A sincerely entertaining two hours of inanity. A cinematic gumbo whose ingredients may have been taken straight out of the Narcissistic Personality Disorder section of the DSM-IV. A melodrama of manaical proportions. The Room is a preposterous attempt at film making, exhibiting an intriguing kind of ignorance, which it might be hard to imagine being the product of more than one especially demented mastermind.
However daunting the conundrum, if you get a chance to see Tommy Wiseau’s The Room with the boisterous midnight audience at the Red Vic, do not pass it up. Better yet, take 10 of your closest frenemies, being precisely those kindred you should not suffer too much in the severing. Watch, as the redemptive power of, “so bad, it’s good,” descends into the profane. Listen, as the chortling audience flings disastrously comedic insults at the screen. Feel, as the metaphorical flinging becomes physical, and your very person is assaulted with a barrage of flying plastic spoons.
This is that unique specimen of film exhibition that serves as one big inside joke. But don’t worry about feeling excluded, the Red Vic would love to let you in on it.
- The Room @ Red Victorian Movie House