Todd is an orderly at a retirement home. At the outset of Assisted Living, he seems irresponsible, running late for work, goofing in the wheelchairs, sneaking outside to smoke some dope. It's easy to dismiss him; he rides a lot on charm. When his boss lectures him on his precarious future with the institution we recognize the mindset. Another distracted low-level employee who puts in just enough effort to be useful, but coasts as much as he can.

In time we come to understand his lack of involvement as a defense against the depressing circumstances of the seniors, and it's not because of meager resources or patient abuse. The small community where he works is relatively upscale and the fact that its residents are there to pass the time till they die is not especially obvious, though undeniable. And like George, The Assertiveness Monkey, Todd is there to offer comfort by way of mischief, though even he may not be aware of it.

At first his prank of phoning residents and pretending to be departed relatives calling from heaven seems a bit cruel, but there is solace and reassurance in his shtick. Even though he is winging it, explaining heaven is imminent if not already in effect, he is clearly motivated by innocuous, generous playfulness. His advantage over the more professional caregivers cuts in both directions. He is often unreliable, but willing to cross boundaries for the sake of mending the broken spirit.

Writer/Director Elliot Greenebaum has fashioned Assisted Living as a low-budget faux-documentary, using the individual interviews to supplement our knowledge of the supporting players. By conversing with the characters in an informal setting, we can grasp what might have been lost to dialogue in the midst of professional decorum. This wasn't necessarily the only strategy but it works. Greenebaum's visual style and composition are so off-the-cuff that you get the impression the film is free of device, and though this is, of course, patently untrue, it's always better that way. It's amazing how many low-key, apparently plot driven movies (even trashy ones) can barrage you with reams of subtext in addition to thematic clustering.

Whether the director is using this now relatively common no-frills, style of the everyday or amplified flash of heightened perception, the idea is to give the audience some kind of recognizable, adherent reality. Assisted Living registers somewhere between a whisper and a whistle, subtle enough to draw our attention without beating a drum. Greenebaum finds a resonant balance between apathy and pathos, and his tuning fork is Todd, who cares just enough to respect the residents, without crossing the line into pity. Michael Bonsignore is perfect, a sort of every guy who's coasting but bears no ill will; is savvy enough to not take it all too seriously.