Becky Parsons

Becky Parsons has a knack for popping up in projects that stick with you long after the credits roll. She’s not the type chasing blockbuster fame, but her filmography? It’s got this unexpected punch. Take "Weirdos" (2016)—set in late '70s Nova Scotia, the whole thing drips with nostalgia and the weird ache of growing up. Parsons weaves right into that coming-of-age chaos, where every character feels a bit lost, a bit hopeful, and everyone’s got their own oddball charm. The movie’s got a heartbeat, you know? And Becky’s right there, adding to the rhythm. Then there’s "Carmine Street Guitars" (2018). Totally different vibe—this one's a documentary, but honestly, it hums with as much soul as any drama. The film hangs out in a legendary New York guitar shop, and Parsons is part of this low-key magic, helping sketch out a world where every instrument tells a story. It’s not flashy, but it’s intimate, and you can almost smell the sawdust and coffee. People come and go, music floats through the shop, and there’s Becky—grounded, real, impossible to ignore even if she isn’t front and center. Don’t sleep on "Rhonda's Party" (2010) either—a short film, but jam-packed with emotion. Parsons brings out the messy, bittersweet stuff that happens when life suddenly turns left. The story’s about aging, friendship, and those moments that blindside you. Becky’s performance? Subtle but heavy, the kind that sneaks up on you. She’s got this way of making even small roles feel huge, like she’s lived every line. Not many can pull that off.