The Cult of The Room

Honorary General Secretary Shariffah Ili Hamraa dissects Tommy Wiseau’s The Room (2003) and explores what gives it its cult status.

The Room (2003), directed, produced, and starred by the enigmatic Tommy Wiseau, has been hailed as the “Citizen Kane of bad movies” (Collis, 2008). Despite the film tanking at the time of its initial release in the summer of 2003, the film has come a long way since. From a commercial failure to a cult phenomenon, the film has gone through a curious yet extraordinary trajectory. Two decades post-release, it has persisted in the public consciousness. Transcending traditional notions of quality, the film has come to be a quintessential cult sensation. Beyond being a film to be seen, The Room is also an experience to be lived. What caused The Room’s peculiar yet incredible journey towards becoming a cult classic, and what is this phenomenon of “so bad it’s good” films?

The Room as a “so-bad-it’s-good” film

The Room’s plot is so absurd it feels almost profane to summarise it in a paragraph. The film follows Johnny (Tommy Wiseau), a successful banker. He lives with his fiancée Lisa (Juliette Danielle), who starts an affair with his best friend Mark (Greg Sostero) as she feels dissatisfied with Johnny. Meanwhile, amidst this central plot, secondary characters such as Denny, a young man Johnny mentors, and a group of friends, navigate their minor subplots. The film ends tragically with Johnny shooting himself in the head after listening to a cassette tape recording detailing Lisa’s affair with Mark.

The film was unsurprisingly a box office bomb. It cost 6 million USD to produce, yet only garnered a measly 1900 USD in box office revenue during its two-week run in theatres. According to Foundas (2003), the film “(prompted) most of its viewers to ask for their money back — before even 30 minutes have passed.” The Room seemed destined for failure, until Michael Rousselet, the suspected patient zero who pioneered the film’s cult (Collis, 2008). He first caught the movie at an empty theatre and then called his friends to come see the film. From just word of mouth, Rousselet managed to bring over 100 people to see the film over a few days, kickstarting the ritual of throwing spoons. Hundreds of fans began to flood Wiseau’s email inbox praising the film. This marked the genesis of the cult fanbase, compelling Wiseau to organise monthly midnight screenings of the film, which Hunter (2016) posits was a “crucible of cult in the 1970s… (catering) to young hip repeat audiences”. Wiseau also frequently attended these screenings and held Q&A sessions and talks with fans. (Foy, 2012)

The Room has even found its place in filmic discourse. Ross Morin, an assistant professor of film studies, says The Room is “one of the most important films of the past decade”, going even further to say it “is the Citizen Kane of bad movies.” (Collis, 2008) Evidently, The Room has found its place in the canon, among a pantheon of other cult classics – albeit for reasons not so typical.

How The Room fulfils cult criteria

Hunter (2016) asserts that “cult films are still mostly unconventional small-scale, often independent movies that were overlooked or undervalued on initial release and built up a long-term, and somewhat exclusive, following through word of mouth.” According to this definition, The Room is a cult film – it has an unconventional and absurdist plot, it was independently made, and it gained immense popularity over time through word of mouth.

On the other hand, we can also refer to Bentley-Baker’s (2010) checklist for determining “cult film” status to see whether The Room fulfils the standards of a cult film.

The Room can be said to fulfil the criteria of ‘Marginality’, ‘Economics’, ‘Cult following’, ‘Community’, ‘Quotation’, and ‘Iconography’ in the following ways:

Marginality

The Room goes against the conventions of storytelling. Characters behave bizarrely and speak in an outlandish manner. Subplots (e.g. Lisa’s mum having cancer) are brought up in passing and go on to be unresolved. Gratuitous sex scenes that do little to further the plot go on for far too long. The meat of the 99-minute film lies in its first and last 10 minutes, while everything else reads as superfluous and nonsensical.

Economics

The film did not achieve commercial success in the wake of its theatrical release. However, as the film gained popularity through word of mouth, and more screenings of the film were shown, it grew to be more profitable in the long run, with box office sales totaling almost 5 million USD (Box Office Mojo, 2023).

