Four stars. Rated R, for strong violence and profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.14.16
Characters who defy expectations are
a lot of fun.
Accountants toil in the back
rooms of office obscurity, burdened further by a reputation for blandness: a
pejorative they hardly deserve. The finest accountants are akin to ace
detectives, concocting novel methods of financial wizardry, or uncovering
corporate impropriety.
 |
| Having turned over the results of an analysis that required several months, Dana (Anna Kendrick) is astonished to return to work the next morning, and find that Chris (Ben Affleck) has cross-checked, enhanced and sourced the anomaly in question ... all in a single day. |
Link that profession with the
savant and socially awkward characteristics of Dustin Hoffman’s Rain Man, or Christian Bale’s character
in The Big Short, and the results can
be captivating.
At first blush, Christian Wolff
(Ben Affleck) fits the bill perfectly. We meet him assisting an elderly couple,
Frank and Dolores Rice (Ron Prather and Susan Williams), through their tax
prep, gently “steering” them into answers that formalize a home business with
advantageous deductions. It’s a droll scene, all the more so because of Chris’
stoic, near immobility: his rigid posture, his failure to smile, his reluctance
to meet his clients’ gaze.
We’re familiar with these signs:
Chris is on the spectrum.
He returns home each evening to a
stabilization ritual in the privacy of his bedroom: a bright light,
ear-splittingly loud music, and methodical exercise, all timed to a specific
schedule. Chris’ primary tic: He must finish anything he starts, otherwise he
loses control.
Actually, the situation is more
complicated. During flashbacks to Chris’ childhood — the character played here
by Seth Lee, persuasively distressed — we see a boy in full-blown meltdown,
unable to interact with an environment he finds too chaotic. Younger brother
Brax (Jake Presley) watches helplessly, as their parents argue over treatment.
Mom (Mary Kraft) favors intervention in the nurturing environment of a special
needs school; Dad (Robert C. Treveiler), career military, insists that it’s
more realistic to confront their elder son with a world that’ll never go out of
its way to treat him fairly.
But wait: The situation is even more complicated.
Elsewhere, back in the modern
day, U.S. Treasury Department Crime Enforcement Division head Ray King (J.K.
Simmons), soon to retire, recounts an unlikely tale to recruit Marybeth Medina
(Cynthia Addai-Robinson). King shares a shadowy photo trail of a mysterious
somebody — known only as “The Accountant” — who gets hired, somehow
clandestinely, whenever the world’s most dangerous criminal organizations need their finances vetted.
Somehow, even more improbably, this
“Accountant” survives these encounters, remaining available for the next
summons by, say, the head of a drug cartel.
King wants to know who this
“Accountant” actually is, before he retires. Medina reluctantly accepts the
assignment.
We’ve already witnessed what King
has yet to verify: Improbably, even impossibly, Christian Wolff is said individual. He gets his
“commissions” via phone, from an unseen voice (female?) that also keeps careful
surveillance on his movements, and those of anybody currently within his orbit.
It’s clear that screenwriter Bill
Dubuque is an avowed genre fan, because his beguiling narrative blends the best
parts of television’s Person of Interest,
1975’s Three Days of the Condor and crime
thriller author Lawrence Block’s ongoing stories and novels about Keller
(unassuming nice-guy stamp collector by day, dispassionate assassin by night
... who gets each “mission” by phone, from a handler known only as Dot).
Chris’ handler, having gotten
wind of King’s investigation, suggests the safety of a legitimate assignment
from a reputable client. Lamar Black (John Lithgow), the genius founder of
Living Robotics, a state-of-the-art tech company making its mark with
“neuro-prosthetics,” wishes verification of a potential discrepancy of millions
of dollars: a hiccup discovered by low-level accounting clerk Dana Cummings
(Anna Kendrick).
Seems ordinary enough.
Chris’ introduction to Dana is
droll, Affleck’s mild but somehow intense passivity a striking contrast to
Kendrick’s bouncy, quick-to-smile charm. It’s a delightful meet-cute moment,
perfectly calibrated by director Gavin O’Connor: plenty of mild chuckles, as
Dana registers, processes and then attempts to navigate Chris’ chill behavior.
