Unlikely as it may seem, an independently-made, self-distributed movie has rolled into town, sans film festival pedigree or advance buzz, but armed with an ad campaign that includes billboards along Sunset Boulevard, television spots and a glossy, commemorative book on the movie’s making. “The Room” marks the writing-directing-acting debut of Tommy Wiseau, who’s not just one of the most unusual looking and sounding (with an unidentifiable Eastern European accent) leading men ever to grace the screen, but a narcissist nonpareil whose movie makes Vincent Gallo’s “The Brown Bunny” seem the apotheosis of cinematic self-restraint.
Given audience reaction at screening attended, pic may be something of a first: A movie that prompts most of its viewers to ask for their money back — before even 30 minutes have passed. Maybe that has something to do with the extreme unpleasantness of watching Wiseau (as banker Johnny) and actress Juliette Danielle (as his fiancee) engage in a series of soft-core sex scenes; or with the overall ludicrousness of a film whose primary goal, apparently, is to convince us that the freakish Wiseau is actually a normal, everyday sort of guy.
