A man moves into his grandmother's spooky rent-controlled apartment on the Upper West Side for 12 days in this plot-hole ridden thriller, and by "spooky" I mean "3500 square feet near Central Park for $650 a month". I mean seriously, for $650 a month an apartment that great would have to have all the ghosts of Poltergeist and The Haunting plus the serial killers Freddy Kruger and Michael Myers and the xenomorph from Alien all sleeping on a fold-out couch to deter me from living there. I'm not sure what the writer of Occupant finds frightening about a plastic bag filled with women's shoes, but I'm not going to ask because that just opens up a whole big can of worms about this movie. Is there something ill-defined, not-thoroughly-fleshed-out, and paranormal happening in this apartment? Heck if I know, but I sure in the heck would be upset if my overly attached doorman who likes to buy me groceries while I'm unable to leave my enormous New York apartment brought me some gosh-darned Hungry Man dinners when the Popover Cafe is 6 blocks away. I'd be hot mad if Doorman Joe Who Calls Me Baby brought me microwavable entrees when he could have brought me an order of vegetable samosas from Swagat which is literally around the corner. Who even does that? Did Doorman Joe think to himself, "Why, there's hundreds of restaurants nearby. I'm gonna show my BFF that I love him the only sensible way, which is though the power of the Lean Cuisine. Here you go, baby. Eat up."? If so, he gets no tip.
By the way, the grandma who lived in this apartment is a bad ass since because she seemingly held out since New York was called New Amsterdam, and her wimpy grandson couldn't hack it for 12 measly days. Weak.