After spawning a clothing line, video game tribute, page after page of online discussion and a legion of fans, Tommy Wiseau's cult favourite The Room finally makes its way to the Uptown Theatre on Feb. 12.
Considered by many to be one of the worst films ever produced, bad movie fans who have somehow overlooked this 2003 gem owe it to themselves to grab some spoons and say "hai" to Wiseau's masterpiece.
The film has a bizarre plot and even more bizarre production history-- it was somehow produced, written, directed and starred in by Wiseau at an astronomical cost of $6 million.
Though the goblin-faced creator has mumbled in his unintelligble, proto-English to interviewers that he raised the funds importing leather jackets from Korea, it's ultimately irrelevant as any sane person watching the movie will be hard-pressed to fathom more than $1,000 being spent on its creation. (Though in his defense, Wiseau has stated his entire crew quit on him twice and had to be replaced. He also legendarily rented a billboard in Los Angeles for five years after The Room's release).
Clearly the product of a deranged mind, The Room is Wiseau's attempt to exorcise the demons of a previous relationship.
Wiseau "plays" Johnny, an inexplicably well-liked, 40-something banker who enjoys tossing footballs on roofs, wearing oversized blazer and cargo pant ensembles and croaking out what the audience is expected to believe is a laugh at every inopportune moment.
The movis focuses on him and his "future wife" Lisa, a chubby temptress who appears be in her late teens. She is equally inexplicable and is committed to both cheating on Johnny whenever possible, while simultaneously being upset when someone is unable to come to the fabulous birthday party she's throwing for him.
The Room is bevy with impossibilities which promise to draw out either profound amusement or, in a small minority, bitter frustration.
Seemingly important plot points, such as Lisa's mother's casual discovery of breast cancer, are raised and dropped as often as you see Wiseau's own chiseled, lizard-like buttocks in the movie's frequent and uncomfortably long sex scenes. Characters are also introduced and then ignored willy-nilly, further convoluting the scattered plot.
One could go on for days describing more of the absurdity-- like Wiseau's blatant re-dubbing of his own voice with dialogue that remains almost unintelligible-- but you're best to survive it yourself.
The Uptown screening is part of a phenomenon that's seen the movie turn into a Rocky Horror-type of free-for-all across North America, which prompted Wiseau to insist that he always intended the film to be a comedy-- a claim that's about as convincing as his chicken impression ("peep peep peeeahhh...")