An Unintentional Masterpiece

The geniuses behind the worst movie ever

“An Unintentional Masterpiece”

A Review of The Disaster Artist by Nick Olszyk

MPAA Rating, R

USCCB Rating, A-III 

Reel Rating, Four Reels            

            My wife saw the mysterious cult hit The Room before I did, and when I asked if she wanted to watch it with me, flatly refused. “It’s so bad,” she lamented, “so bad, you can’t even make fun of it.” This impressed me, as our common love of Mystery Science Theater 3000 was one of things that initially attracted me to her. The Room deserves its reputation as one of the worst movies ever made, but it’s one of a select few that so genuinely terrible that it becomes a thoroughly entertaining cinematic experience. The Disaster Artist is the story of how this legendary film came to be, and it is not a terrible movie. In fact, it is excellent, although perhaps not nearly as fun as its subject.

            The Disaster Artist begins as a typical rags-to-not-nearly-rags story of a struggling actor in Los Angeles. Greg Sestero (Dave Franco) has no talent but is handsome enough to land a few small gigs. He languishes in obscurity until he befriends Tommy Wiseau (James Franco). Tommy is even more talent stricken but also more determined. “I wish I could be like you,” Greg wonders. “You’re so fearless.” “I don’t care. I do it,” Tommy says in a bizarre and unidentifiable accent. One producer Tommy confronts at a restaurant disagrees. “It will never happen for you, not in a million years,” he snarls. “But after that?” Tommy counters. After many false starts, Tommy decides to write, direct, produce, and star as Johnny in his own movie, casting Greg as the second lead Mark. “We’ll show the world. We’ll be famous,” he grins. As the saying goes, “be careful what you wish for, you may get it.”

            As Tommy and Greg begin production of The Room, two things become apparent. First, Tommy is insanely wealthy but his source of funds – to this very day – remains a mystery. Second, these clowns have no idea what they are doing. Tommy doesn’t grasp the difference between film and digital, so he insists shooting with both kinds of cameras simultaneously. “The lightning isn’t even the same,” a crew member points out. Tommy doesn’t care: the bigger the better. Scenes end abruptly. Plot points are started and never revisited. Emotional reactions make no sense. While everyone except Tommy understands this is a bad film, no one is prepared for the horror that is put up on the big screen opening night.

            One of the reasons Tommy is such a fascinating character is total committed to his persona. He claims to be from “the Bayou” but sounds nothing like a Cajun, and at first insists he is nineteen but is clearly much older. He is like an eternal method actor. I was reminded of something the great character actor Peter Sellers once said: “there is no me. There used to be a me, but I had it surgically removed.” It may be a false image, but this is what makes The Room so compelling. It is genuine – there is nothing commercial, contrived, or artificial. It perfectly represents the mind of its creator. At its premiere, the cast and crew are at first embarrassed, even terrified, but by the credits are laughing hysterically and give Tommy a standing ovation. For his part, Tommy is mortified until comforted by his friend. “Listen to that response!” Craig tells him. “You think Hitchcock got that kind of response? You did this.” The Room remains an unintentional masterpiece that is terrible but sincerely terrible. “How many movies are we still talking about over ten years after their premiere” The actor Adam Scott noticed. “You can’t even name the movie that won Best Picture two years ago.” It was Birdman, but I am a movie critic.           It’s wonderful to see this kind of raw passion make it into a form that is widely available, but there are limits to unfettered opportunity. Bad movies – like junk food – should be a rarity in a cinematic diet. The Disaster Artist also brilliantly demonstrates how Tommy’s unlimited cash flow was a problem. Rather than rent the film equipment, he buys it. Rather than shoot on location, he recreates outdoor scenes on a backlot. “It’s a real Hollywood movie,” he tells his frustrated script supervisor. The result is a film that, in terms of budget, looks like a student film but cost $6 million to produce, a horrendous waste of time and money.

            As a director, Tommy does some horrible things simply because his money and position enable him. He fires and rehires crew members. He doesn’t listen to wise advice. He insults his lead actresses because she has birthmarks. “This is sexy American movie, not European,” he screams at her. At heart, he is a nice guy but, as history has shown again and again, unlimited power in the hands of a man with a passionate vision can bring horrific evil.

            In Christ’s parable of the talents, He makes it clear that our station or wealth does not matter; it’s how a man uses the gifts God gave him that counts. Yet what happens if someone is good at seemingly nothing? It’s unfortunately a compliant that often from students. God doesn’t care so much about excellence in a certain field but excellence in holiness. Every man can be good at being human. Tommy was a terrible filmmaker but a great friend to Greg, helping him when no one else would. Their great on-screen chemistry no doubt comes from the actors’ experience as real-life brothers, and no other actor acting pair could have done as well. The best part of the movie is the celebration of friendship that comes from a shared triumph. It gives Mark’s constant discription of Johnny as his “best friend” new meaning. The Room is still great to mock, but now there just a hint of sentiment underneath.