The Citizen Kane of bad movies

After several months of cajoling from friends, I finally sat down to watch "The Room" at the weekend.

Now I love a bad movie more than most, almost as much as a good one. Watching a bad movie with friends is a much more social activity than watching something that you're actually interested in. When you care about what you're watching you don't want people interrupting you or asking you questions or making jokes. When you're watching a bad movie, that's all part of the experience. That's why my DVD collection features a smattering of Godfrey Ho, washed down with a big dollop of Mark Dacascos.

Knowing my fondness for watching absolute crap with my friends, a colleague at work had recommended that I bring "The Room" to the proverbial table for our next Shite Movie Saturday. After it was described to me as the "Citizen Kane" of bad movies, the bar was already set pretty high.

And "The Room" did not disappoint.

A wonderful hybrid of horrible acting, bad dubbing, unnecessary sex scenes, ridiculous writing and hideous direction, this film failed on all levels. And I loved it for it.

Even greater was the startling amount of needless plot points that were raised once and then never revisited:

- What happened with Lisa's uncle trying to take the Mum's house?

- What happened with Denny's drug addiction?

- Does Chris R (somewhat of a pointless last initial there) still want Denny dead?

- What was happening with the Mum's breast cancer?

- Who's the dude that only shows up in the last ten minutes yet seems to be everyone's best friend?
- Why are they playing football in tuxes?
- Why did Wiseau give himself two production credits?

The dialogue was laughable, and yet instantly quotable - "Oh hai Mark" will surely be my new stock greeting. "As far as I'm concerned, you can just drop off the face of the earth. And that's a promise" was my personal favourite. I'm sure the more a rewatch this misjudged masterpiece, the more lines I'll add to my repertoire.

All in all, I can't recommend the film that Tommy Wiseau wrote, produced, executive produced (I wasn't kidding), directed and starred in enough. By the end, I genuinely couldn't tell if he was pulling my leg, or if he just has more money than sense.

Either way, it's one to watch with a big group of friends and an even bigger stash of alcohol.

Just make sure you don't end up in a hospital on Guerrero Street. That'll make sense later.