Review: The Disaster Artist (2017)
The Disaster Artist (2017, dir. James Franco)
My regards to James and Dave Franco for their incredible takes on the Tommy Wiseau and Greg Sestero we all know and love from The Room. Unfortunately, I don’t have many other nice things to say about this The Disaster Artist.
This Apatow-derivative buddy comedy never felt fleshed out enough for me to suspend disbelief. I never did read the source material—Sestero’s book The Disaster Artist—but I’d be shocked if this didn’t over-simplify and composite the shit out of what really happened. Having spoken to someone who has read the book, it seems like this is the case.
This movie was supposed to make me feel like I was behind the scenes on one of the most infamous 21st century bad-movie sets. And while I was “in on the jokes,” nodding in recognition as actors re-performed my favourite parts from The Room, the laughs didn’t feel earned. My being in on the jokes actually made me wonder: was this movie pulling any of its own weight?
I felt dirty laughing at Tommy Wiseau. Yeah, he is unbelievably weird, but the script treated him more often as the punchline. I wish I had felt more discomfort and anguish between Tommy and the rest of the world. This movie fails to understand him. 😢