‘The Listeners’ Review: Rebecca Hall Is Riveting In Janicza Bravo’s Excellent Adaptation
When discussing the story of “The Listeners,” both the novel by Jordan Tannahill and now the BBC Studios series from Janicza Bravo, the emphasis must be placed on the emotional rather than the literal. Yes, the premise centers on a woman who begins hearing a humming sound that nobody else can, but it’s also about the way isolation can create the conditions for otherwise ordinary people to become vulnerable to finding answers in dark places. Some completely fall down a rabbit hole of conspiracies, leaving those who loved them wondering what even happened to the person they thought they knew. For all the ways we believe ourselves to be fully rational and incapable of falling prey to this, “The Listeners” calls this into question in unsettling fashion.
These thorny yet critical ideas are expressed through the sharp eye of Bravo who, just as she did in the underrated “Lemon” and the brilliant “Zola,” is able to draw us into the minds and insecurities of people that can soon take a turn for something more unexpectedly disastrous. It’s not on the same level as those works, but it’s still something that decisively sneaks up on you.
The BBC limited series, which premiered Saturday at the Toronto International Film Festival, centers on the teacher Claire. Played by the always astounding Rebecca Hall who has been great in everything from “Resurrection” to “Tales from the Loop” and “The Night House,” she suddenly begins hearing a sound that her husband, daughter, friends, or coworkers can’t. Every doctor that she goes to either seems ill-equipped to adequately respond to what’s happening or, even worse, outright dismiss what’s going on. So she shrinks inwards into herself, deciding to just keep quiet rather than be seen as “crazy” by those around her. That is, until one of her students, Kyle (Ollie West), tells her that he can hear it too. Though Claire is nervous about confiding in a student and wants to maintain professional boundaries, she begins going out on drives with him to try to trace the sound before the duo finds a group of people they believe are just like them.
The series makes some significant alterations to the source material, namely shifting the setting from the U.S. to the UK, which feels like it robs it of some of the specific terrors that the novel tapped into about the state of America’s modern decline. Additionally, it also loses the impact of being locked in on Claire’s unreliable perspective while oddly bringing her family in on some more of what she’s doing. However, what it gains with these changes is that creeping feeling that this is something that can happen everywhere and anywhere, even when someone may have more support than they normally do in these types of situations. It doesn’t matter who you are, what your profession is, or what your preexisting beliefs are if you suddenly start to feel like nobody is listening to something you’re most certain is really happening every second. It’s all a means of exploring the way people can fall off the map when it seems as if they have nowhere to turn. It doesn’t let them off the hook for the harm they cause to themselves and others, instead honestly beginning to establish how everyone can be completely consumed by fear.
Bravo’s approach captures this sinking feeling from the novel while injecting it with visual texture. She not only directs the hell out of the series, bringing plenty of striking shots that instill a quiet sense of something sinister rising up even when we’re not hearing the sound, but she also remains attuned to character in a way that feels deeply, disquietingly alive. One can’t help feeling like we know these fellow listeners that Rebecca meets, making it all the more unnerving when we see the fault lines starting to form as she is brought into the fold.
The way scenes are put together, with what’s left unspoken carrying as much weight as what is said out loud, ensures even the most simple conversation scenes crackles with energy. Much like the hum the characters are certain they’re hearing, there is a deafening dread that Bravo weaves under all these scenes that you can’t shake. You see it in their eyes and via all the closeups along with the moments the series is shot through refractions, like we’re both painfully close yet forever far away. We can see their humanity in all its messiness just as we can feel it beginning to slip away.
At the center of this coming storm is Hall, who is never not in complete and utter command of the character even as Claire is starting to come apart before our eyes. She has a quiet grace as she embodies her desperately trying to cling to just as we can see fear she is having to shoulder alone. It’s a tough thing to pull off, but never do you doubt her for even a second. There is still much ahead for her (only a couple episodes premiered at the festival), but we can already see the descent that she is going down. How she and the series grapples with its deeper ideas is what gives it heft. It’s measured and menacing, like taking a glimpse into a mirror of our world where we see all of the ugly details we’d like to hide away from just before it begins to crack.
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