More often than not, when Hollywood falls into the misfortune of slapping audiences with a bottom-of-the-barrel cinematic atrocity, the final fate is it spirals into obscurity with virtually everyone forgetting about its existence within a matter of a year (maybe less). Then there is rare films such as 'The Room' that succeed at achieving the strange feat of soaking the audiences with laughter for how horrendous it is in quality. That is where Polish-born director Tommy Wiseau (or wherever on Earth he was born, who knows?) and his friend Greg Sestero come in. After a longtime struggle to sell their script to major studios, it was up to this duo to come up with their independent black comedy. The results are something initially unsurprising: a disastrous, slipshod, horribly acted slugfest that spent the following ten years growing an unusual cult status from audiences who relish in laughing at the final product for how wildly inept it is. In short, it is a rare cinematic pain- inducer that everyone is willing to withstand. So the story here follows Johnny (played by Tommy Wiseau), a San Francisco banker who is on his way to marrying his long-time girlfriend Lisa (played by Juliette Danielle). What the poor sap doesn't know however, is that Lisa has grown bored of him and decides she is not in love with him and has unexpectedly fell in love with his best friend Mark (played by Greg Sestero). Although Mark is initially reluctant, not wanting to soil his friendship with Johnny), Lisa is too persitent and pulls him into a romance that soon sends everyone's lives in a downward spiral.
This film completes the handbook of how not to make a cinematic picture: horrendous acting, despicable excuse of a script, production values that would fit best for a middle school play, and dialogue that is just flat out bad to the core. If you wondering about the story, well, that's pretty much of an eye-roller as well. But Tommy Wiseau's mysterious distortion of artistic value evokes the mystery of how one can make such an atrocity and somehow provide a oddly fresh source of laughter. Wiseau, spending the entirety phoning in a mawkish performance and delivering his lines with total lack of authenticity, puts on the show with his goofy chemistry with Juliette Danielle. But once Lisa's plan to disavow her engagement with Johnny takes action, that is when the unintentional hilarity ensues. Each scene taking a place on the rooftop with the San Francisco, tacked in sloppy green-screen effects, has moments of "so bad, it's good moments" spectacle. Nearly every other scene, however, slips into the cracks of "so inept, it's just bad". That is not even including Wiseau's braindead way to filming and editing each scene, especially in the overlong sex scenes in which we witness repeated footage of Wiseau's nude back. Secondly, how often do you go to a friend's house and find pictures of silverware in the living room? Now that is just silly. Above all, the events that transpire are too short of substance in terms of execution the point where even the unintentional hilarity factor has difficult to dig up.
The Room may indeed fit perfectly in the category one of the worst movies in cinematic history, but in its own special way. Regardless, the level of ridiculousness still falls too shallow to uphold a proper "good because it's bad" spectacle. It is more of just plain bad and not enough of funny bad, which is simply disappointing to say the least.
This film completes the handbook of how not to make a cinematic picture: horrendous acting, despicable excuse of a script, production values that would fit best for a middle school play, and dialogue that is just flat out bad to the core. If you wondering about the story, well, that's pretty much of an eye-roller as well. But Tommy Wiseau's mysterious distortion of artistic value evokes the mystery of how one can make such an atrocity and somehow provide a oddly fresh source of laughter. Wiseau, spending the entirety phoning in a mawkish performance and delivering his lines with total lack of authenticity, puts on the show with his goofy chemistry with Juliette Danielle. But once Lisa's plan to disavow her engagement with Johnny takes action, that is when the unintentional hilarity ensues. Each scene taking a place on the rooftop with the San Francisco, tacked in sloppy green-screen effects, has moments of "so bad, it's good moments" spectacle. Nearly every other scene, however, slips into the cracks of "so inept, it's just bad". That is not even including Wiseau's braindead way to filming and editing each scene, especially in the overlong sex scenes in which we witness repeated footage of Wiseau's nude back. Secondly, how often do you go to a friend's house and find pictures of silverware in the living room? Now that is just silly. Above all, the events that transpire are too short of substance in terms of execution the point where even the unintentional hilarity factor has difficult to dig up.
The Room may indeed fit perfectly in the category one of the worst movies in cinematic history, but in its own special way. Regardless, the level of ridiculousness still falls too shallow to uphold a proper "good because it's bad" spectacle. It is more of just plain bad and not enough of funny bad, which is simply disappointing to say the least.