James Franco is finally a true artist
When I first read that James Franco was to direct himself as Tommy Wiseau, the genius mastermind behind one of the most notoriously bad films of all time, The Room, I reacted with a resounding eye roll. Sure, Franco has given some genuinely great performances in the past (Spring Breakers, umm, Spider-Man 3), but too often he gets caught up in trying to present himself as ART. Outlandish performance art projects and mildly impressive arthouse films such as Interior. Leather Bar worked at presenting himself as a ‘serious Artist’, but made it easy to dismiss the man’s legitimate talent. Hearing that he would be directing The Disaster Artist completely in character made me terrified that this would be another self-indulgent vanity project.
Mercifully, my mind was put at ease about 7 minutes into The Disaster Artist, at which point it became clear; Franco isn’t in this just for his own pursuit of artistic enlightenment. The Disaster Artist is passionate and soulful; a respectful tribute to Wiseau himself, but more so a film that wants to make you laugh and charm you with its heart of gold. Aptly, it touches on the pursuit of artistry and the effects that bring along with it. It’s also one of the best films about filmmaking ever made; one that perfectly encapsulates the joys and the hardships of making films, which, as an aspiring filmmaker, hit a sweet spot.
The film is not directly based on the making of The Room but rather a memoir on its production, 2013’s The Disaster Artist: My Life Inside The Room, the Greatest Bad Film Ever Made (it’s excellent, read it). That book was written by Greg Sestero, who plays Mark in The Room and is here played by Dave Franco. We begin in 1998. Greg is a fresh faced student attempting to make it in the acting world. He attends an acting class. After his audition doesn’t go too well, a mysterious, sunglass-clad man volunteers to perform. This would be Franco’s Tommy Wiseau. Tommy doesn’t so much act as much as he (literally) tears up the stage. Something about his passion resonates with Greg, and before they know it, they befriend each other and eventually move to L.A., with the hope of pursuing their acting dreams. After constant drawbacks and rejection, Tommy and Greg decide to make their own movie. And thus, cinematic history was born…
It kind of goes without saying if you’ve seen the trailers for The Disaster Artist that Franco absolutely disappears into his role as Wiseau. Impressive prosthetics and make up uncannily mirrors Wiseau’s actual likeness, and Franco absolutely nails his mannerisms and vocal tics (his unmistakable laugh is dead-on). More important than this, however, is that Franco ensures that this elusive and strange figure remains a 3-dimensional character whilst also keeping that mysteriousness. The film doesn’t stint on the fact that Wiseau did some terrible things whilst making the film (and after). While the real life Wiseau’s moral make-up might be up for debate, on screen it’s important that we also feel a sense of empathy for him as well. And this is where Franco really nails the theme of friendship that pulses throughout the film. Friendship isn’t always rainbows and happiness, and that juxtaposition gives the film an underlying sense of melancholy. Franco’s counterbalanced to perfection by brother Dave, who has the less showy, more nuanced job here, of which he pulls off to great effect. Franco and co. are also armed with an impressive plethora of cameos and supporting actors, a field that ranges from Josh Hutcherson to Jacki Weaver.
Screenwriters Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber lace their frequently funny and always affecting script with plenty of Room in-jokes that will appease fans, as well as bitingly funny (and realistic) commentary about the highs and lows of filmmaking that will satisfy the less Room-initiated. Most importantly, Neustadter and Weber capture the spirit of the book almost identically. Sestero’s book had the perfect balance of humour, intrigue, sadness and inspiration, something that is mirrored into the film. Like you did the book, you’ll come away from it with more questions about Wiseau than you did going in, such is the intoxicating nature of…The Room universe? (Let’s just call it that.)
The one question I feel will get asked often (one that I’ve certainly been asked many times) is if it’s necessary to have seen The Room before seeing The Disaster Artist. To that question, I have two answers: What are you doing with your life, and not really. You’ll unquestionably get a lot more out of seeing scenes from The Room come to life in meticulous detail if you are familiar with it, but Franco ensures that the film’s main agenda is something more universal. Running through its core is that sweet and authentic ode to friendship, and even when the film (very occasionally) missteps, it’s beating heart is the thing you come back to. What’s crucial to the film’s overall effect, is that while the film finds great humour in the elusiveness and questionable nature of Wiseau, Franco never falls into condescension. You’re laughing at Wiseau, yes, but never in a mean-spirited way. It works as a great reminder to consider the artist behind the art, talented or lack thereof.
While it works as creating both an intimate and an outward-reaching story, Franco’s unshowy direction occasionally glazes the film with somewhat of a glossy sheen, dulling its impact ever so slightly. You have to commend Franco for creating such an involving and intimate story about friendship, but you almost wish the stakes were just that little bit higher so the film could hit you more. If it sounds like I’m nit picking, I am, because it’s hard to find much fault in The Disaster Artist. This might be amplified by the fact that I saw the film with a sold out crowd of Room devotees with Sestero himself in attendance (absolutely the most fun I’ve had in the cinema all year), but the fact remains; Franco and co. have crafted an inspiring, bizarre, hilarious and sweet-natured crowd pleaser, one that will connect with almost everyone in some way, whether that be something to do with friendship, filmmaking, or simply just trying to make it. Who knew bad could be so good?