THE ACCOMPANIST
(The Tribeca Festival is back and celebrates its 25th year! Taking place June 3 – 14 in various screening rooms around NYC, HtN has tons of coverage coming your way like this The Accompanist movie review from Matt Delman! Seen it? Join the conversation with HtN on our Letterboxd Page.)
If someone in your life is going through psychological struggles, you may find The Accompanist relatable and deeply moving. Director Zach Woods is known as a funny guy, but with his debut feature film he proves how incredibly sensitive he is. The screenplay is co-written with his longtime UCB (Upright Citizens Brigade) pal Brandon Gardner, and executive produced by their other UCB pal Aubrey Plaza, who also plays an integral role as a case worker who haphazardly extracts 9 year old Emily from an unsafe living situation. The 9 year old is played by Everly Carganilla (now 12 in real life), who has a very bright career ahead of her. If this isn’t her Hailee Steinfeld / True Grit moment, I hope she gets one soon. Her chemistry with co-star Susan Sarandon–playing a first-time foster mom named Sylvia–is heartwarming.
The Accompanist tackles heavy subjects such as dementia, anorexia, trauma and death, and Woods threads the needle carefully in an attempt to make it all cohere, which it almost does. While he doesn’t appear in the film himself, his directorial vision shines in moments of magical realism. If overstuffing the film with too many ideas is a minor critique, it is greatly outweighed by the fantastic performances that Woods is able to get out of his phenomenal cast.
Emily’s grandfather (Kevyn Morrow) is dealing with dementia. He mistakenly drives onto train tracks and nearly gets them both killed. After Emily is delivered to Sylvia by Sarah (Plaza), she decides to sneak off and hide out in a playground. Sylvia approaches her with a bag of ‘supplies’ and they both end up sleeping in the wood chips until the sun comes up. It takes some time, but eventually Sylvia’s chill approach endears her to Emily. Sylvia is described as witchy, but she also starts heavily hallucinating when Emily triggers memories of her daughter who we learn is no longer with us. Emily is eager to see her grandfather, and there’s a scene between Sylvia and the grandfather at the hospital, featuring Helena Howard in a brief but impactful role, that really nails home the story.
A lot of the drama revolves around Emily running off on her own, unsupervised, which gets a bit repetitive after a while, but the film is never dull. The magical realism elements–which I won’t spoil here–make for the most transcendent moments. And while The Accompanist is mainly a drama, there’s also some hilarious Woodsian dialogue such as when Sarah asks Emily about the ‘type’ of parents she’d want, and she replies someone who ‘smokes’ – a cheeky reference to Sylvia. The same Emily who started off contumacious now doesn’t want to leave. But Sylvia didn’t sign up for a full-on adoption. She’s torn, clearly attached to this wonderful little girl, but afraid of facing the demons of failing another daughter.
There are some fun music choices, as we’re dropped into a roller rink blasting an old school hip hop song (Biggie or Tupac?) with waaay too many f-bombs, meant to signal Emily’s lack of supervision. There is a bit of piano playing, but not as much as the title suggests. Composers Gavin and Yuri Bryars provide a moody medley, and a couple of professional ballet dancers grace the film in flashback scenes, in an attempt to add layers to Sylvia’s daughter’s backstory.
For the most part it works, and Woods’ direction had the Tribeca audience entranced. He was smart to pair Everly (who had appeared in one of his short films) with a legend like Susan Sarandon, in a lead role that’s increasingly rare for women over 60. She is so effortlessly cool, and makes you want to smoke indoors again. ‘Love’ is a strong word, and Sylvia may not believe she has what it takes to be a parent again, but Everly, Sarah and the audience know they are a perfect match. The Accompanist asks its characters to take a giant leap of faith, and that’s what filmmaking is all about.
– Matthew Delman (@ItsTheRealDel)
