Next time, just live alone

As soon as I’m done writing this review, I will have completely forgotten about “The Roommate.” 

In fact, the memory of this movie is already fading.

Leighton Meester plays Rebecca, and she’s really creepy. We know this because she’s artsy, doesn’t like to drink and prefers to be called by her full name instead of Becky or Becca.

Minka Kelly plays Sara, and she’s an idiot. We know this because she drinks punch at a frat party and doesn’t understand why she begins to feel a bit drunk. She falls for the cute frat boy in a band (They couldn’t just settle on one cliché?) she meets after he spills a drink on her. Whoops, how clumsy of him!

Sara and Rebecca are roommates and will surely become BFFs. We know this because they both like pancakes ... or do they?  Rebecca doesn’t like anyone who likes Sara. She follows them around in the library and rips out their bellybutton rings. She is constantly staring at them from far away. At some point we find out that this is all because she’s off her meds, or on too many meds, or something. Too few anti-setting-people-on-fire meds? Or maybe too many staring contest enhancement drugs?

Anyone who saw the trailer for this movie probably figured there was a mild chance it would be a quality thriller and a fairly good chance it would be a campy, hilariously bad B-movie with at least one creative murder scene and at least one scene with gratuitous nudity.

It’s none of those things.

Fear, shock, suspense, anger, laughter: none of these words describe how I felt during the movie. I’m pretty sure the dialogue was written by my mom doing an impersonation of how teenagers talk, but even that wasn’t overly annoying because the movie is a merciful 91 minutes short.  

Whatever, what were we even talking about again?