Ah, yes, Tommy Wiseau's "The Room". I remember the first time I watched this...ahem..."film". I was with my close friend Jeff, with whom I watched plenty of bad movies. The Giant Claw, Plan 9 from Outer Space, Man-squito, those were the days... But when we put in this flick to give it our "bad movie approval"...we couldn't finish it. It was so bad, so boring, so stale, that we didn't find really any enjoyment out of it...except for, of course, "YOU ARE TEARING ME APART LISA."
No, it wasn't until a year or two later that I partook in the infamous drinking game for the horrible movie. All of us decided that, since there was no way any one of these challenges would get us really drunk, we would take two. I took a shot every time there was a panning shot of San Francisco. And I took a shot every time Johnny was mentioned to be Mark's "best friend". Suddenly, the truth of cinema became realized. I achieved cinematic nirvana. This film is brilliant. It's hilarious. It's unparalleled. It's...turning sideways. (By this point, my head hit the floor, and I wasn't allowed to consume any more alcohol according to my ex-girlfriend. Needless to say, I'm single now. The drinking game can go on!)
From that point on, I had nothing but adoration for this fabulous movie. I drank to it two more times, enjoyed screening it with all of my friends, and constantly asked my close friend Rich "Oh hai Rich, how's your sex life?" But I knew, oh I knew, my life could not be complete until I attended a midnight screening of this Citizen Kane of bad cinema. Friends, readers, and people who are on this page solely to read this review, I had that great pleasure. And it was indeed a great pleasure.
Inflated condoms bounced around the auditorium, distorting the light onto the screen hilariously at times. I had brought approximately 186 plastic spoons, each staring at me. Daring me. Assuring me they were ready to throw. The lights dimmed, and the audience erupted in a long, beautiful, electrifying round of applause. The applause stopped and started for every name, every "Tommy Wiseau" that passed across the opening credits, until finally erupting in a massive explosion of screams for the title.
The screening was nothing short of beautiful. Every scream of "MEANWHILE, IN SAN FRANCISCO", "BECAUSE YOU'RE A WOMAN", and "I PUT MY EVIL INSIDE OF YOU!" had me crying tears of joy. I missed half of them sadly, but I'm just using that as an excuse to absolutely go again. I felt beauty in every chant following the Golden Gate Bridge. I saw the breathtaking truth of my existence with every four-minute-too-long sex scene, during which the audience gladly sang along. You are my rose you are my rose you are my roseeeee.....
Okay, for those of you who don't actually know this movie, it follows Tommy Wiseau's strange and ethnically ambiguous character as he tries to cope with the everyday struggles of living with an unrecognizable accent. Oh and his wife is cheating on him with an unbelievably good looking guy named Mark, who completely out-sexy's the entire cast put together. "SESTOSTERONE!!" the audience would yell, referencing his name, Greg Sestero. And really...that's it. The movie jumps between forced character development, incredibly long and uncomfortable sex scenes, long, useless pan shots of San Francisco, awkward scenes of the "friends" playing football, and of course, the wonderfully poignant scenes of Lisa and her mother discussing her inability to do anything on her own, because of course, she is a woman. If you haven't seen this movie, might I recommend NOT watching it unless you are in a group of four or more people. Otherwise, you might find yourself sharing the fate of people who watch the video in The Ring...
Seriously though, seeing this film at midnight, surrounded by people who all loved to hate this movie, there really is nothing better. It brings out the best, and worst in people. Which...well, it leads me to a bit of a story.
While I was walking out of the theatre, I came across two guys faux dry humping on the movie theatre stairs. As I looked on, I became frustrated. Wiseau's character had sex with Lisa far slower, and (for some reason) the shot showed he was clearly making love to her belly button. Being the cinephile that I am, I made sure to say "Come on guys, slower and in the belly button!" This must have offended one of the lovers (ironically, named Mark), as he stood up and proceeded to yell "Okay, why don't you show us how it's done!?" I am not one to disappoint my many fans. So, I did what any sane person would do. I faux dry humped a strange mans belly button on movie theatre stairs surrounded by many a person screaming "you are my rose" at the top of my lungs. Yep. That happened. This is what the movie does to you, people. This is what it makes you.
Don't you want to be a part of it?
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