Question. Why do we talk out loud when we know we’re alone? Conjecture. Because we know we’re not
It could be with us every second and we would never know. How would you detect it, even sense it, except in those moments when, for no clear reason you choose to speak aloud? What would such a creature want? What would it do? Well? What would you do?
Listen.
There is a moment in ‘Listen’ which asks a pretty fundamental question about the story we are watching, how much of it is real and whether it is actually an exercise in fake scares and mass hysteria, a campfire ghost story or a fake Victorian séance. The moment is when Clara asks the Doctor ‘So is it possible we’ve just saved that kid from another kid in a bedspread?’. And the answer the Doctor gives is still entirely valid by the end of the story – ‘Entirely possible, yes’. It is a clever idea, exploring the nature of nightmares and the fears of childhood, but in way that is left unresolved and almost entirely ambiguous and yes paradoxical. It may be that Clara, the Doctor, Orson and Rupert have just spent the whole story effectively scaring each other. I rather like that. Of course, it is also perfectly possible to view it as a colossal waste of everyone’s time!
In the opening the Doctor muses ‘Evolution perfects survival skills. There are perfect hunters. There is perfect defence. Question. Why is there no such thing as perfect hiding? Answer. How would you know? Logically, if evolution were to perfect a creature whose primary skill were to hide from view, how could you know it existed? It is an interesting and rather scary premise. A silent, invisible companion through your life. It is also I think a slight misunderstanding about how Natural Selection works. It doesn’t perfect – it does just enough. Think more of an evolutionary arms race – just enough to allow you survive long enough to pass on your genes. Specialism generally comes at a price, something else has to be compromised – it is no use being as fast as possible if that physiological adaptation to achieve that means that you can’t reproduce effectively. In the environmentally degraded world we live in, there is rather a tendency for generalists to survive and flourish – they are better adapted to survive environmental change. We see this across orders – for example birds and butterflies with highly adapted, highly specialised lifestyles declining, while adaptable generalists have greatly increased in numbers. Despite that reservation, it is an interesting thought experiment and provides a good central conceit for this story.
The natural history of fear
‘Listen came about in a conversation between me and Brian Minchin about what we can do with sound in Doctor Who? That just set off something in my head. Let’s try and do a story that’s just about what the Doctor thinks about the monster… but in which the monster never actually appears.’ Steven Moffatt goes on to talk about wanting to write a chamber piece in the middle of the series to stretch him as a writer. And that is how it feels, a writer wanting to stretch himself, to keep himself interested and engaged after 4 series as showrunner, something which would be repeated the following season with ‘Heaven Sent’.
Unsurprisingly sound and sound creatures is something that has been explored in audio media ‘Doctor Who’, as early as third Big Finish story – ‘Whispers of Terror’ or later with ‘Static’. From time to time they employ techniques that use audio only stories to the full and plot sleights of hand that rely on a lack of visuals. Here we get some of that, but within the scope of a visual story, so instead we rely on physical barriers to stop us from seeing the ‘menace’ and certain other story elements – the noises outside of the time ship, the ‘creature’ under the blanket on the bed that is then blurred and out of vision, the young Doctor whose face we never see or the simple visual of the Doctor turning away, the chalk dropping to the floor and the word ‘Listen’ appearing on the blackboard.
It is an interesting premise, whilst at the same time it also has the slight feel of a greatest hits package – all the clever or exciting bits in a different blend. Here we also get the spooky children’s home location from ‘The Impossible Astronaut’. We get a journey to the end of time, which we will see again in ‘Hell Bent’. Here though, the ‘hiders’ and the core concept of a childhood nightmare of something under the bed and an unseen creature with perfect camouflage, make this feel more of a piece with Steven Moffat’s other creations based on childhood fears or games – the clockwork men under the bed in ‘The Girl in the Fireplace’, the Weeping Angels (Grandma’s footsteps) or the Silence – who you forget as soon as you can’t see them.
We are never really sure if the hiders here are real or not, just a series of coincidences and spooky set-pieces. In that respect it really is a sister episode to Russell T Davies’ ‘Midnight’ – where we also never see the protagonist – only feel its impact – with Sky’s child-like mirroring everything the Doctor says. Similarly, the sequences in ‘Listen’ set at the end of time, where whatever is outside (if there is anything) is represented solely through noise or the movement of the ship, feel similar to the knocking sequence in ‘Midnight’ with the Doctor and the others stuck inside the bus. ‘Listen’ shares a similar experimental, chamber piece feel to ‘Midnight’ and they appear in both showrunners fourth series – a well-earned personal ‘indulgence’ after the heavy lifting of the major stories and arcs. Where ‘Listen’ is slightly different is that it is far less standalone than ‘Midnight’ and fits into the series 8 arc. The events that play out here will have consequences for ‘Dark Water’/’Death in Heaven’ and beyond.
Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps…
Amongst the philosophical exploration of the nature of childhood fears and whether we are truly ever alone, I always forget that there is a great big wodge of Steven Moffat’s sitcom ‘Coupling’ in ‘Listen’. The date between Clara and Danny is a mixture of funny and utterly cringeworthy. Every wrong word uttered, every ounce of social awkwardness as two people get to know each other and mess it up. Including this classic – again it could come from ‘Coupling’, but in Series 8 things aren’t that simple the following exchange will have a very different resonance by the time we get to ‘Death in Heaven’:
DANNY: I dug twenty three wells.
CLARA: I’m sorry?
DANNY: Twenty three wells. When I was a soldier. Twenty three.
CLARA: Okay. Good. Good wells.
DANNY: Yeah, they were good, actually.
CLARA: I’m not doubting the quality of your wells.
DANNY: Whole villages saved. Actual towns full of people. People I didn’t shoot. People I kept safe.
CLARA: Okay. Point taken. Seriously.
DANNY: So why doesn’t that ever get mentioned?
CLARA: I’m sorry I didn’t mention your twenty three wells.
WAITER: Excuse me?
CLARA: Sorry.
WAITER: Er, water for the table?
CLARA: Don’t you worry. He’ll probably dig for it.
Something under the bed
One thing that generally doesn’t happen in the aftermath of a slightly disastrous date is that a police box materialises in your bedroom and a deranged Glaswegian, time traveller takes you off to try and track down ‘the perfect hider’, the hand on your ankle under the bed. Clara’s day goes from bad to worse and Danny’s isn’t much better. All of which the Doctor is utterly oblivious to, more than that he just doesn’t care (‘you said you had a date. I thought I’d better hide in the bedroom in case you brought him home. Bit early, aren’t you? Did it all go wrong, or is this good by your standards?’)! We know that this isn’t going to end well…
‘Dreams. Accounts of dreams, by different people, all through history. You see, I have a theory. I think everybody, at some point in their lives, has the exact same nightmare. You wake up, or you think you do, and there’s someone in the dark, someone close, or you think there might be.’
‘So, you sit up and turn on the light. And the room looks different at night. It ticks and creaks and breathes. And you tell yourself there’s nobody there, nobody watching, nobody listening, nobody there at all. And you very nearly believe it. You really, really try and then. (hand grabs ankle under bed). There are accounts of that dream throughout human history. Time and time again, the same dream. Now, there is a very obvious question I’m about to ask you. Do you know what it is?‘
The new series has a run of stories in which the Doctor either indulges a companion or his own curiosity by taking his friends to the worst places in the universe they could go at that moment in time. In ‘Father’s Day’ he takes Rose back just in time to see her father die, multiple times, in ‘Dark Water’ he takes Clara to ‘heaven’ to see the recently deceased love of her life, Danny. Here he takes her, albeit almost by accident instead of her own past, to explore her dreams, rather by virtue of an ill-timed mobile call to Danny’s. All just to see if she ever had a dream about someone under the head grabbing her ankle! This plan, via the labyrinthine mind of Steven Moffat is almost as convoluted as the Cybermen in ‘Wheel in Space’ or your average scheme by the Master. Here he connects Clara to the telepathic circuits of the TARDIS and well we end up in Gloucester…
It sets in motion a train of events that will explore Danny’s (actually Rupert’s) childhood and the future of his bloodline and give us a rare peak into the childhood and psyche of the Doctor. There are two main sequences, the first in the children’s home with young Rupert and the second the scenes in the far future with his descendant Colonel Orson Pink. Actually, there is a third – more of that later. They are tied together by childhood fears and the device of a toy soldier – a sort of rosebud from Orson’s past. And by Clara. She and the Doctor inadvertently set in train Danny’s own future as a soldier (an even crueller twist of fate given the events of ‘Dark Water’), while giving him tools to survive his childhood. We end up with an unresolved paradox – Orson, how did he come to exist given Danny’s eventual fate – did the timeline just change or was it just the change of heart from Jenna – deciding to stay on? Was her resolution to have been having Danny’s child?