Cult following

Through word of mouth, a loyal and devoted fanbase was cultivated. The fanbase participates in repeated viewings where they engage in shared practices and rituals (e.g. heckling, throwing plastic spoons, chanting lines, etc.). The Room hence became a communal experience to be lived by the audience who have already established themselves as fans of the film, cognisant of audience participation scripts entailing the rituals inherent to the watching experience.

Community

The Room’s fanbase is mostly comprised of younger cinephilic audiences who have an ironic appreciation for the film and resonate with it due to its internet popularity and the memes that have surrounded the film. 

Quotation

The film is riddled with memorable, iconic quotes like "Oh, hi Mark" and "You're tearing me apart, Lisa!" These quotable one-liners have become a part of the fanbase’s lexicon.

Iconography

The Room has established Wiseau as an icon. The actor-director possesses an unconventional charm, where his idiosyncratic behaviour, prominent likeness (dark long hair and sunglasses), and mysterious background has elevated him to iconic status. Wiseau is an enigmatic figure, whose background is largely unknown. Wiseau’s “vaguely Eastern European accent”, coupled with his aversion to answering questions about his past (Stroud, 2013), and even his unexplained wealth, adds to his aura of mystery. This reifies his status as an icon, compelling cult fans to want to know more about him, and find ways to satiate their curiosity.

The cult of The Room 

The Room’s journey in becoming a cult classic is a confounding yet phenomenal one. It redefines the boundaries of cult cinema and challenges our notions of what a cult film can be, where a film’s shortcomings are the very reason for its popularity and fanbase.

As mentioned earlier, The Room is not just a film to be watched, but rather a commodity to be experienced. Watching a bad film on purpose might be perplexing, but there are reasons for the appeal of “so-bad-it’s-good” films, and cult fans’ ironic appreciation of a bad film. The Room falls under ‘paracinema’, which is a viewing protocol where “a film is enjoyed, not in spite of its perceived flaws, but because of them” (Wikström, 2020). Paracinematic viewers relish in the subversive.

The cult of The Room is seen as a lived experience as posited by Hunter (2016) in the way the film 1) responds to the counterculture audience’s need for a safe space, 2) acts as a transitional object for cult fans to seek solace in, 3) provides them with a platform to increase their subcultural capital, 4) extends into cult fans’ lives by encouraging them to immerse in aesthetic explorations and production, 5) compels them to engage their intellect with the film, and 6) provides a sense of nostalgia and formation of identity.

Hunter (2016) says cult films “allow an opportunity to belong to an inclusive audience of similarly different people.” Cult fans can find a sense of belonging and camaraderie being a part of an in-group that is a counter-aesthetic. As Hunter (2016) posits, “understanding a cult film simply by analysing it as a text misses the fact that cult films, regardless of authorial intention, are valued for the live, even carnal experience they offer… the experience is one of unrelieved badness made palatable only by shared laughter.” 

Their oppositional viewing strategy of watching a bad film also enables them as film-literate audiences who are already rich in cultural capital to obtain more subcultural capital (Donegan, 2019). According to Thornon (1995), subcultural capital “is embodied in the form of being ‘in the know’”. This cult fanbase is “well versed in the production conditions, directors’ backgrounds, and sociohistorical conditions surrounding the texts” (Donegan, 2019). Cult fans of The Room are well-acquainted with the rituals of the film, preparing plastic spoons beforehand, and knowing the cues to chant specific lines. 

Spoons strewn on the ground at a screening of The Room

They possess extensive knowledge about the film, spending substantial cognitive effort in learning about not only the film but also the paratexts that surround it. Some of them might even go on to become ‘aca-fans’ – scholars who are also fans (Cristofari & Guitton, 2017). Thus, this makes them ‘in the know’, and their subcultural capital “confers status on (them) in the eyes of the relevant beholder”. Being a part of this in-group allows them to also maintain a sense of exclusivity and perhaps even superiority as they possess high levels of film literacy and thus, subcultural capital which is “defined against the supposedly obscene accessibility of mass culture” (Thornton, 1995). It is thus unsurprising how cult film fans tend to act as gatekeepers of information and accessibility as their appreciation for cult films operates as a “precious emblem of insider status” (Jancovich, 2002). Acting as esoteric quasi-tastemakers who are non-conformist, they seek to protect their cult films from the out-group, especially because these cult films play a huge role in their identity formation and their sense of self.

