Mark Reviews Movies: RENT-A-PAL

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Review by Mark Dujsik | September 10, 2020

A sad and inevitably tragic study of loneliness, Rent-A-Pal watches as a 40-year-old man, caring for his ailing mother in his childhood home, loses touch with reality and humanity. The impetus, at least on the surface, is a video tape that shares the film's title, in which a seemingly pleasant guy puts on a show of being the viewer's friend. First-time writer/director Jon Stevenson could have taken this gimmick into the realm of science-fiction or the supernatural, but while there are suggestions that something isn't quite right with the tape or the man on the television screen, the story remains grounded in the solitary, increasingly desperate reality of the man watching the tape.

He's David (Brian Landis Folkins), a lifelong bachelor whose entire existence has been overtaken by his responsibilities to his mother Lucille (Kathleen Brady) and grief that he has never had a chance to communicate. At the start of the story, he watches tapes of women, introducing themselves to an audience of lonely hearts as part of video dating service.

One woman catches David's attention, but her status as a prospective "match" is ruined when she says she doesn't want to meet a guy who still lives in his mother's basement. Stevenson shows himself capable of being a subtle—despite how over-the-top the film's climax becomes, relative to the rest of the story—and clever filmmaker in the ensuing cuts (Stevenson also serves as editor). David stops the tape after the woman's pronouncement, and following a couple beats of shots inside the VCR, we get a wide shot of David, sitting dejectedly on a couch. In the background, illuminated by the light upstairs, there's a doorway and a stairwell, leading to the ground floor from the basement David calls home.

We know nothing of David—not of his mother, not of his role as her caretaker, not of his dead father—at this point, but that shot, as well as the proceeding scene of him making lunch for and trying to feed his mother, is about as solid a summation as we need. This is a sad man—alone, looking for some kind of human connection beyond what he currently knows, close to the point of defeat. It's rather impressive how much sympathy Stevenson and, as important, Folkins engender with a single composition and a single look on the character's face.

The rest of the story follows David in his day-to-day routine, interrupted and gradually altered, of course, by the presence of his "buddy" via the video cassette. David finds that tape on a whim, noticing it in the bargain bin of the video dating company's headquarters. He has come for his regular dose of rejection. There are no women interested in him, but surely, he should pay for these tapes featuring other potential matches.

In the bin, staring up at him while the receptionist charges his credit card again and again, is a smiling, pleasant face, attached to a body keenly dressed in a shirt and tie, a sweater vest, and khakis. He calls himself "Andy" (Wil Wheaton, eerily polite), and the packaging promises that he'll be there for you.

Two things of importance occur: After finding the tape weird, David eventually becomes obsessed with Andy's presence, and a woman named Lisa (Amy Rutledge) responds to David's own video introduction. The "relationship" between David and Andy takes a good chunk of focus, showing the TV man's stories and responses to the unknown viewer. They eventually stop sounding canned and unnatural (It's rather clever of the guy who made the tape, knowing that anyone desperate enough for the facsimile of a friend on a video tape would have a certain set of issues and troubles), and soon, David is having full conversations with the man on the TV, who also seems to respond directly to David and whatever is happening in the basement.

Through all of this, we get to know a bit more about David. He is alone, yes, and it didn't simply start with his current situation. If he once had any career ambitions, they're gone now. His mother was abusive, and now, he's the only person she has. His almost idolized, if often absent, father died in such a way that he hasn't processed the death, let alone the grief.

The vital thing here is how well Stevenson pulls us further and further into David's state of mind. Andy's responses seem to change. His image will appear on the screen, even after David has turned off the television. A couple of times, he appears to witness—and guffaw at—some embarrassing situation into which David has gotten himself. Another story might insist on some fantastical explanation for these apparent moments of sentience, but here, we're so trapped inside David's world that of course it seems as if Andy is real in some way.

As for Lisa, she's a dear—kind and empathetic and fully aware of David's troubles (She's a professional caregiver). That part of the story offers some kind of hope, as the two go on a date and Lisa helps David when his mother disappears into the night.

It can't last, though, and if there's an issue with the film's effectiveness as a character study, it's in how speedily Stevenson's screenplay rushes toward transforming David's loneliness, frustration, and resentment into actual action. From the start and with the film's moody feeling of imprisonment, we doubt Rent-A-Pal is going to arrive at anything approaching a happy ending. The ending we get may be rushed and seemingly out of character with the rest of the film, but at least the journey to it is engagingly troubling.

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