Some films go down as the greatest of their era. Some go down as the greatest of any era. Some go down as the worst of their era, and then trickle down into being
the worst of any era. But some
films, a rare few, manage to find a middle ground: Something that by all
rationality should go down as one of the worst but is instead remembered as something
great.
There’s been quite a few examples of this in my lifetime alone. The
all-round shoddy production values of the Birdemic films have kept coathangers
in everyone’s hands since the first one’s release in 2010. M. Night Shyamalan,
for many years, was regarded as one of the absolute worst, with such crowning
jewels of hilariously awful as The Happening and After Earth under his belt.
Hell, depending on who you ask, even the Twilight series enters into this realm
of reputation. But for my money, no singular bad film has given me more joy
than Tommy Wiseau’s 2003 magnum opus The Room.
And apparently, I’m not the only
one, seeing as the film’s reputation has grown so much over the last few years
that we now have a Hollywood production all about the making of the infamous
classic. But how does it hold up?
The plot: Struggling actor Greg (Dave Franco), on a whim,
encounters the eccentric and likewise trying-to-make-it actor Tommy (James
Franco). After finding no luck in Hollywood through the traditional audition
process, they decide to set out and make their own film. As the cast and crew
are brought in, and Tommy’s attitudes on set start to cause tensions, the
resulting production would go on to make an even bigger impact on the world
than any of them could have ever predicted.
I’ve gone to see The Room several times at the cinema. One
of my locals has interactive screenings that it has maintained on a monthly
basis for four years. Part of the festivities include an impression contest
where people head up onstage to give their best imitation of Tommy Wiseau. I
bring all this up because, over the process of those screenings, I have seen a lot
of people do these impressions; hell, I’ve
even done them in these contests.
James Franco doesn’t do an impression. Watching him, it’s hard to separate the
fact that he is an actor playing this person because he manages to channel that
one key aspect of the filmmaker that so many others failed to: His truly unique
on-screen presence. Part of what makes The Room so enjoyable as a bad film is
that Wiseau’s performance is so strange, so sporadic, so unbelievable, that
it draws people in regardless of how much he mumbles every other word. James
absolutely nails that, making everything from the weird vocal tics to the
possibly-distant connection to the English language to even the more dramatic
moments between him and Dave Franco feel vital to watch.
Speaking of Dave Franco, he is likewise pitch-perfect in his
portrayal of Greg Sestero, although not quite for the same reasons as James. He
honestly has far more energy to his existence than the real-life Greg, but when
acting opposite James, it never becomes apparent that these two are related by
blood. As is constantly mentioned in the film-within-a-film, Greg’s character
is the best friend of Tommy’s character and that is precisely the kind of
chemistry these two create.
Beyond our main two, it’s recognisable name city up
in here so let’s quickly go over what I can: Seth Rogen and Paul Scheer are
very engaging as the on-set peanut gallery, otherwise known as the script
supervisor and DP respectively, Josh Hutcherson, Jacki Weaver and Zac Efron
fill their real-world roles very nicely, Efron in particular is crazy effective
as Chris-R, Ari Graynor as the actress playing the main love interest works
very well as she tries to work through all the strangeness going on, and the
opening parade of cameos ranging from J. J. Abrams to Kevin Smith to
Keegan-Michael Key help set an atmosphere of true appreciation for the weirder
side of indie cinema.
When dealing with a film that is best-known for being
unintentionally hilarious, it makes sense that this film about that film aims
for comedy. Most of it is generated by James Franco pretty much being Wiseau in all his awkwardness,
along with his interactions and spats with the cast and crew and pretty much
anyone he encounters. It delves into quite a few of The Room’s most infamous
moments, like Johnny loudly proclaiming that he did NAAAAAAAAHT hit his fiancé, or characters
passing around a football while wearing tuxedos in a back alley for no given
reason, or Lisa’s mother declaring that she has breast cancer in a subplot that
is never revisited.
