Philly Fringe 2018: Trey Lyford's 'The Accountant' (first review)

In other words, we might not understand everything, but what we do understand is affecting and worthwhile.

Re-setting our clocks

The Accountant begins with deliberate slowness, forcing us to match the character's stillness and leave our busy lives behind. Lyford (creator as well as star) appears in costume designer Tara Webb’s drab suit, bulky glasses, and slicked combover, on Eric Novak's square-cornered drab office set. A bulky desk seemingly floats in a room expanded to feel cavernously empty, under office-standard harsh fluorescence from lighting designer Robin Stamey.

Off to the side, composer and trumpeter Cole Kamen-Green provides a soundscape — using his trumpet to accurately mimic the burbling and hissing of an old radiator — and, later, musical accompaniment.

Upside-down ordinariness

Realistic actions lead to flights of fantasy and whimsical diversions. A stack of paper on the desk expands upward, then contracts; the desk lamp seemingly moves by its own supernatural power. A fan provides some slapstick paper-blowing, and a tape dispenser vexes the accountant in a way that we've all probably experienced.

A call to an automated phone system is hilariously frustrating but becomes eerie when a person answers and waxes poetic about the view from his window. "Everything is the same," he tells our hapless hero about new regulations and forms, "but somehow different." The accountant is part of a stultifying bureaucracy, but escape is possible through his imagination.

Transcending the office

Lyford and his team create magical moments from real life's everyday artifacts. Particularly moving is an encounter with the accountant's daughter (Coralie Holum Lyford) in a gauzy and lovely memory, a romp through snow created with paper. In a darker scene, his slick boss (Ben Bass) comes to cajole and berate him with realistic yet ridiculous business aphorisms.

Through it all, Kamen-Green's soulful music, both live and recorded, lifts us from the mundane office to somewhere beautiful and tragic.

This haunting piece culminates in a stunning transformation that's both cleverly crafted and profoundly meaningful. The Accountant's 75 minutes feel long, as the show deliberately forces stillness and concentration that are anathema to our hectic lives — but never empty.

To read Helen Walsh's review, click here.