Review: The Disaster Artist
An uproarious tribute to a very special film, and the very special man who made it.
As a director, James Franco cannot seem to get a break. His feature films have been poorly received by critics and audiences alike. Perhaps this is because he frequently takes on difficult projects, including adaptations of celebrated “unadaptable” novels The Sound and the Fury, As I Lay Dying, and Child of God. Franco’s latest film is The Disaster Artist, an adaptation of Greg Sestero’s book of the same name, chronicling the production of the best ‘worst film of all time’ The Room. Tackling the role of mysterious director/writer/star Tommy Wiseau, Franco has finally found a subject whose misunderstood nature is aligned with his own, creating a wild experience.
Dave Franco stars across from his brother as Sestero, a young actor based in San Francisco on the hunt for his big break. This break comes in the form of Tommy Wiseau, an ethnically ambiguous, Dracula-like figure who promises to make Greg a star. Inspired by the works of Tennessee Williams, Wiseau writes The Room, and the two enter into a long, expensive, and troubled production.
The film – and Franco’s performance – succeeds due to a certain respect for Wiseau. He is the punch line of many jokes, yet Franco obviously has admiration for the man who stays true to his vision, despite the disapproval of his peers. Ultimately, The Disaster Artist is an uproarious tribute to a very special film, and the very special man who made it a reality.