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.”