I was tempted to sum up "The Roommate" as thus: "Single White Female, 90210," but I didn't. Too obvious, predictable and stilted, much like the movie itself.
"The Roommate" stars Minka Kelly as Sarah, an incoming college freshman (who has to be at least 24 years old) who meets, in short order, several people whose sole purpose in life is to be menaced by the petite Rebecca (Leighton Meester), the cutest little unhinged psycho killer I ever remember seeing in a movie.
If you've seen any number of sadistic roommate flicks (OK, so "Female" is the only other one I can think of, but seriously, this is a total clone), you'll pretty much know what's going on: Rebecca will latch onto Sarah, get insanely jealous of all of her other friends and soon will decide they all have to die so that the two of them can be, gulp, roomies forever!
And there you have it. Sure, other things happen, like the two finding a cute little kitty and bringing it to their room.(Guess what happens to it when it comes between them?) Sarah meets a hot frat-boy drummer (Cam Gigandet), ditches her family at Thanksgiving to spend it with Rebecca's family and flirts with her new design prof (Billy Zane, as slimy as ever).
It all leads up to a wholly ludicrous climax that has no fewer than four significant logical fallacies, shortly before which we find out some disturbing things about Rebecca. (GASP — she takes Zyprexa! At least Lilly gets the product placement.)
The film's most interesting relationships, that of Sarah's dueling friendships with Rebecca and Tracy (Aly Michalka) is flat dropped halfway through the film, though the wholly unnecessary thread involving Sarah's high-school boyfriend consistently disrupts the flow of the film and is carried out to its agonizing ending.
A couple of things this film teaches:
Parents worried about their borderline psychotic daughter will check up on her by simply asking her roommate whether she's been taking her meds. When the roommate says quizzically, "Medication?," the parents will drop it, because they're afraid of their looney kid.
A single stab wound to the back with a box knife (the ones with the razor blades that slide out about an inch and a half) is enough to be instantly fatal.
At frat parties, the punch is spiked with alcohol.
All girls sound exactly alike on the phone, and boyfriends can't tell the difference between their girlfriend's voice and the voice of a random other girl.
Crazy girls are lesbians, or maybe lesbians are just crazy. I can't be sure which.
I know what you're saying: It's just a movie. And you'd be right, but let me ask you this: Would you watch an action movie where the hero falls 20 stories from a building but lands safely on the ground like he was jumping off a couple of stairs? How about a romantic comedy where the heroine falls in love with a serial killer who reforms just in time for them to live happily ever after? OK ... don't answer that.
My point is this: We don't need stark realism in films like these, but we need some kind of coherent plot, logical developments and real tension to move things along.
I mean, really, is that too much to ask from my crazy stalker roommate flicks?