Great Reads: "The Disaster Artist" by Greg Sestero

The Room. A film written by, directed by, produced by and indeed starring a man named Tommy Wiseau. It is widely regarded as the single worst film ever made, which is saying something considering there exists "Batman and Robin". However, such is the depth of the atrocity of this film that it has, somehow, against inconceivable odds, become a cult classic. Unbelievably, large cities all over the world, yes…the world, still continue to screen this film on a regular basis to this day and, seemingly long into the future.

This fact wouldn't be as miraculous as it is if you'd never seen a frame of this film. It can't be that bad? I hear you all think. After all, it is making money and people still flood to see it. You must be wondering.  Again, this attitude can only be held if you have never seen a frame of this film. I have. It is unbelievably crap. However, so spectacular, so unfathomable is the crapness that I found myself compelled beyond my will to not only watch it once, but watch it repeatedly over time, and indeed urge my friends to do that same. Why? I will never, ever know.

So, who is this strange, tasteless, talent-vortex, Tommy Wiseau? Therein lies the key question (one which remains unanswered) in this book. Written by Greg Sestero and Tom Bissell - although methinks I know who did the bulk of the work - this book tells the story of the making of The Room, through the eyes of Sestero himself. In the film, Greg plays the 'character' of Mark - named after Wiseau's favorite actor…Mark Damon. He also served as a line producer and seemingly only friend in the world to Tommy himself.

From the opening page, this book is laugh-out-loud-people-think-I'm-a-lunatic-on-the-train hilarious, and I do not use that term lightly. I have never in my life found myself buckled over, belly laughing, to the written page as much as I was here. From the moment that Sestero lays eyes on Mr. Wiseau in an acting class in San Francisco, absolute hilarity ensues. The two men - one a handsome model/rising starlet in the Hollywood scene, the other a deranged, lank-haired lunatic - forge one of the most bizarre friendships that has surely ever existed and went on to make one of the worst films of all time. Together. Despite being embroiled in a sort of personal cold war seemingly the entire time of knowing each other. Brilliant.

What makes this book so incredibly fascinating is down to several factors. One, the story of the film itself, which cost 6 million dollars to make, was self-financed by Tommy Wiseau (this despite no-one knowing where the money came from…to this day), saw three crews resign and has probably more plot-holes than I've had hot dinners. Yet, somehow, some way, it not only got made, but became a success. It's the stuff of Hollywood legend.

Two, the style of the narrative, which alternates between "present day" on set stuff from the making of the film itself and "flashback" stuff of Greg Sestero and his rise through the ranks of Hollywood, and I say that in the loosest possible terms, is a very interesting way to tell this story, the parallels between these two lives and the lives of many, many, people in this town are scarily frequent.

Finally, three, the use of two movies to illustrate the weird goings on transpiring before us. Those movies being the mighty "Sunset Boulevard" and "The Talented Mr. Ripley", neither of which could be more apt. The former being the dark Billy Wilder classic about a man who befriends an elderly former starlet, now in her twilight years, the latter being the one where Mark Damon does all sorts of bad shit.

It's a hilarious tale of ups, downs, heartbreaks, triumphs and some spectacularly unreasonable tantrums. But, above all, this book is about the sheer power of having a clear vision and being utterly unwavering in the belief you have in yourself. All you need is a weird accent, an unlimited bank balance and, apparently a complete and utter lack of self-awareness. As for an answer to the question 'who is Tommy Wiseau'? I don't think we'll ever know, and the world is a little bit better for it.

Please watch the film and read the book. Now. You will thank me for it.

JB.

Only God Forgives

Well well well, so it transpires that I have just watched what may be the most bonkers film I've laid eyes on in my life. Nicolas Windig Refn's follow-up to 2011's ultra cool, ultra violent, Ryan Gosling starring "Drive" is an even cooler, even more violent Gosling re-teaming and the results are quite astonishing.

Dialogue? No thanks.

Now, call me crazy but I am bored to tears with the same old tentpole, superhero, generic bollocks that studios are churning out these days (Avengers, I'm looking at you). It seems more than ever that the divide between box-office success and good films is becoming inescapably large. Edgy, innovative, original content is being pushed further under the rug and loud noisy fanfare VFX shite is all over the place. I mean honestly, 'White House Down'? Do me a f*cking favour.

Thus it is my eternal pleasure to report on a film that made a point of grabbing hold of me by the proverbials, dragging me through the sand and refusing to let go. It made me squeam, made me squirm, made me laugh (unintentionally), made me cower, made me gasp and ultimately left me completely drained by the end. No real action to speak of, no noise, no special effects, no punchy dialogue (the entire script must've been about four pages long), the camera moves in an almost painfully slow, methodical way during each equally methodical scene, however this only goes to show that you need not the "ooo's" and "ahhs" typically associated with a movie-going experience to get something from it.

The plot is loosely based around a crime family operating out of Bangkok. Gosling, in mad silent mode, plays the youngest of three lunatic brothers who is charged with avenging one of their deaths. However, on the other side of the law is a man simply known as "The Angel of Death" who maraudes around the neon-drenched underworld handing out his own punishments to all who cross his path. The two are set on a collision course by Gosling's diabolical mother (played brilliantly by Kristen Scott Thomas) and there you have it. Pretty simple fare, right? Wrong.

Dream sequences, gruesome murders, torture, implied incest, completely random screaming and some first class battery are all shot and executed in such a way that completely blindsides you. It's like being in a terrible, terrible nightmare for 90 minutes, then being woken up by a lunatic singing karaoke. It is a completely brutal, unflinching portrayal of life in the underworld and has a claustrophobic, grim, blackness to it that I imagine people wrapped up in that side of life feel on a daily basis.

Refn is proving to be quite a master of his craft. I thought 'Drive' was basically a standard gangster plot but directed with such perfection that it elevated the film to a new level entirely. Something only a few people on earth are capable of. He does the same again here. The camera is smooth and steady. Every single frame is meticulously put together. The cinematography is absolutely outstanding -- possibly the best I've ever seen. Every shot looks like a painting. You could literally take any freeze frame from any scene and it would hang happily on your wall. The music is also great. At times very unsettling, at times pulsating, it subtly adds to the dread in the air quite beautifully.

"Wax on"....etc

When it premiered at Cannes this year, apparently half of the crowd booed and half gave it a standing ovation, and that really couldn't sum this film up more accurately. I can imagine many, many people thinking it's the worst film ever made, however, by the same token, I think if you appreciate cinema in any way, it'll be a treat that gets better with age. There are scenes which are beyond ridiculous (the dinner with mum and whore scene alone stands-out) but in the best possible way. It panders to no-one. Instead, Refn is just hanging his bollocks right there on the screen for all to see and screaming "have a load of that". Fair play, my friend. Fair play.

Much like last year's "Amour" I am completely shocked, appalled, and totally in awe of this piece of work. Also like "Amour", despite my love for it, I'm in no rush to ever see it again.

Over and out.

JB.