She senses that he isn’t
unfriendly; indeed, he occasionally rewards her with a flickering smile. Still
... something.
By this point, we’re well and
truly captivated. And when the situation at Living Robotics proves treacherous
— which comes as no surprise, given Dubuque’s set-up — Anna quickly learns even
more about her new colleague.
O’Connor knows his way around
complex thrillers, having directed the pilot episode of TV’s The Americans (and produced many more). He
deftly handles the cross-cutting in Dubuque’s script, each flashback revealing
a little bit more about Chris, and the unusual adolescence that brought him to
this moment. O’Connor and editor Richard Pearson also pace the film well,
granting us time to grow comfortable with various character dynamics, and then
startling us with an unexpected action sequence.
Such intense moments
notwithstanding, Dubuque never overlooks the equally essential gentle humor;
he’s also careful to make even minor characters significant. We eventually see
more of Chris’ initial clients: that quaint elderly couple with a conveniently
isolated farm. There’s also the matter of another rogue assassin (Jon Bernthal,
persuasively lethal), cheerfully vicious, operating under equally independent
circumstances. Who is this guy?
Affleck’s performance is crucial
to this film’s success, for reasons that extend beyond story credibility.
There’s a serious possibility of tasteless impropriety and resulting public
opprobrium; I rather doubt that parents of autistic children will be relieved
to learn that their kids can grow up to become lethal assassins. That aside,
it’s equally important — as was the case in Rain
Man and The Big Short — that we
laugh with these men, and not at them.
Under O’Connor’s careful
guidance, Affleck successfully walks the straight and narrow. We see this in
the aforementioned opening scene, with Chris’ minimalist “hints” for Frank and
Dolores: a slight nod, an all but imperceptible change of expression. Usually,
such restraint would reflect the instincts of a cautious accountant; once we
get to know Chris, and think back on this moment, we realize that it’s likely
his best effort at genuine social interaction. That’s pretty clever, and by no
means exploitative or demeaning.
Once Dana enters the picture,
Affleck subtly reveals Chris’ struggle to connect — even bond — at a deeper
level. We never, ever pity him, and that’s an important achievement.
On top of which, Dubuque plays it
safe by spending time with the other children — and parents — at the special
learning facility that Chris’ mother contemplates. Yes, the film’s epilogue has
the quality of a spoon-fed sermon (albeit a gentle one), but that’s fine; as
the campus’ director insists, it’s important to recognize that such children
aren’t “unusual,” “weird” or “damaged”; they’re merely different.
And, as real-world people such as
Michael Burry (The Big Short) have
demonstrated, “different” can be very, very
useful. (Speaking of whom, check out his recent activities.)
Kendrick seems heir to the
quirky-cute tiara worn previously by Meg Ryan, Goldie Hawn and countless
others; the pleasant bonus is that Kendrick’s various characters also display
pluck and intelligence, both on view here. Dana certainly isn’t in Chris’
league, when it comes to puzzles and problem-solving, but she is the person who spotted Living
Robotics’ financial irregularities ... which she reminds him, more than once.
Simmons, as always, is a droll,
crusty delight, but it’s not a one-note part. King earns his own revealing
flashback, which adds layers to both the character and Simmons’ performance.
Addai-Robinson, in turn, is thoroughly credible as an ambitious junior agent
looking to make her bones: We admire her persistence, even as we worry about
what’ll happen, should she be successful.
Jeffrey Tambor, finally, is
spot-on as Silverberg, a former black money accountant-turned-government
witness, whose orbit intersects Chris’ at a point when the latter desperately
needs a mentor (more flashbacks). Tambor is a true character actor, able to
create fresh and wholly unique individuals each time he stands in front of a
camera.
All concerned do commendable
work, on both sides of the camera, and O’Connor assembles the package with
panache. The Accountant is both a
sizzling action thriller and a compelling character drama, much like the best Bourne entries.
And this one also has “franchise”
written all over it.
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