What to say about this. You almost certainly won’t have seen it or even have heard of it for that matter, which is both a blessing and a travesty.
With the intonation of Simon Cowell: It is . . . quite simply . . . the worst thing I’ve ever seen.
It’s so monumentally bad I don’t even know where to start when I describe its terribleness. Is it the acting? The camera work? The retarded boy ‘Denny’? The Owen Wilson look/act-alike? No. It’s the script. All else stems from the script.
Before giving you a preview, I should first explain that nothing makes sense. Now watch . . .
I expect it left you with questions that you think the film will answer. It won’t. If anything, the film serves to further confuse matters. It can’t hold concentration on any one theme or plot development for more than a second without throwing it out, never to be seen again. It’s crazy directioness madness. You’d have more cohesion and linear story progression if you got a paranoid schizophrenic with ADHD to write it on crack binge. Ironically, the actual writer, Tommy Wiseau, (who is also the producer, executive producer, director and leading actor) looks like he may have been on one too many crack binges. His acting in the film oscillates from dead and lifeless to overblown and unbelievable. All delivered along with what has to be the most horribly unappealing voice ever to have appeared on screen; described best by IFC.com as “Borat trying to do an impression of Christopher Walken playing a mental patient.”
Aside from Wiseau, the rest of the cast lack direction and acting ability. They wander in to scenes to laboriously explain things to one another with as much zeal and panache as primary school children in a nativity play, before they mysteriously ‘have to go.’ This is interspersed by Tommy Wiseau (character name ‘Johnny’) laughing at inopportune moments, Mark (poor man’s Owen Wilson) saying, “Johnny’s my best friend”, or Johnny saying, “Mark’s my best friend”, or other characters repeating ad naseum, “Johnny’s a great guy”, which you could even begin to believe if he didn’t go on to laugh at a story about a woman being beaten up, before proclaiming “that’s a great anecdote!”. Behaviour of ‘a geat guy’, or psychotic misogynist?
It’s not just these irritating bits of filler though – if it was I could just ignore them like I do when watching most TV soaps – it’s the randomness of it all. The main plot is the love triangle between Johnny, Johnny’s ‘future wife’ Lisa (they don’t seem to be aware of the word fiancé) and Johnny’s ‘best friend’ Mark aka Owen Wilson. But, as I have mentioned there are many unnecessary subplots that develop spontaneously only to die equally as quickly. The most amazing of which has to be Lisa’s mum’s announcement, “I got the results of the test back. I definitely have breast cancer” which is delivered in the most blasé manner and then never mentioned again.
In addition to this there are a clutch of gag inducing sex scenes at the start, in which the naked, almost transparent white vampire flesh of Wiseau, is graphically depicted writhing on top of the poor jaded actress roped into playing his fiancé; another scene in which Lisa convinces the apparently tee-total Johnny to get drunk on what seems to be whisky with vodka mixer (not the easiest foray into the world of alcohol); and a bit of nonsense with a gun toting drug dealer on the roof.
Fortunately it ends on a good note; Johnny, shoots himself, which puts a kibosh on a sequel and also gives renewed hope to us all. Because if a man as seemingly inept as Tommy Wiseau can somehow raise $7 million to make a film, then surely anything is possible.