Those scenes in Danny’s youth are effective and scary. The unknown presence under the blankets. The Doctor veering from helpful to unnecessarily scaring the poor bugger. But Clara is there – Jenna is fantastic in this story I think, it is great to see her compassionate, caring side more and the vulnerability of the date scenes. We get a glimpse at what a less spiky version of this trio might have been like – the tensions are all there, but we also balance that out with the occasional laugh and moments of genuine compassion. The speech that the Doctor gives to young Rupert here will be important later – important for the Doctor himself and his darkest hour:
‘Let me tell you about scared. Your heart is beating so hard, I can feel it through your hands. There’s so much blood and oxygen pumping through your brain, it’s like rocket fuel. Right now, you could run faster and you could fight harder, you could jump higher than ever in your life. And you are so alert, it’s like you can slow down time. What’s wrong with scared? Scared is a superpower. It’s your superpower. There is danger in this room and guess what? It’s you. Do you feel it? Do you think he feels it? Do you think he’s scared? Nah. Loser. Turn your back on him.‘
‘The breath on the back of your neck, like your hair’s standing on end. That means, don’t look round.‘
The End of Time (Again!)
From Danny’s rather lonely childhood, we venture into the far future. A future where his relative Orson Pink, a pioneer time traveller (rather like Hila in ‘Hide’) is trapped at the end of the universe. The sequence here again is effective, the time ship as a haunted house surrogate, the noises and bumps in the night enough to traumatise Orson and later the Doctor. The Doctor is hugely cruel here – bringing Orson back to this and then telling him the lie that it has to re-charge, just for his own curiosity. It is a conscious echo of the First Doctor’s actions in ‘The Daleks’. This thread is tied back to the children’s home through the device of the toy soldier, passed down through the generations. And tied to the next sequence, which provides the reasoning behind the Doctor’s own unquenchable curiosity to find out the truth of the hiders.
My lonely Angel
And so, then to the childhood of another lonely youngster, alone and scared in a barn. The ‘Lonely Angel’ –’Such a lonely little boy. Lonely then and lonelier now. How can you bear it?‘ that Reinette referenced in Moffat’s ‘Girl in the Fireplace’. Clara inadvertently becoming the trigger for his dream of a hand grabbing his ankle and the monsters under the bed – paradoxically the starting point of all of this. She redeems herself though, implanting his own advice to young Rupert in the Doctor at a similar age. This is very clever, whether people like it or not – actually, that is a slightly different question, this can be a clever, neat idea without necessarily liking it or its implications for the motivation of the Doctor or Clara as a plot device. It also ties back brilliantly to ‘Day of the Doctor’ and the day he has to decide to end the Time War – back to ‘Never cruel or cowardly’ and back in the location, where he first faced his own fears. Again, Jenna plays this just beautifully and kudos to Douglas McKinnon – all of this looks fantastic.
‘This is just a dream. But very clever people can hear dreams. So, please, just listen. I know you’re afraid, but being afraid is all right. Because didn’t anybody ever tell you? Fear is a superpower. Fear can make you faster and cleverer and stronger. And one day, you’re going to come back to this barn. And on that day you’re going to be very afraid indeed. But that’s okay. Because if you’re very wise and very strong, fear doesn’t have to make you cruel or cowardly.‘
‘You’re always going to be afraid, even if you learn to hide it. Fear is like a companion. A constant companion, always there. But that’s okay, because fear can bring us together. Fear can bring you home. I’m going to leave you something, just so you’ll always remember, fear makes companions of us all.’
This even thrillingly brings everything back to the first ‘Doctor Who’ story – where the First Doctor tells Barbara that ‘fear makes companions of us all’. It embeds this story within the mythos of the show. What it does for casual viewers, well I’m not entirely sure – I’m not sure that any of it would have made much sense, which I think is OK once a series. In that regard it is curious – not so much a vanity project, but an exercise in keeping the showrunner happy, allowing him to stretch his wings a little and have his own bit of job satisfaction. It is something that the show can afford to do from time to time, but not too often within the constraints of a popular Saturday night family adventure show.
‘Listen’ is a collision of ideas. There are aspects that feed into arcs that stretch multiple series, all mixed up with the mythos of the Doctor and the personal relationships and history of Clara Oswald. In the final analysis, despite all of the emotional arc work, nothing very much actually happens in Listen’ and what does is left ambiguous and open to interpretation. I rather love it though, although strangely I would find it difficult to argue too strenuously against those who don’t.
What’s that in the mirror, or the corner of your eye? What’s that footstep following, but never passing by?
Perhaps they’re all just waiting, perhaps when we’re all dead, out they’ll come a-slithering from underneath the bed.
Did we come to the end of the universe because of a nursery rhyme?
Yep, that’s about the size of it. Sleep well.
A Journal of Impossible Things 