The Midnight Society,
By Zachary Stein.
There is something special happening in Oakland, an
unexplained cinematic phenomenon that is held in the highest of regard by the
select audience fortunate enough to experience this “eclectic” monthly event.
For those unfamiliar with Tommy Wisseau’s independently produced 2003 film The Room, do yourself a favor; don’t
take the lazy route like so many are prone to do and watch the film in the
comfort of your own home. As the film industry bends over backwards to meet the
convenience of the audience, there are a good number of “Cinerds” (I coined
this one) who will not substitute their theatrical viewing for all the
pixelated splendors of the web-driven buffered image. The Room demands the type of prestigious audience driven
presentation that it receives at midnight on the third Saturday of every month
at the historic Piedmont theatre.
Not that it matters, but some context may be helpful. The Room is a very basic San Francisco
set love triangle starring Tommy Wisseau as Johnny, the lead character being
cuckolded by his girlfriend Lisa (Juliette Danielle), and his best friend Mark
(Greg Sestero). There are many other subplots introduced and quickly abandoned
such as drug deals gone wrong, terminal illnesses and so on. As the writer and
director, Tommy becomes his own narcissistic Superman of the film, his
character Johnny is an all-around good guy adored by all. He pays and cares for
a feckless orphan boy called Denny (Phillip Haldiman) who seems to suddenly
appear and exit in several scenes without reason. Instead of vilifying Tommy
for such a clumsy vanity project the crowd embraces him; he is cheered on for
his heroics and emotional fragility. On the other hand the character Lisa, who
sets back women’s liberation indefinitely, is completely ripped to shreds by an
audience who are savvy enough to appreciate the absurdity.
To settle any speculation; yes, objectively The Room is not a “good” film, but its
merits are upheld to the passion of the creative force behind it. One will
never fathom how this simplistic tale managed to acquire a budget of $6
million, and certainly the money is not on screen. The Room is one of those rare gems of “bad” movies, existing from
the mind of a filmmaker whose vision and voice has been codified by an amalgam
of pop culture filmic tropes. The way scenes are constructed and the manner in
which they unravel represent a disconnect in the perception of the American way
of life through the screen, all processed and misunderstood by the enigma that
is Tommy Wisseau. A brief search online
pinpoints this man’s origin from Louisiana by way of Europe, although I like to
think of him as an organic creation mutating from the cutting room floor of
T.V. movie.
Whilst this may come off as an insult to Mr Wisseau I
actually have the upmost respect for what his film has become, it takes a
certain type of unadjusted, to be able to create something which quickly became
known as “the worst movie ever made” and then embrace that designation. Tommy
often makes appearances around the country to thank fans as they lampoon and
tear apart his labor of love with the utmost respect and adoration. Released in
a very limited run, it was quickly pulled after a few weeks, but enough people
had seen it for traction to build. It made its impact in the no-holds-barred
midnight circuit where it took on an audience-interactive Rocky Horroresque
mode. All around the world special midnight showings of The Room pack in the crowds ready to take part in the unique
experience.
It’s here where my opening line (stolen from Moneyball) loses its authenticity, as
the film is globally ridiculed and adored, although I’m sure the Piedmont must
be one of the only venues still regularly showing it. The Room opens the discussion of the theatrical experience and
what can be done to maintain its popularity. These immersive audience presentations
are not a new thing, it all dates back to induction of added spectacle with the
advent of 3-D, Cinerama, Vista-Vision and other more gimmicky methods such as
“Percepto!” for William Castle’s The
Tingler (1959) or “Odorama” for John Waters Polyester (1981). The Rocky
Horror Picture Show (1975) has been running revival shows with live dancers
in drag for years, and sing-along features like The Sound of Music (1965) and Grease
(1978) have also been very prominent.
Whilst The Room was never intended
for such theatrical modes it has found its own specialized audience of
devotee’s who understand that the work is a unique product that cannot be
emulated. The secret of the films warped success seems to lie in the fact that
it is earnestly trying to be legitimate; the lavish, clumsy use of green-screen
and the extensive original sound track are enough to show the effort of the
filmmakers.
The Room in
“Spoon-o-Rama” (again that one’s mine) is definitely this generation’s cult audience-engagement
movie. The jokes that have grown out of these showings required multiple
dedicated viewings by a legion of fans to build to the densely comical
presentation it is presently at. The base running joke throughout the screening
involves the audience hurling a barrage of plastic spoons in the air whenever
the unexplained framed photo of cutlery appears. It is this kind of attention
to detail that many of the jokes seem to stem from, not just a communal bashing
of the lackluster acting. This may be why the screenings are so enjoyable; the
actors and the story are easy targets for the cinematic vultures. Instead the
audience will call attention to the filmmaking present, particularly the
editing; the overused establishing shots of San Francisco are coupled with the
bellowing in unison of “meanwhile in San Francisco,” giving insight into the
collective perception of the film as being an equivalent to a melodramatic soap
opera. A giant chant begins during a horrifically long transition as the camera
pans from one side of the golden gate bridge to the other, the screening
quickly morphs into a day at the races. It’s also important to mention that as
the years have gone by the jokes have also evolved; in the beginning whenever a
shot would be too fuzzy, the audience would scream “focus!” This has now
modified to the audience calling out the films cinematographer with a
passionate cry of “fuck you Todd!” These are however only the basic jokes
present at each screening, because I would feel terrible if I robbed someone of
the discovery that can be had at one’s first midnight screening of The Room I’ll stop here, but there are
plenty other things to note down.
As we are entering a time of media saturation, it would seem
that many films and television shows are simply made to be consumed, enjoyed,
and quickly forgotten. The fact that Wisseau’s film is still lovingly appreciated
by so many is a difficult thing to come to terms with. One distinction offered
to The Room is being “the Citizen Kane of bad movies” and the
contrast to Orson Welles is rather interesting. Whilst Wells career peaked
early and suffered from bad reviews, failed ambitious productions and a
tarnished reputation causing a lack of funding, Wisseau has seemed to excel on
his lack of expertise, it would appear that the failure has bought success. I
won’t say it is an inspirational tale but it does show what can happen when all
hope appears to be lost. Wisseau has announced many follow up projects such as “Wisseau
TV” but these have yet to have much of an impact. Like Welles and Kane, Wisseau will always be remembered for The Room, and will most likely always try and live off it its cult
status.
As most screenings these days are marred by noisy seniors
and kids on cellphones, many are turning to the comfort of their own homes, I
however, am happy to spend my time in the beer fuelled theatre joined by a
bunch of film nerds throwing spoons in the air and chanting for Tommy to “fuck
that dress.”
