Review: ‘The Rental’ makes Airbnbs downright terrifying

The whole concept of an Airbnb is creepy. Think about it. Strangers invite other strangers into their homes or other properties they’ve goosed up, give them the keys, and leave them at it. The level of sheer trust we have in human beings is absurd. But it’s a booming business… and a gold-mine for unspeakable horrors. Dave Franco’s directorial debut The Rental, which he co-wrote with Joe Swanberg, banks on all of the above, and a number of genre tropes, before yanking the rug right from under your feet.

Franco certainly possesses a keen eye and a particular style ⏤ an unfussy, yet still stylish, one at that. His imagery, with credit to cinematographer Christian Sprenger, creepy-crawls under the skin. It’s an unexpectedly rich character study in morals, and as our heroes confront past skeletons, they are dealt a new hand of corruption, deceit, and questionable decision-making. It is initially a slow-burning thriller, a psycho-drama with a racist host (Toby Huss plays redneck creeper named Taylor with icky charm) and plenty of Halloween-bent stalking and heavy breathing, but it soon morphs into a straight-up slasher flick, akin to The Strangers.

Alison Brie plays Michelle, a playful, unassuming lead, whose only real crime is falling for the wrong guy. Dan Stevens steps into the role as her husband Charlie, who is the very definition of problematic straight white man. He has a habit of cheating on women (usually while on drugs) and then immediately tangling into a new romance ⏤ which emerges as the impetus for much of the tension with not only Michelle but his brother Josh (Jeremy Allen White) and girlfriend Mina (Sheila Vand).

The quartet rent out a beach-side house for the weekend, hoping to relax, do some drugs, go for a hike, and get a reprieve from the city’s hustle and bustle. Upon meeting Taylor, crowned the film’s unequivocal red herring, a sense of dread descends around our protagonists. Franco lassoes you in, and for the next 45 minutes, you really live with these characters. The slow emotional unraveling is crucial to the film’s own unsettling descent, ignited when Mina discovers her shower has a hidden camera. Such unwanted surveillance is a very of-the-moment fear ⏤ that Big Brother is watching us through her iPhones, TV sets, and Alexa home apps. You don’t have to reinvent the wheel to deliver a sweaty heart-pounder, and Franco manages to engage on every single level. He mines deep, very real terror to provoke and stun you. In repurposing various horror elements and styles into a bizarrely electric amalgam, The Rental clips along at a surprise pace.

The unnamed, masked killer, whose intentions will forever be a mystery, remains largely in the shadows. That’s the kind of creative choice that adds even more pressure to the story; you wait for a big revelation, and when it never comes, it’s absolutely satisfying. Akin to the killers in 2008’s The Strangers, The Rental‘s bloody-thirsty maniac doesn’t need a rhyme or reason to do what they do. It just is. And it’s just terrific.

Dave Franco’s The Rental will not please plenty of people, but it has a weight and thrill that is undeniable. It’s worth price of admission for Alison Brie’s performance alone.

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