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The
Night Listener
by director/co-writer Patrick Stettner
Genre is a moving target. And what constitutes a specific genre changes
over the years; it’s a living thing, because each of us goes
into a movie theater with notions of what a thriller, or drama, or
mystery film should be and usually this is based on all the other films
we’ve seen. And because we have certain expectations of what
we’re about to experience, the genre must change, because the
real surprise can only come when we see something we didn’t anticipate.
When I was sent Armistead Maupin’s The Night Listener,
I thought it had the potential to be one of those films that could surprise
and yet challenge audiences’ expectations. In my first conversation
with Armistead, he told me he wanted to write a thriller not built around
murder, or larceny, or violence, rather the mystery of the human heart.
And then when he started talking about Alfred Hitchcock’s masterpiece
Vertigo, I knew I had to make the film.
Jimmy Stewart’s character of John Ferguson in the lead role in
Vertigo is similar to our protagonist in The Night Listener.
Gabriel Noone, played by Robin Williams, has a similar kind of obsessive,
somewhat delusional journey trying to affirm what he thinks is real,
but every time he seems to get close he instead finds a different reality
with a new set of questions, until the lines blur between what he perceives
as fact and what is indeed fiction. Among other things, this film is
about the slippery art of storytelling, with dueling storytellers, each
with their own set of rules, each attempting to arrive at an understanding
of who they are while at the same time tackling the ultimate subjectivity
of truth.
When I was writing the script, I wanted to make sure the viewer
could really empathize with Donna’s character (played by Toni
Collette) but I wasn’t sure I really understood her myself. So
much of her character was about her using the phone to get love and
sympathy.
It was the avenue for her to connect with others and I was determined
to get inside her head. So alone one night, in this shack I rented
in the middle of the woods, I called a suicide hotline. I then proceeded
to pretend like I was going to kill myself. It was an awkward experience,
yet the hotline operator couldn’t have been more professional
and caring. I was immediately struck by this jolt of unconditional
love I got from the operator. Here I was, this stranger (albeit a fake
one at that) yet this person on the other line cared, told me I was
good, and that I had true worth. It was a very intimate connection
between two complete strangers. It was so personal and intense that
I quickly became embarrassed, thanked her, told her I was much better
and quickly hung up. It was an invaluable experience not only in regards
to the character and the script, but how fundamental human connections
are more mysterious and unexpected than we realize, how they come in
so many different forms, and how, if we really dig deep, we will never
run out of ideas for films or lose the opportunity to surprise an audience.
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