The Disaster Artist

Oh hi, grade: B+

In June 2003, a movie called The Room premiered. It was written, directed, produced, and starred Tommy Wiseau, a man of unknown age and an ambiguous eastern European accent. The Room was unintentionally funny in every way, and has achieved a cult following as one of the best worst movies ever made, with regular screenings all over the world, Rocky Horror style. Wiseau, who set out to make a serious piece (the original tagline was “a film with the passion of Tennessee Williams”), upon seeing audiences’ reactions, backpedaled and claimed he intended it to be a comedy all along.

We now arrive at the new film The Disaster Artist, which is based on the book of the same name by Greg Sestero, a co-star of The Room.

Much like what Wiseau did with his movie, The Disaster Artist is directed by James Franco, who also stars as Tommy Wiseau. His brother Dave Franco plays Greg Sestero. We are taken on a journey from when Sestero met Wiseau in an acting class in 1998, all the way up to The Room’s premiere. I was afraid it would play like an extended version of a bad SNL sketch – no substance, and annoying impressions. I needn’t have worried. It has heart, charm, and a tangible and discernible through-line about friendship, commitment, and following your dreams, no matter how far-fetched or outlandish they seemed. We never really get inside Wiseau’s world, much less find out how old he is, where he’s from, how he got the money to make this movie, what makes him tick, or whether or not he’s a vampire – and critics have been rightfully frustrated by that. But perhaps his power is in his mystery, and the cast, led by the marvelous Franco brothers, are eerily faithful to the source material. This is fascinating and fun stuff, with plenty of laughs. And there is a scene at the end of the credits you should stay for.

Here’s to the fools who dream, indeed.

Oh hi, grade: B+