However, when the
film delves into the specifics of the film, it never comes across as
mean-spirited. It presents the oddities of the production as what they are,
oddities, rather than pointing fingers and going “You made a bad film, so you
should feel bad”. Echoing Tim Burton’s Ed Wood, another film about a cult
director known for insanely kitschy products, the script by frequent John Green
adaptors Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber keep Tommy as a creative mind
well in focus. He’s erratic and carries a massive ego on his back, but he also
has a passion and drive that isn’t that unusual in the realms of direction. The
film even namechecks Hitchcock and Kubrick, highlighting their own infamous
conduct on film sets, to show that for as bizarre as the man is, Tommy Wiseau’s
behaviour isn’t that far removed from
who are considered to be the greatest filmmakers of all time.
The reasons for all of this are rather simple: Hatred, real bile-in-the-system
hatred, isn’t what made this film go into the annals of legend. Enjoyably bad
films aren’t the kind that hideously offend every person who sees them (well,
maybe it offends their sense of taste, but not usually more than that) or get
people to boycott the indie cinemas that host the midnight screenings. They are
the films where all the wrong pieces fall into the right places, resulting in a
film that manages to entertain in spite of itself. There’s an entire culture
surrounding enjoyment of the objectively awful, quite a bit is evident in the
film’s cast. Scheer and fellow co-star Jason Mantzoukas co-host a film podcast
called How Did This Get Made? all about bad movies, even featuring an episode
about The Room. Sharon Stone, who has a brief cameo in this film, is a reigning
queen of schlock cinema. She literally has an entire chapter in the book of bad
films devoted to her, something that she has always taken in stride.
Translating cult appeal for a film to a mainstream audience always has its
drawbacks; there’s no guarantee that two people will look at the same film and
be able to appreciate it on the same level, especially if that level is one
that the filmmaker never intended to reach. This very easily could have become
a film just for the fans of the subject. But instead, because of how much it
delves into Tommy’s own mannerisms, his drive and ultimately just what makes
the film so intriguing, it effectively creates drama, comedy and even a pinch
of tragedy that rings true regardless of experience with the original film.
Because within every pore of The Disaster Artist’s workings is a genuine love
for a film that may not have set out to do so but managed to bring happiness to
audiences all over the world.
Honestly, outside of fears relating to how well this film
would hold up on its own, there was another worry I had going into this. Having
watched most of Point Grey’s productions over the last three years, I have come
to rely on them for insanely well-utilised soundtrack choices. These are the
guys who always scratch my itch for effective uses of music in film. Knowing
how star-studded this production is and
how niche the subject matter surrounding it is, I actually thought this would
bear the exception in regards to soundtrack.
Boy, was I wrong on that one and
it starts in a weirdly natural place: A meme. Early on, we see and hear James
Franco as Tommy singing along to Never Gonna Give You Up, itself in the annals
of unintentional humour through how the Internet turned it into a running joke.
It being matched up against a filmmaker who, through The Room and the online
sharing of clips from it, became a meme in his own right is the level of ideal
soundtrack I’ve come to expect from these guys. And it doesn’t even stop there.
Rob Base’s It Takes Two as a backdrop for Tommy and Greg first arriving in
Hollywood, Kylie Minogue’s Can’t Get You Out Of My Head takes on a surreal
literalness in its use against a film that itself people can’t stop thinking
about, and Corona’s Rhythm Of The Night becomes a kind of character anthem for
Tommy. For a filmmaker who by all appearances seems to be in tune to his own
rhythm and wound up acting on impulse more than anything else, it fits very
well and James Franco singing it in character always brought a smile to my
face.
All in all, this is the kind of film that The Room deserves
to have made about it. The cast is both well-recognised and pitch-perfect in
their casting, the soundtrack once again lives up to the Point Grey standard,
the humour doesn’t shy away from the obvious faults of the film-within-the-film
without coming across as hateful in any real sense, and the writing overall
gives a real sense that this is one-of-a-kind film made by a one-of-a-kind
human being that people should know
about. This is why I’ve always
advocated for enjoying cinema regardless of its objective quality: Because only
through a collection of astoundingly bad ideas could arise a film so impossibly
enjoyable that people would love it enough to make this kind of film honouring
it. It’s cult cinema culture for the mainstream crowd, and by all accounts,
it’s one of the best attempts at that dichotomy that has ever been produced.
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