The Room

The Room (2003): A Cinematic Masterpiece of Ineptitude

Ladies and gentlemen, gather ’round, because we are about to embark on an exploration of the enigma that is “The Room” (2003). This film is a case study in how not to make a movie. Directed, produced, written by, and starring the mysterious and fascinating Tommy Wiseau, “The Room” has carved out a special place in the annals of cinematic history—not because it’s good, but because it’s so spectacularly, bewilderingly bad. So, grab your spoons (trust me, you’ll need them) and let’s dive into this disasterpiece.

The Plot: Or Lack Thereof

Let’s start with the plot. Oh, the plot. Calling it a “plot” is generous. “The Room” is a tangled web of random events strung together with the flimsiest threads of coherence. The story ostensibly centers on Johnny (Tommy Wiseau), a successful banker who lives in San Francisco with his fiancée, Lisa (Juliette Danielle). Johnny is the embodiment of a good guy—he’s generous, he loves Lisa, and he’s friends with everyone. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, everything. Literally everything.

Lisa, the femme fatale of this trainwreck, decides she no longer loves Johnny and instead falls for his best friend, Mark (Greg Sestero). This love triangle forms the core of the film, but calling it a “core” is misleading because the movie has more subplots than a soap opera on steroids. There’s Denny, the creepily lovable neighbor with a drug problem; Lisa’s mother, who nonchalantly drops the bombshell that she has breast cancer (a plot point that’s never mentioned again); and various other characters who drift in and out of scenes with all the narrative significance of a paper bag blowing through an empty street.

The Characters: Cardboard Cutouts Have More Depth

The characters in “The Room” are a fascinating study in one-dimensionality. Let’s break down the main players:

• Johnny: Our hero, played by Wiseau with the emotional range of a damp sponge. Johnny is an enigma wrapped in a mystery wrapped in an accent that defies geographical categorization. His earnestness is only matched by his bizarre laugh, which sounds like a malfunctioning robot trying to express joy.
• Lisa: The film’s villain, if we can call her that. Lisa is a walking contradiction—she’s bored, she’s passionate, she’s manipulative, she’s clueless. Her motivations change with the wind, and her dialogue delivery is as wooden as a lumberyard.
• Mark: The best friend and reluctant participant in Lisa’s schemes. Mark is supposed to be conflicted about betraying his best friend, but Greg Sestero’s performance suggests he’s more confused about why he agreed to be in this movie.
• Denny: Ah, Denny. The child-like neighbor who has an inappropriate fascination with Johnny and Lisa. His subplot involving a drug dealer named Chris-R is dropped into the story like a grenade and then forgotten just as quickly.

The supporting characters drift in and out with no real purpose. Claudette, Lisa’s mom, exists solely to dispense unsolicited advice and drop her cancer bombshell. Michelle and Mike serve as filler, their scenes mostly revolving around awkwardly sexual encounters that add nothing to the story.

The Dialogue: Written by an Alien Trying to Sound Human

The dialogue in “The Room” is legendary. It’s as if Tommy Wiseau learned English by watching old soap operas and decided to write a screenplay in a single afternoon. The lines range from hilariously stilted to completely nonsensical.

Consider the infamous rooftop scene where Johnny confronts the accusation that he hit Lisa. He bursts out with the line, “I did not hit her, it’s not true! It’s bullshit! I did not hit her! I did nawwwwt. Oh hi, Mark.” The abrupt transition from denial to casual greeting is the stuff of legend.

Lisa’s lines are no better. In one scene, she tells her mother, “I don’t want to talk about it,” approximately five times in a row, making it clear that the script ran out of ideas about five pages in.

Mark’s philosophical musings, like “Sometimes life gets complicated, and the unexpected can happen,” add a layer of pseudo-depth to his otherwise vacant character. It’s dialogue that sounds deep until you think about it for more than a second.

The Cinematography: A Crash Course in What Not to Do

Now, let’s talk about the cinematography. “The Room” is a masterclass in technical ineptitude. The film is filled with awkward camera angles, out-of-focus shots, and lighting that seems to have been arranged by someone who has never seen a movie before.

Wiseau’s decision to shoot the film simultaneously in 35mm and HD video is baffling. It added unnecessary complexity and cost, and the result is a visual mess. Scenes are poorly lit, with harsh shadows and inconsistent color grading that make it look like it was shot in a high school gym.

The rooftop scenes, which are clearly green-screened, offer some of the most laughable effects. The San Francisco skyline looks like it was painted by a toddler, and the background never quite matches the action in the foreground. It’s a visual dissonance that’s hard to look away from.

The Music: Melodrama on Repeat

The soundtrack of “The Room” is another highlight—if by highlight, we mean something that will make you question your life choices. The music oscillates between overly dramatic and completely forgettable. The love scenes are accompanied by cheesy, soft-core porn music that feels like it was lifted straight from a 90s infomercial.

The rest of the score is generic and repetitive, underscoring the already heightened melodrama with a sense of urgency that the plot doesn’t deserve. It’s as if the composer was trying to convince us that something important was happening, despite all evidence to the contrary.

The Sex Scenes: Cringe-Inducing Awkwardness

No review of “The Room” would be complete without mentioning the sex scenes. There are four of them, and they are all gloriously awful. The first one, between Johnny and Lisa, is particularly noteworthy for its sheer length and awkwardness. It goes on for what feels like an eternity, set to the aforementioned terrible music, with Wiseau seemingly making love to Lisa’s navel.

The scenes are so poorly shot and choreographed that they become unintentionally hilarious. The angles, the lighting, the music—it all combines to create something that is more cringe-inducing than erotic. By the time the fourth scene rolls around, you’ll be praying for the sweet release of the end credits.

The Legacy: So Bad It’s Good

So, why is “The Room” so beloved despite—or because of—its many flaws? The answer lies in its sheer audacity. Tommy Wiseau created a film that is so earnest, so sincere in its execution, that it transcends its own incompetence. “The Room” is a testament to what happens when someone with more money than sense decides to make a movie.

The film has become a cult classic, with midnight screenings around the world where audiences interact with the film in ways that enhance its absurdity. Viewers throw spoons at the screen, shout lines of dialogue, and revel in the shared experience of watching a trainwreck unfold in real-time.

“The Room” has also spawned a book, “The Disaster Artist,” written by Greg Sestero, which was later adapted into a critically acclaimed film starring James Franco. This behind-the-scenes look at the making of “The Room” offers a fascinating glimpse into the madness and genius of Tommy Wiseau.

Final Thoughts: Embrace the Absurdity

In conclusion, “The Room” is not just a movie—it’s an experience. It’s a film that defies conventional criticism because it exists in a realm of its own. Watching “The Room” is like witnessing a car crash in slow motion: you know it’s terrible, but you can’t look away.

Tommy Wiseau’s magnum opus is a reminder that sometimes, the best way to appreciate art is to embrace its flaws. “The Room” is a perfect storm of bad acting, terrible writing, and shoddy filmmaking, but it’s also a work of unintentional comedy genius. It’s a film that brings people together, united in their laughter and disbelief.

So, if you haven’t seen “The Room,” do yourself a favor and watch it. Gather your friends, grab some spoons, and prepare to be entertained by one of the most hilariously awful movies ever made. Because in the end, “The Room” teaches us one valuable lesson: sometimes, it’s the imperfections that make something truly unforgettable.

Oh hi, Mark!