So apparently, I've been living in a hermetically sealed bubble for the last few years, because I've never heard of "The Room," a 2003 independent film that has become something of a "Rocky Horror"-esque late night hit.
The first I heard about it was this morning in an article on Boston.Com about the film's current run at the Coolidge Corner movie house.
Described by one film professor as "the Citizen Kane of bad movies," it was bankrolled by its somewhat mysterious writer, director, and star, a guy by the name of Tommy Wiseau.
The plot seems to concern a love triangle between Johnny (played by Wiseau), his best friend Mark, and Johnny's "future wife" Lisa, who is having an affair with Mark.
It also appears obvious he made the movie as a serious drama, but is content to ride the wave of its second life as something to be laughed at by college kids and professional comedians.
You can read more about it here and here. Some pretty interesting stuff.
But what struck me most about it was it made me incredibly sad.
As a writer, you never really do know if something you've written is good or not. And though I believe writerly angst is somewhat overdone, anyone who has tried their hand at anything creative has to have some doubts.
What if I've already created my own "The Room" and simply don't know it yet?
And would I be as magnanimous as this guy?
Anyway, here's to you, Tommy Wiseau. You've already accomplished more than most of us do in a lifetime.