The H-Bomb: Just to get this out of the way; it is very easy to make a bad movie. Anyone who has seen the never ending stream of shit that pollutes our DVD shelves and infests our multiplexes knows this to be true. Big budget or small, it doesn’t matter. All it takes is one missing ingredient to derail a film: a weak script, a clueless director, bad editing, poor acting… if just one of these support beams is out of place, the whole fucking house will crumble.
Most of the time, when movies are bad, they just suck. When we’re stuck watching crap like “s. Darko” or “Jonah Hex”, we just can’t wait for them to be over, and we can’t forget about them fast enough. They have no entertainment value whatsoever. Some films can be so wretchedly miserable that they can actually anger the viewer (Uwe Boll, I‘m looking at you). There is, however, a rare breed of bad film where the content is so inept that, when looked at the right way, it can be enjoyed.
When we think of movies that are “so bad they’re good,” our minds usually run to the likes of “Showgirls“ or any picture on Ed Wood‘s CV. These movies don’t come along that often, but when they do, they can actually be more entertaining than most “good” movies out there. Which brings me to 2003’s “The Room”, a would-be intimate indie drama that became a midnight movie hit of sorts, this film is our generation’s answer to “Plan 9 From Outer Space“. It’s so bad “it has to be seen to be believed,” as the Nostalgia Critic put it in his now banned video review (see google for more info on that).
The mildly retarded brain child of lead actor/writer/producer/director/certifiable freak of nature Tommy Wiseau, “The Room” basks so much in its own badness, it stinks so much of its own crotch rot, that it actually jumps that hurdle and becomes a film that is so bewilderingly terrible that it‘s an absolute blast to watch… though I must advise, that it would be wise of you yourself to be blasted when you attempt to watch it… much the way I was.
By any and all rationale, this movie is indeed awful. The acting, particularly by the peculiar Wiseau, is laughably atrocious. The screenplay, if one may call it that, gives new meaning to the word ridiculous. Subplots, such as a main supporting character having breast cancer, and another supporting character owing money to a drug dealer, are brought up for one scene and then never mentioned again. Other sequences, like the one where the characters dress up in tuxedos to go play football (yes, you read that right), were so utterly strange that I just can’t help but wonder exactly what the fuck was going through Mr. Wiseau’s head when he dreamed up this scenario.
Oh, but wait, just what is this scenario? Well, it’s basically about this guy named Johnny (played by Wiseau, who looks like Gene Simmons’ ugly younger brother and speaks with an unidentifiable Euro-trash accent that sounds like a mash between Schwarzenegger and Van Damme at their most unintelligible states), who is engaged to a woman named Lisa, who may be the bitchiest, cuntiest, most unlikable female protagonist since “Boxing Helena”’s Helena. You see, Lisa, as she proclaims to her mother many, many times throughout the story, is no longer in love with Johnny, and is carrying on an affair with Johnny’s best friend, Mark. That’s it, really. Take out all the filler, and all pointless side characters and subplots that go absolutely nowhere, and that’s pretty much the plot of the movie. Just a typical trashy, soap opera-esque love triangle… a love triangle that makes the one in the “Twilight” movies seem deep, thoughtful, and insightful to the nature of human love by comparison (fuck me, did I really just write that sentence?).
But, it’s all the filler that makes this unfathomable pile of doggy poop so much fun. Characters appearing and disappearing with no rhyme or reason or explanation whatsoever, the ham handed writing, the dead end story threads, the belly button fucking (don’t ask), and the awesomely awful acting… it’s these things that make this bad movie great. Again, Mr. Wiseau himself deserves special praise for his hysterically abysmal performance. I mean, his turn in this is legendary. Take this one scene where he spits out the following line of dialogue, “I did not hit her it’s not true it’s bullshit I did not hit her I did not oh hi Mark.” You notice the way I typed it? That’s exactly the way this Brando-in-the-making delivered it, as if it was just one long run on sentence with no pauses, no change of pitch, no nothing. A fucking text-to-speech computer program would give better line readings than this guy!
Tommy Wiseau, you are truly a miracle of modern cinema… the fact that anyone would invest money in a movie written, directed, and starring you gives hope to us all aspiring filmmakers. Seriously, iRATE readers, “The Room” is truly a sight to behold. It’s a film that does not work on any level at all… so much so that it ends up working brilliantly on all levels. Any lover of crap cinema, anybody who loves to laugh at bad movies, this is your fucking wet dream come to life. Check it out.
