NR | 1h 37m | Drama | 2018
Writer and director Greg Naughton’s “The Independents” takes a familiar story, the formation of a soft rock band, and infuses it with a good deal of authenticity and a deep appreciation for the creative process. Beneath all of the catchy tunes, the film is a fictionalized origin story of “The Sweet Remains,” the real-life folk-rock trio consisting of Naughton, Rich Price, and Brian Chartrand.
But rather than falling into the clichés of the typical “struggling musician” fare, this film feels refreshingly naturalistic, full of small, well-observed moments that capture the highs and lows of people chasing their dreams.
The story follows Rich (Price), a New York graduate student. Rich should be focused on finishing his dissertation but finds himself drawn to songwriting, much to the chagrin of his bossy mother. A chance encounter introduces him to Greg (Naughton), a tree trimmer with a similar passion for music. The two quickly discover a natural harmony between their voices.
Rich and Greg begin to toy with the idea of playing music together in a more official capacity. They soon cross paths with Brian (Chartrand), a hitchhiker whose scrappy, unpredictable energy adds a new dimension to their dynamic.
Together, they form a folk-rock trio and set off for a music festival that may—or may not—be their big break. Along the way, they encounter Granny (Richard Kind), a slick, fast-talking Los Angeles music promoter. Granny promises them opportunities that seem almost too good to be true.
What sets this movie apart from similar stories is its subtle, lived-in approach. Rather than an over-the-top, melodramatic take on fame and fortune, the film thrives on small details: the tedium of long hours on the road, the anxiety of stepping onto an unfamiliar stage, and the unspoken frustrations that come with creative partnerships. There’s a naturalism to the way these characters interact, which makes sense given that the three leads are actual bandmates in real life.
Cinematographer Piero Basso gives the film a warm, organic look; the film shifts seamlessly between the rustic beauty of small-town America and the dimly lit, slightly grimy interiors of roadside motels and low-rent venues.
The van that carries the trio across the country isn’t just a vehicle; it’s a straight-up second home, a microcosm of their journey. It’s full of fast-food wrappers, funky chairs, and the occasional burst of musical creativity. The film’s use of natural light enhances the sense of realism, whether it’s the golden-hour glow of a fading sunset or the flickering neon of a roadside bar.
But while the cinematography provides a strong visual identity, the film’s sound design truly elevates it. The music itself is, of course, a major highlight, with the trio’s three-part harmonies serving as both a narrative and emotional underpinning. But beyond that, the subtle filtering of sounds throughout the film helps immerse the audience in the experience of these musicians.
The creak of an old wooden stage before a performance, the muffled voices of a bar crowd gradually quieting down as a song begins, the ambient hum of the street outside of Rich’s apartment as he strums his guitar—these details make the world feel tactile and lived-in. When the characters aren’t playing, the sounds are just as meaningful. A conversation in a roadside diner feels all the more intimate because of the way the clatter of dishes and low chatter in the background frame their words.
The film isn’t without flaws. Some of its comedic beats, especially early on, feel slightly forced and out of sync with the film’s otherwise easygoing tone. The running joke about Greg and Rich suspecting that the initially silent Brian might be a serial killer, for instance, feels like it belongs in a broader, more exaggerated comedy rather than in a film that generally favors understatement. Certain dramatic elements, such as Greg’s strained relationship with his estranged wife, are only briefly touched upon and could have been explored with greater depth.
But these minor missteps do little to detract from the film’s overall charm. “The Independents” isn’t interested in grand, sweeping moments of triumph or crushing defeats. Instead, it thrives on the quiet victories. There’s the moment when a song finally clicks, or a stranger unexpectedly gives a hand. the unexpected kindness of a stranger. There’s the realization that success isn’t always measured in record deals or sold-out shows, but in the connections formed along the way.
The easygoing rhythm of the storytelling mirrors the experience of being in a band; long stretches of waiting are punctuated by sudden bursts of inspiration and energy. Just be aware that this is definitely a film for adults, as it does feature mature themes, as well as some cursing.
While it may not reinvent the genre, “The Independents” delivers something far more valuable. It delivers an experience that feels genuine, heartfelt, and worth revisiting, like an old favorite record that never loses its resonance.
