by Chris Feil
It takes a particular kind of cinematic appreciation to love bad movies. For some, there can be a special charm to misguided clunkers and turkeys of only the best intentions. There is a stark difference between laughing at something and laughing with something. The Room has been one of the more recent additions to the beloved trash cinema pantheon and stands as a fascinating psychological testament to its creator and star Tommy Wiseau. As told on the page by Wiseau’s costar and close friend Greg Sestero, the making of the film was as haphazard as you expect.
The risk of The Disaster Artist, adapted from Sestero’s book, is confusing the affection or morbid fascination of The Room’s fanbase for something mockingly mean-spirited. Luckily the film is built on love for its subject, as directed by James Franco who also stars as Wiseau...
Wiseau’s bizarre creation and limited ability make for natural comic fodder, but the film doesn’t contradict itself in its admiration for Wiseau’s big dreams for the sake of laughs. Like the best films on Hollywood fantasies fulfilled, The Disaster Artist succeeds by wearing its heart on its sleeve. Though yes, it is very funny.
The film itself feels like a labor of love with a cast bursting with cameos. There’s a communal tone here that also helps prevent condescension - imagine Franco calling in a favor to all of the friends he might have experienced Wiseau’s film with. There’s a contagious enthusiasm onscreen, both for The Room’s oddness and the spirit of upstart moviemaking with those that share your dreams.
Despite an arch characterization, James Franco is more loose and limber than he has been in years. In playing someone who lacks self-awareness, Franco has dropped his own that's mired much of his recent work. There’s no mocking in his complete immersion either; the actor nails the interminable dialect and evasive but passionate demeanor that make Wiseau one tough character to crack. You needn’t be familiar with the real man’s peculiarities to be impressed by the performance, though it is often eerily close. The film is safely Franco’s most accessible directorial effort, the dual roles perhaps a crucial element in unlocking the size of Wiseau’s effort.
Dave Franco as Sestero is well suited to his everyman blandness and goodwill, rightfully deferring attention to the elder sibling as straight man to the comedy. While the celebrity cameos become marginally distracting, there is some snappy and effective world-building from one-scene wonders like Sharon Stone and Melanie Griffith (yes, you read that right). But this is largely James Franco’s show and it’s a performance to charm even the most virulent detractors.
The film’s contrived and not-so-historically accurate finale is weighed by feel-good movie machinations that it need not rely on. This is maybe the same lack of confidence that stirred the clunky famous face intro to help sell The Room to the audience. The film isn’t too sure that we’ll know its origins or that Disaster Artist can stand on its own narrative merit. Considering that it wholeheartedly can, and not just for Wiseau fans and familiars, one wishes that they had a little more faith in the audience and themselves.
The Disaster Artist is sweet and brisk biotragicomedy that gets why we love (or should love) its subject. At its best, it may even give some of the crueler Wiseau mocker's some new understanding. Oh hi, crowd pleaser.
Grade: B