The plot is straightforward. When Joyce’s husband dies, leaving her with debts instead of an inheritance, she has no choice but to turn her place into a quirky little bed and breakfast. In the meantime, she is relentlessly, violently and sexually harassed by a local gang of douchebag skaters, led by the reprehensible Wayne (Ryan Ochoa). Soon, Joyce meets her new tenant, the hunky, mysterious Bob (Oliver Rayon) – “a fortuitous encounter” that’s “meant to be,” according to our zany heroine. When Bob beats up skater Wayne, he becomes Joyce’s “hero and protector, keeping her safe from her own demons and all the danger that lurks around her.”
Things spiral out of control: Joyce dresses in increasingly schizoid outfits (an oversized pink bow, an overabundance of blush, an over-revealing dress); she goes through Bob’s stuff, using his deodorant and toothbrush (eew!); and she even invites him into the bathroom, her privates barely concealed by the foam in the tub. The sudden return of Sarah (Valeska Miller), a previous tenant and friend, and her consequent affair with Bob leads to resentment, bleak revelations, cocaine consumption, and murder. The extended final sequence is suitably demented.
Taking place presumably somewhere in the pits of the U.S. Southwest, Room for Rent has a seedy, melancholic, darkly witty vibe to it. Cinematographer Ziryab Ben Brahem certainly captures the “nuclear” in this nuclear neighborhood. Stoval knows how to build character and tension, but, aided by first-time screenwriter Stuart Flack, sometimes struggles with pacing and doesn’t necessarily showcase Tarantino levels of verbal dexterity (“I may bark sometimes, but all I need is a belly rub,” a character purrs creepily at one point). What truly separates Stoval’s flick from the bunch is its central performance.
“Shaye’s spectacular, her Joyce turns vulnerable, introverted, upfront and scheming, always tittering on the brink of madness.”
Talk about committed. Shaye’s spectacular, her Joyce turns vulnerable, introverted, upfront and scheming, always tittering on the brink of madness. She goes to extremes best left unrevealed here for their sheer outrageousness. In the era of acceptance, there still aren’t many films with aging actresses as leads, and even less with ones willing to go to such lengths. Shaye elevates the entire project to another level, adding a much-needed layer of depth and novelty to it. Whether it’s her interactions with a bewildered Bob or a hilariously mistimed encounter with a postman, she is in complete control of every mannerism and gesture. Bravo.
