By Robert Scucci
| Published
2020’s The Occupant, when you break it down, is essentially the Spanish-language answer to films like the 2019 Korean-language satire, Parasite. If you’re looking for an English-language variation on similar themes, you could also point to 1991’s The People Under the Stairs (1991) or Jordan Peele’s Us (2019). All of these films are about haves versus have nots, and the desperate, oftentimes insane measures people take when they feel like society has wronged them.
This is obviously a universal theme because this kind of push and pull transcends languages and cultures, which is why this particular subset of psychological thrillers can get under your skin so easily, especially if you don’t quite belong to either camp. I’ve lived paycheck to paycheck at a few different points in my life, but I’ve never gotten to the point where I’ve been evicted from my apartment and become obsessed with the new tenant who took my place like in The Occupant.
Watching films like The Occupant, I feel like a helpless spectator because I don’t belong to either world. I rent an apartment and have a crappy electric oven, which kind of sucks, but I’m also not going to sneak into a wealthy acquaintance’s house while he’s away so I can use his gas range and start seducing his wife either. Sitting on the sidelines, all you can do is hope that the film’s protagonist comes to his senses before he does something incredibly stupid.
Like Parasite, But Tells Its Own Story
Parasite tells the story of an impoverished family who slowly infiltrates a much wealthier household over the course of several weeks. One family member lands a tutoring job, and slowly refers the others for various odd jobs around the house. Over time, they essentially “move in” and live like wealthy people whenever the owners are out. It’s a horrifying look at how quickly desperation can spiral into entitlement once people start convincing themselves they deserve a lifestyle they never earned.
It’s also worth mentioning that Parasite is a dark comedy, meaning it has fun with its satire while pointing to larger systemic issues involving working-class families trying to get a fair shake in life. One of the film’s biggest subversions is that the wealthy family are not cartoon villains. They’re just wealthy people who don’t realize they’re being manipulated by people they trusted.
The Occupant, however, goes incredibly dark, and there’s nothing funny about what’s happening here. When we’re introduced to Javier Munoz (Javier Gutierrez), he’s selling his pristine luxury apartment after losing his executive job and realizing he can no longer afford to live there. He moves into an apartment he believes is beneath him with his wife Marga (Ruth Diaz) and son Dani (Christian Munoz). Instead of getting introspective or figuring out how to improve his situation, Javier becomes obsessed with the man who moved into his old home, Tomas (Mario Casas).
Tomas is, by all measures, a decent guy. He has a troubled past, but he’s also a recovered alcoholic doing his best to keep his life together. Javier learns this after sneaking into the apartment and finding Alcoholics Anonymous chips that track his sobriety milestones in Tomas’ desk drawer. Tomas is happily married to his wife Lara (Bruna Cusi), and together they have a daughter named Monica (Iris Vallés Torres). In Javier’s mind, this is the idyllic family he deserves to have for himself.
Now that Javier has Tomas in his crosshairs, as well as the completely irrational desire to move back into his old home, he gets to work sabotaging Tomas’ life. He starts attending Tomas’ AA meetings and shares fabricated stories about his own troubled past. Slowly, he gains Tomas’ trust, and the two become friends. While Tomas and his family are out for the day, Javier lets himself into the apartment and pretends he still lives there. As you’d expect, Javier’s behavior escalates, and he starts manipulating Tomas’ family into believing he’s a terrible person who can’t keep his vices in check.
As Javier gains the upper hand with Tomas’ family, his own personal life slowly falls apart, but he doesn’t care. He’s so obsessively fixated on becoming a have instead of a have-not that he turns into the absolute worst version of himself and eventually pushes himself past the point of no return.
A Slow Burn Procedural Thriller
One thing I really appreciated about The Occupant is how little room there is for ambiguity. Javier’s fall from grace feels inevitable from the start, but we still get to watch him escalate over time. Meanwhile, Tomas remains completely clueless to the fact that Javier is manipulating him every step of the way while he’s genuinely trying to be a good husband, father, and productive member of society. Tomas isn’t perfect, but he doesn’t deserve what Javier is doing to him.
Javier can’t see things that way, though. In his mind, he already “made it” and had the perfect life, only for it to be ripped away from him. Because of that, he views Tomas as an enemy who needs to be eliminated. Instead of looking inward and trying to rebuild his own life, he dedicates all of his energy toward destroying somebody else simply because they’re living the life he thinks should still belong to him. It’s terrifying how much time and effort he’s willing to spend sabotaging Tomas when he could have used that same energy to improve his own situation instead.
The Occupant is far from an easy watch, but it’s such an effective thriller because you keep waiting for Javier to stop, and he doubles down every single time. It creates the same feeling you get in a horror movie when somebody decides to investigate the creepy basement even though you already know there’s no coming back once they reach the bottom of the stairs.
It’s also terrifying to think about somebody secretly living in your home while you’re away at work all day. If you want to experience the fear of checking behind your shower curtain every time you walk into the bathroom, you can stream The Occupant on Netflix with an active subscription.
