Directed by: James Franco
Starring: James Franco, Dave Franco, Seth Rogen, Alison Brie
Rated R, 104 minutes
A primer for the uninitiated: In 2003, an independent film called “The Room” premiered in Los Angeles to little fanfare, closing after two weeks. And it deserved to close; those who saw it uniformly agreed that it was bad. Except, miraculously, the movie started gaining traction, precisely because of how bad it was. It wasn’t bad in the way that, say, forgettable holiday movies are bad, or the way that juiced-up action movies are bad, or even the way that absolute groaners (looking at you, “The Circle”) are bad. “The Room” was the rare film that was so ambitiously terrible, so inexplicably awful in every respect, that it became a spectacle in its own right. “The Room” was so bad it was good. And so, from its dumpster fire ashes, a cult following was born.
At the center of all this was Tommy Wiseau, the film’s enigmatic writer, director, star, and producer, who spent upward of $6 million to get his ridiculous passion project made. Among the many mysteries that still surround Wiseau are questions like: Where did he get $6 million? Where is he from? How old is he? Was he serious?
Thanks to a memoir by his co-star, Greg Sestero, we have an answer to that last question: Yes. And now, thanks to the Franco brothers and a slew of celebrities in on the joke, we have “The Disaster Artist,” an adaptation of Sestero’s memoir that dramatizes the making of “The Room,” bestowing a more reasonable story upon an opus that has defied reason for 15 years.
Unlike its inspiration, “The Disaster Artist” is good and entertaining, if not technically remarkable one way or the other. It exists in large part to replicate choice moments from “The Room,” and its dedication to accuracy makes the project feel like it comes from a place of love. “The Disaster Artist” finds Hollywood finally laughing with Tommy Wiseau, not at him. The movie’s highlight is James Franco (“127 Hours”), who not only gets Wiseau’s bizarre accent right, but imbues the notoriously inscrutable filmmaker with a humanity that lifts “The Disaster Artist” from goofy novelty to legitimately perplexing drama.
Fittingly, what has stuck with me since I saw “The Disaster Artist” is not its references to the subculture that surrounds “The Room” (footballs and tuxes and spoons, oh my!), or its perfect casting choices, or even its watchability as a movie in its own right—though these things all make “The Disaster Artist” enjoyable and impressive. Instead I find myself wondering whether the existence of “The Disaster Artist” doesn’t, in fact, validate all of Wiseau’s ludicrous ambitions. Because logically, Wiseau should have faded into obscurity, ignored as another talentless oddity. But now, by sneaking in the back door, he has what he presumably always wanted: more exposure for his movie, the admiration of celebrities, and, to top it off, a portrayal by an actor who once played James Dean on screen. And there may be more; it’s not out of the question that Franco could land an Oscar nomination for playing Wiseau.
On the one hand, the success of Wiseau’s peculiar American Dream is almost inspirational. On the other hand, “The Disaster Artist” highlights that he is to be pitied; even though he claims to be in on the joke, we’re still mocking the attempt he made to tell his story. And even though James Franco’s performance gives serious attention to the fears and insecurities that produce a persona like Wiseau’s, “The Disaster Artist” ultimately gives in to the joke, lampooning its central figure in spectacular fashion. Because how could it not?
Of course, the result is the same as it would have been if “The Room” had been any good: Tommy Wiseau is a star. The great unanswerable question now is, what did he want? Did he want to be famous? Did he want to be taken seriously? Did he want attention or respect? In raising such questions, “The Disaster Artist” becomes something of a cautionary tale, and one particularly relevant to this moment, especially as we bid farewell to the first year of the reality show presidency. Legitimate or not, Tommy Wiseau has somehow become part of the zeitgeist, and we are all responsible for getting him there.
Originally published in The Harvard Press on 1/12/18.