her talents – and few could ever hope for a better showcase than this film. Set over the course of one night, we follow Thompson’s character as she navigates the feeling of isolation, both those felt by the people on the other side of the phone, as well as her own crippling sadness that only begins to manifest as we learn more about her. This is a mammoth task for any actor, and while Thompson is certainly not a greenhorn, having been a working actor for over a decade now, it still feels like she is making a case for a re-emergence as one of our most promising young actors. It helps considerably that there is very little that she can hide behind in The Listener – the film focuses solely on her character, and there is nothing to distract us from her performance, which is as raw and unfurnished in a way that many actors may have found hopelessly intimidating. It’s a masterful performance that ebbs and flows, consisting of subtle details that we don’t notice at first, but which are tenderly placed in the film by Thompson, who takes her time in developing this character and making her so intriguing, while also defining her as a fully-dimensional, well-formed individual with unique traits that far exceed any expectations we had for such a simple premise.

The Listener is a film that is driven by its atmosphere more than anything else, which is reflected in the conversations conducted between the protagonist and the people with whom she speaks over the course of this one night. There’s a loneliness that pervades this film and keeps us engaged, and helps the film take stock of its emotions, as well as the growing sense of unease that becomes so vital to the development of the story. Through around half a dozen conversations with strangers, the protagonist begins to reveal herself to the audience, her own past becoming clearer, allowing us to learn of her origins (some of which are quite surprising, but which help shade in the various nuances of this character with whom we form a very strong connection), which are just as bleak as those of the people whom she has dedicated her life to helping. This is not simply a series of conversations that aim to highlight the enormous rate of suicide and mental health issues in America, but a deeply complex character study about someone committed to helping those who need it, while hiding the fact that she herself is teetering dangerously close to the edge of a breakdown. In this regard, we find Buscemi’s direction being at its most compassionate – he may be dependent on Thompson’s performance of the script (which is immense all on its own), but how he frames her, capturing every wayward expression and deeply compelling emotion reflected on her face and in her movements, is masterful – it is often not even a matter of what is being said, but the manner in which it is executed, which makes a profound difference, especially in a film that is so insistent on the most intimate details of the human condition. The quietest moments often resonate the most, and we watch her slowly begin to question her own identity while holding onto whatever fragments of advice she can give to these people who came to her for help, not realizing that this supportive voice guiding them towards psychological sanctuary is someone undergoing her own crises of identity – sometimes those who know what we have been through are the ones that give the most impactful advice.

There’s a belief that the best people to tell your problems to are strangers, since there is often a complete lack of real judgment when discussing one’s issues with someone who doesn’t know you at all. It’s a peculiar thought and one that is obviously layered in sentimental and overwrought emotions around the supposed kindness of strangers, which we know is not always the most reliable concept. However, it is fundamental to The Listener in several ways, particularly in how this is a very complex film about the simple matter of human kindness, an increasingly rare commodity in a culture that is growing more disillusioned with itself, and how a single telephone conversation can change the course of one’s entire life, whether for better or worse. Buscemi is as compelling and well-equipped as a director as he is an actor, someone who understands every detail of the human condition and has the depth of knowledge and undeniable empathy to craft something that looks deeply at some of the more intimidating issues that surround the culture, as well as the people represented by it. He has made a charming and very compelling film with a lot of deeply important ideas, each one a masterful account of the unheralded art of conversation. Anchored by a towering performance by Thompson, who works closely with Buscemi in the interpretation of the exceptional script (with credit also being due to the various actors who lend their talents to voicing the characters on the other side of the telephone – we don’t see them, but they manage to construct these people and provide their entire history through just the use of their voices), The Listener is an extraordinary film, an intricately-woven and very compelling existential drama that expands on many vital concepts, going in pursuit of a range of themes, and emerging nothing short of brilliant when it comes to tackling some of the broader and more intimidating problems found in modern society.