Sign up for our newsletters Subscribe
Credited as Jose in the end titles, the attendant is a a heavyset man of middle age with longish hair and a slightly pockmarked face. In most Hollywood action movies, if you were to see a guy like this running a gas station, he'd be reclining in an uncomfortable chair, smoking a joint or reading a porno magazine—anything but making an effort to help his customers. I suspect filmmakers prefer to depict blue-collar types like Jose as caricatures so that audiences don't feel bad if they get gunned down in an action sequence. Collateral damage in more ways than one, they seem expendable even when they're alive.
The next paragraph contains spoilers.
Jose does end up getting killed by the villain in The Call, but his death carries an unexpected weight. In our brief encounter with him, Jose proves himself to possess a sense of duty and common decency. Knowing that the bad guy would kill someone like that (as opposed to a random bum we aren't meant to mourn for even a second) actually makes him scarier.
This scene is in keeping with this surprisingly optimistic film, in which every working person takes his or her job seriously and our nation's surveillance culture becomes a means of bringing communities together. Indeed, The Call could have been titled It Takes a Village to Catch a Serial Killer—the people in it are just that helpful. What strengthens this rosy picture of community is that every individual—from Halle Berry's heroine to Jose the gas station attendant—is believably vulnerable. Prior to its implausible revenge-fantasy conclusion, The Call advances the reasonable message that no one person can respond to a crisis alone. The film acknowledges that high-stress situations can bring on anxiety and feelings of helplessness, and that even the best-intentioned people cannot resolve every crisis they encounter. I find this refreshing in contrast to the fantasies of superhuman prowess that most Hollywood action movies try to sell us.