So bad itâs freaking brilliant!
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 doesnât matter. All it takes is one missing ingredient to derail a film: a weak script, a clueless director, bad editing, poor actingâŠ 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 weâre stuck watching crap like âs. Darkoâ or âJonah Hexâ, we just canât wait for them to be over, and we canât 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, Iâm 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 âso bad theyâre good,â our minds usually run to the likes of âShowgirlsâ or any picture on Ed Woodâs CV. These movies donât come along that often, but when they do, they can actually be more entertaining than most âgoodâ movies out there. Which brings me to 2003âs âThe Roomâ, a would-be intimate indie drama that became a midnight movie hit of sorts, this film is our generationâs answer to âPlan 9 From Outer Spaceâ. Itâs so bad âit has to be seen to be believed,â 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, âThe Roomâ 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 itâs an absolute blast to watchâŠ though I must advise, that it would be wise of you yourself to be blasted when you attempt to watch itâŠ 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 canât help but wonder exactly what the fuck was going through Mr. Wiseauâs head when he dreamed up this scenario.
Oh, but wait, just what is this scenario? Well, itâs basically about this guy named Johnny (played by Wiseau, who looks like Gene Simmonsâ 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 âBoxing Helenaââs 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 Johnnyâs best friend, Mark. Thatâs it, really. Take out all the filler, and all pointless side characters and subplots that go absolutely nowhere, and thatâs pretty much the plot of the movie. Just a typical trashy, soap opera-esque love triangleâŠ a love triangle that makes the one in the âTwilightâ movies seem deep, thoughtful, and insightful to the nature of human love by comparison (fuck me, did I really just write that sentence?).
But, itâs 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 (donât ask), and the awesomely awful actingâŠ itâs 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, âI did not hit her itâs not true itâs bullshit I did not hit her I did not oh hi Mark.â You notice the way I typed it? Thatâs 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 cinemaâŠ 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, âThe Roomâ is truly a sight to behold. Itâs a film that does not work on any level at allâŠ 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.