‘The Roommate’ Review: And You Thought Your Roommate Was Bad

Photo courtesy of Sony Pictures

It’s every college kid’s nightmare: a bad roommate.  You excitedly move into your new dorm only to find that the person you’ll be living with for the next year could be a contestant on “Hoarders,” does tribal chanting at dawn, or eats smoked salmon in bed sans utensils (you know who you are). But it could be worse— you could be bunking with a deranged Leighton Meester.

Such is the unfortunate housing lottery luck of Sara Matthews (Minka Kelly), a pretty and pretty bland fashion student embarking on her first year at the fictional University of LA. In ways that only happen in movies, Sara moves into her ridiculously posh dorm room, immediately gets invited to a frat party that doesn’t suck, doesn’t realize the punch is spiked, and gets taken care of by yummy piece of frat boy Stephen (Cam Gigandet) without getting roofied. Yeah, right. In the midst of her hangover the next morning, Sara meets her late arrival roommate Rebecca (Meester). The roomies bond over their mutual love of drawing, and quickly become best friends forever, sharing clothes, stories and secrets.

But there’s one secret Rebecca isn’t sharing: she belongs in the loony bin. She transforms from a shy, art-loving, clothes-sharing girlfriend to a stage five clinger in the blink of a mascara-matted eye. She develops a strange obsession with Sara, memorizing her schedule, spending her evenings watching her sleep, and scaring off friends, boyfriends, even professors who get in the way of quality time with her roommate. She does terrible things to belly button rings and kittens (seriously, cat lovers beware), all in the name of, what exactly? Love? Lust? Friendship? Sheer boredom?

The Roommate never fully explains Rebecca’s growing attachment to Sara. Yes, it’s understandable that Rebecca’s a lonely college newbie and thus clings onto her new friend, and Sara has nice shiny hair and an enviable wardrobe, but is that really all it takes nowadays to have a severely obsessive stalker tailing your every move? Sara’s character is so sparsely written, such a Mary Sue, that the intense attraction seems not only baseless, but also absurd. Despite her stalker stance, Rebecca is as attractive as Sara (the film barely acknowledges the freakishly uncanny resemblance between Meester and Kelly), is talented, privileged—she could easily make friends without resorting to being a complete creeper. The film skirts around Rebecca’s past—she’s wealthy, but has family problems—and her mental illness—slightly schizophrenic in one scene, bi-polar in another—but, like Sara, Rebecca’s never fleshed out, leaving the audience to frankly not give a damn.

Minka Kelly & Leighton Meester in The Roommate (Photo courtesy of Sony Pictures)

The film toys with the idea of a homoerotic titillation à la Black Swan, but its PG-13 rating hinders anything risqué from happening between Rebecca and Sara, or in the film as a whole, for that matter. Because the film is catering to the “Gossip Girl” demographic, director Christian E. Christiansen softens all of the edge, spending more time showing off the wardrobe department’s hard work (the movie is a song and dance away from being a Gap ad campaign), and its young, pretty cast (actors from “The Vampire Diaries,” “Hellcats,” “90210” and Twilight all make appearances), than setting up any actual shocks, surprise or suspense.

The real problem with this thriller is that there are no thrills, because we already know what’s going to happen. We’ve already seen The Roommate. It’s Single White Female with CW sensibilities. As Rebecca rips off Sara’s mannerisms and style—a necklace here, a tattoo there—The Roommate blatantly and shamelessly rips off 1992 B-thriller Single White Female every chance it gets. It’s a lazy, almost scene-by-scene remake of a movie that didn’t need to be remade.

Making matters worse, the actors could have easily been replaced by mannequins, that’s how vacant and lifeless the performances are. Minka Kelly is all wide-eyed, open-mouthed wonder, blankly taking in the crack-fest that whirls around her, while Cam Gigandet does a James Dean-esque sexy squint and not much else for an hour and a half. As Rebecca, Meester seems to be the only one remotely trying, attempting to convey the crazy brewing underneath—a slight widening of her big brown eyes, an uneasy smile—but her screen time is mostly spent lurking in her dark dorm room, twitching. Hell, that’s time better spent than watching this vacuous, vapid movie.

Thrill-less thriller The Roommate has no pulse, no heart and no soul, and, as predictable as its plot, it flat-lines. Save your ten bucks: D-

About Chree Izzo

Chree Izzo (COM/CAS '11) loves pop culture more than Snookie loves tanned juiceheads, which is saying something.

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