It is also noteworthy that paracinematic fans are also interested in highbrow films. Alongside the bad films that they consume, they also seek out European arthouse films (Donegan, 2019). This underscores paracinematic fans’ “double access to high and low culture” (Sconce, 1995), where they possess a “cultural omnivorousness” (Peterson, 2005), thus reinforcing the high levels of subcultural capital they have.

However, this assumption that cult film fans are only concerned with gatekeeping might not necessarily be true. As McCulloch (2011) finds in his research, the fans of The Room that he spoke to “were far more likely to lament its cultural and/or material elusiveness than celebrate it.” It is important to note that cult film fans are not a monolith, and it would be reductive to assume that they are. Despite general trends that show cult film fans derive pleasure from the inaccessibility of certain films, when it comes to paracinema specifically, fans pursue bad films in “an attempt to strengthen their existing social ties” (Donegan, 2019). Paracinematic fans are more interested in “building their pre-existing social networks” instead of setting themselves apart from the mainstream (McCulloch, 2011).  This makes paracinematic viewership a form of “reverse elitism” (Donegan, 2019). Thus, perhaps it is crucial to make a distinction between paracinematic/“so-bad-it’s-good” fans from typical cult fans.

Legacy of The Room 

The Room has left an indelible imprint on pop culture, as highlighted by its enduring legacy. It spawned an adaptation – The Disaster Artist (2017), a film directed by James Franco. The Disaster Artist borrows from a book with its namesake, written by Sostero, who details the production of The Room. It also delves into the icon Wiseau’s personal history which fans have been zealous to dig into. The Disaster Artist cements The Room’s status as a beloved and iconic cult classic in the realm of cinema, adding to the growing canon surrounding The Room.

Other than spin-offs, screenings of The Room still persist in theatres. Wiseau headlines tours where he engages in meet-and-greets and Q&A sessions at the screenings, alongside promoting his upcoming film Big Shark. He also sells merchandise like t-shirts, socks, and even the script of the film’s screenplay. These merchandise not only act as ancillary revenue streams that the film continues to profit from after all these years, but also subcultural capital for those who sport these items of clothing, signalling to others their in-group membership in the cult of The Room.

In Singapore, indie cinema The Projector also screens the film from time to time, even facilitating its traditions by providing spoons to audiences.

The Internet has also propelled the film into a new and unprecedented realm of visibility. As cult fans from all corners of the globe are able to interact with one another, sharing fan-generated content such as memes, video essays, and fan theories, The Room has turned into an immersive cultural phenomenon that is here to stay.

Conclusion

I had the pleasure of meeting Wiseau in the flesh last July. I was doing a summer program at the University of California, Los Angeles. When I found out that there was going to be a screening of The Room at the cinema a stone’s throw away from my dorm, I bought my tickets without hesitation – especially because the screening would be graced by the presence of the man, the myth, the legend himself. It was truly surreal to see him in the flesh and witness his idiosyncrasies – breaking out into random hoots (almost as if to hype himself up), giving bizarre responses to the questions posed at the Q&A, and even indulging a fan with a short game of pass-the-football. It made me wonder whether this was a persona he was putting up, or if it was his true self. 

We will never know, and perhaps his aura of mystery and his eccentric personality is what makes Wiseau so captivating as a cult icon, and what makes The Room an endearing piece of paracinema. As the theatre erupted into laughter, collectively chanting the film’s lines and throwing plastic spoons like clockwork, it felt like I was part of a community. That feeling was euphoric. 

Me and Tommy Wiseau at the screening of The Room