The most famous bad movie of all time returns to screens in Vancouver, along with a new offering from director Tommy Wiseau
Gwen Pemberton (she/her) // Features Editor
Ava Shahres (they/she) // Illustrator
Shouts drown out the dialogue on screen. Plastic spoons bounce off the walls and the backs of seats. Laughter punctuates every single dramatic beat. It’s movie theatre mayhem at the Rio on this smoky, sticky August evening, and not one person inside would have it any other way.
On August 8, the Rio Theatre hosted a double bill of two films by writer, producer, star, director and enigma, Tommy Wiseau. First was Wiseau’s newest project, the 2023 thriller Big Shark. Then came the main event.
The infamous 2003 cult classic, The Room, may be the most famous so-bad-it’s-good movie ever made. And right in the middle of it all was Greg Sestero, who plays Mark in the film. No last name. As he took the stage before the lights went down, he was greeted in the best way fans of the movie knew how; “Oh, hi Mark!”
This is far from Sestero’s first rodeo at the Rio. By his own estimate, he has been hosting screenings and Q&A’s of The Room at the theatre an average of once per year since 2013. Sestero has found stardom through the movie, although maybe not in the way he expected.
Not only has his book about his experience on the set, The Disaster Artist, become a bestseller, it has also spawned an Oscar nominated film of the same name, starring James and Dave Franco as Wiseau and Sestero respectively. “Mentioning an Oscar nomination with anything to do with The Room makes me concerned for humanity.” joked Sestero during the Q&A.
When you sit down to watch The Room, you become a part of an experience that comes with its own set of ever-growing rituals. Whenever one of the numerous panning shots began, so too did the gleeful chants of, “Go! Go! Go! Go!” Whenever water appeared on screen, a raucous shout of “Water!” quickly followed. Whenever a character did a mocking impression of a chicken—which happens more than you would think possible—the audience joined right in. And of course, the spoons. They rained down mercilessly each time a spoon appeared in the background, and if you were to run out, it didn’t matter. There were bound to be plenty littering the ground at your feet, or lodged in your armrest next to your popcorn.
If you’ve never seen The Room before, it can be hard to explain. From the awkward performances to nonsensical dialogue, painfully obvious ADR and a plot that somehow manages to simultaneously crawl along and move at break-neck pace, it is a movie unlike any other.
Although not as well known as its predecessor, it would be a mistake to leave Wiseau’s new film, Big Shark, out of the conversation. If it was possible, the film may be even more baffling than its predecessor. Complete with random bursts of a cappella singing and a CGI shark that can seemingly appear and disappear at will, the movie delivered exactly what the audience was looking for: a good time. By the end, the audience was cheering, laughing—and singing—along. The audience became the soundtrack, as Sestero put it.
The experience of watching these movies with an audience is one that has to be seen to be believed. In the crowd were many first time viewers, but just as many had returned for a second—or third, or fourth—time. In the aisles people were dancing, taking pictures and chatting excitedly. Many sported T-shirts emblazoned with the titular big shark, or Wiseau passionately announcing, “You’re tearing me apart, Lisa!”
In between screenings, Sestero signed copies of his book and posed for pictures with fans. In the crowd, I heard Wiseau compared to Mozart, Shakespeare and Picasso. “There’s nothing like seeing [The Room] at the Rio,” said UBC student and one of the most enthusiastic participants of the evening, Yuma Sudo.
Back in 2003, when The Room began its two week long run in theatres—which Wiseau arranged specifically so that his movie would be eligible for the Academy Awards—no one would have believed that it would become so popular, least of all Sestero. “I’m sitting in the fourth row [at the L.A. premiere] and suddenly it’s not funny anymore,” he said. Unable to sit through the movie, Sestero retreated into the lobby a few minutes into the film. Walkouts began soon after. As they left, Sestero said he heard someone say, “Man, I haven’t seen shit like that in years.”
And neither, it seems, had anyone else. Two weeks after the premiere, some L.A. film students saw a review of the movie that said “watching this film is like getting stabbed in the head.” Just like that, a cult was born. After the first private screenings in L.A. which were arranged by the students, The Room began to spread across the U.S., becoming more and more infamous as it went.
Once the Rio began hosting midnight showings of The Room, rumblings about the incredible crowds at the theatre eventually reached Sestero, who had been making appearances at screenings for a few years by that time. After his first visit to the Vancouver theatre, a book signing in 2013, he has made many subsequent appearances. “There’s just something special here,” he said. He visited so many times in fact, that the theatre became a permanent part of the film’s history.
When James Franco was in Vancouver shooting The Interview, he attended a screening of The Room at the Rio, which Sestero was hosting. There were rumours that he had read The Disaster Artist, loved it, and was interested in turning it into a film. Dressed incognito with a baseball cap pulled down on his head, it wasn’t until after the show that Franco approached Sestero and said, “I love your story. Let’s make this movie.” Apparently the experience of the Rio itself affected Franco as well. After catching up with him recently, Sestero says that Franco still talks about how, “They don’t do it anywhere like the Rio.”
Cult film screenings like this one are a unique experience. To share in the joy of movies like The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Donnie Darko, and, of course, The Room, is to share in a collective adventure. Watching with an audience fundamentally changes the viewing experience and produces an experience more akin to a theme park ride than a movie, which is what makes it so special. As the lights dimmed, you could practically hear the buzz of anticipation, and once the ride began, it didn’t let up steam until the credits rolled. The story behind the making of the film is legendary, but so is the way that it was embraced whole-heartedly by audiences around the world. Leaving the theatre, you could feel how much the experience meant to those in attendance. To quote one disgruntled movie-goer from 2003, “I haven’t seen shit like that in years.”
