A Night with Tommy Wiseau, Director of "The Room" (Part Two)

I can't say that I expected to lay eyes on the infamous Mr. Wiseau, much less get to meet him. I figured I might catch a brief glimpse of him in the shadows of the balcony perhaps, lurking somewhere, subtle and aloof like the Phantom of the Opera. The tickets and advertisements said there'd be a Q and A, but I figured it would be at the very end of the double feature, and there was no way I was going to have the patience to sit through "Best F(r)iends Volume 2" and "The Room" back to back. I got to the theatre a few minutes after 7 and saw a line of people running all the way to the end of the block. Poor schmucks, I thought, they should have bought their tickets in advance, and I walked right into the front doors with my e-ticket ready like I owned the place. "Hey, buddy! Back of the line!" an employee yelled, and I realized that everyone in line had tickets too-- it was a line to hold us back from intruding on the earlier movie and to determine who would get first dibs on seating. I went all the way to the back of the line and maintained my status as the last person in line all the way to until we had all filed in, maybe fifteen minutes later.

As I entered the lobby I had to squeeze through a line of people cutting across the concession stand. It was the largest line of people I'd ever seen in front of a concession stand, so I figured I'd hold off on the candy and just stake out a seat while I still had the chance. I was certain the balcony would be roped off or full already, so I went into the theater on the floor-level and found an aisle seat on the left side. I looked around the theater, which was presently less packed than I had expected, and that's when I saw him. Straight through the lobby door at the end of the other aisle, there he was, standing there in a bright light with his sunglasses on, a vest, blue jeans, inexplicable chains hanging off him, and fingerless gloves on his hands. He was standing next to Greg Sestero, smiling oddly for photos and scribbling quick signatures. The line in front of the concession stand hadn't been for snacks or drinks, it was for taking a picture with the man of the hour.

I was conflicted because I didn't want to wait in that line nor be a nuisance by adding one more obligatory photo to their line-- already I could see the strain in their practiced smiles-- but at the same time I really did want to get a photo with them, just to surprise the Norwegians and give them a good laugh. I ended up settling for a paparazzi style photo through the doorway, then I went back to to the concession stand to get my go-to snacks: popcorn and Buncha Crunch.

I went back to my seat and waited for the movie to start, but after about ten minutes a host came out with a microphone and announced that the Q and A was about to begin, he introduced Wiseau and Sestero to thunderous applause, and they came out onto the stage-- Wiseau first and strutting, Sestero tagging behind politely. I was delighted and amazed to find that Tommy Wiseau is in real life exactly as he comes off in The Room and in Franco's Disaster Artist impression of him. It is fair to say he is somewhat bizarre, clueless, and socially awkward, but none of these words really convey his unique character.

The first question was asked by a young woman who had clearly just seen the new Black Mirror episode "Bandersnatch," because she asked, "Hey Tommy, I wanted to know, would you ever consider making a choose-your-own-adventure movie?"

Wiseau replied, "Sure, you have 28 million dollars? I make you adventure movie. Is very expensive, adventure movie. But yes. Sure. Why not? I love to make adventure movie, but is very expensive."

"No, no," the girl said. "I meant a choose-your-own adventure movie."

"Sure, yes, I choose my own adventure movie, but like I said, is very expensive."

Greg Sestero was shaking his head but made no effort to clear up the confusion.

Next question. A lady in the balcony asked permission to tell a quick story and follow it up with a question. Tommy exhausted an excessive number of sentences on telling the girl she could tell the story, until eventually the girl had to start interrupting him in order to get a word out and actually get the story told. When she finally had the chance to speak, she said, "So a few years ago I gave up drinking, which was really hard but something I needed to do. And in that first month that I quit was when i first saw The Room, and I just wanted to say that your movie really brought me some happiness in a time that was really tough for me, so i just wanted to say thank you to both of you."

Everyone clapped. Tommy said, "Oh wow. Garrett, Garrett, go get this girl a poster or something. Get her something. I sign it for her."

A couple minutes later, after another question, the host emerged from the lobby with the I-gave-up-drinking girl and a big poster for The Room, and he led her up to the stage so Tommy could sign it. Tommy and the girl snapped a photo together, then she started to head off stage, but then he called her back so he could sign the poster. On her way back over, he said, "You know what? Nevermind. We do it later. After movie, yes? I find you and we sign it." She smiled and started back toward the side of the stage again, but Tommy must've realized he would end up forgetting to honor that promise so he said, "Wait, wait! Come back. I sign it now." So she came back again, and she held the poster out to him. He tried to sign it, but he had the mic in one hand and the poster was large, dangling around in front of the pen, so he had her lay it on the ground for him. He said, "Ah but now I have to kneel. You know what? We do it later. After movie, yes? I find you and we sign it." Sestero was shaking his head, people were laughing, and the girl walked off stage expecting to get called back up again.

One more question, the host said. I raised my hand. I'd already skipped out on my opportunity to meet Wiseau in the lobby, so I figured I was obligated to myself to at least ask him a question. They pointed me out, and the host came waddling around the theater to bring me a mic. I said, "I can just ask it without one," but they brought it over anyway. I was standing there awkwardly with nowhere to put my popcorn down, and it seemed like forever standing there waiting for the mic to arrive at my seat, while the rest of the crowd eyed me expectantly. Finally the mic arrived, and my question was this: "Yo, so last year at the Golden Globes you were up on stage with James Franco when he won the best actor award. You went to say something to the crowd, but he wouldn't let you get to the mic. So I guess my question is, if you had had the mic that night, what would you have said?"

This is very good question, he said. Thank you for asking it. I would say this: I love you all, never stop following your dreams, love is blind, thank you. Is that good answer?

"Yes," I said. "Thank you."

They made some final remarks, then left the stage. The lights went dim and the movie began. I'll spare you all of the details but it was one of the worst movies I've ever seen. No surprise there, and that was half the fun. All in all in was a surreal night, and I felt like something in my life had come full circle, but not in some logical or powerful way, but more like a poorly written script, all the more entertaining for its flaws.