THE ROOM Exposed: The Truth Behind The Worst Movie Ever

Yet, there are things that would make even Dracula soil his pants. I’m taking you to a world that would bring even the most seasoned zombie-apocalypse survivor to their knees. Wooden stakes, crosses, garlic cloves, or priests performing exorcisms—all useless here. This is a world abandoned by God and devoid of any hint of talent. Welcome to the scariest room in the world, ladies and gentlemen – The Room.

The Architect

Every grim castle has its architect. The same goes for rooms. Compared to Tommy Wiseau, the creator of The Room, the story of many cinematic crime masterminds pales in comparison. No one knows where he comes from; no one knows his date of birth. Over the years, whether intentionally or not, he has offered different stories about his past. From various sources—interviews, Q&A sessions, and publications, including the book The Disaster Artist by Greg Sestero, a long-time acquaintance and one of the main actors in The Room—we can try to piece together a story about the architect of this monstrous world.

Wiseau suggests he was born around 1968/1969. However, the actors who worked with him claim that he is much older. Sestero admits that he managed to obtain a copy of Wiseau’s immigration papers through his brother’s wife, which suggests that Wiseau was born in the 1950s in an Eastern Bloc country. Wiseau indeed mentioned that he first drew breath in Europe, close to the Soviet Union, though he never disclosed which country there is his true homeland. Internet sleuths have narrowed down the possibilities, with a high probability pointing to Poland as Wiseau’s birthplace. This conclusion is drawn from the surname of his relatives who raised him in Louisiana (uncovered through obituaries). Wiseau’s relatives were named Wieczor (the “o” presumably lost its accent mark to avoid bureaucratic issues). His young years in Louisiana created another myth around Tommy’s persona. Many people saw him as a Cajun, a member of the French-speaking ethnic group living in the southern part of the state, centered around New Orleans. But that’s not all…

Tommy allegedly traveled back and forth between Europe and the United States. Here, things get murky, as there are conflicting stories. One version (selectively promoted by Wiseau) claims he grew up in Louisiana, while another suggests that after emigrating from a mysterious Eastern European country, he moved to Strasbourg, France. In Germany, the young Wiseau supposedly made a living washing dishes. It was in this divided country that he also supposedly adopted a new name—Pierre. According to this version, only then did he head to the U.S., specifically San Francisco, where he sustained himself by selling bird-shaped toys. And here enters the name-change story. Locals allegedly called him The Birdman due to the items he sold. Taking that to heart, he decided to adapt his surname to this nickname. From the French word “oiseau” (bird), he removed the first letter, replacing it with the initial letter of his family surname (likely Wieczór). Thus, Tommy Pierre Wiseau was born—a mind-bender worthy of the classics.

Of course, we aren’t done yet. It should be clearly noted, though, that all these stories could be both false and true. The main problem with interpreting them is that Wiseau rarely uses dates or numbers, making his concept of time extremely vague, described only in terms like “a long time ago” or “when I was growing up.” As a result, the timeline falls apart to such an extent that pinpointing specific events in his life becomes almost impossible. But let’s get back to France, where Wiseau claims that “a long time ago” (as usual), he lived. Supposedly, he stayed in a youth hostel where his roommates were involved in drug trafficking. He was also suspected of being involved. The French police detained Wiseau and even allegedly tortured him. After this incident, he supposedly fled to Louisiana to live with his relatives. But if France was “a long time ago” and he “grew up in Louisiana,” at what age was he accused of drug trafficking while staying in a hostel without adult supervision? And when did he work as a dishwasher in Strasbourg or sell bird toys in San Francisco?

No matter, what’s important is that Wiseau somehow made it in America. By taking on various odd jobs, including working as a hotel bellhop or a laborer in a hospital, Tommy mysteriously amassed a small fortune. When asked how he managed to gather the funds for the production of The Room (the film’s budget was as much as six million dollars), he responded evasively, nonsensically, or simply foolishly, claiming, for example, that a significant part of the expenses was covered by savings from selling jeans imported from China (apparently, Tommy filled entire ships with them). Before embarking on creating the most terrifying film in cinema history, there was also an accident. It was supposedly this accident that made Wiseau realize how fragile life is and motivated him to pursue his dream of acting and directing.

In 2001, the stage play The Room was created, but no one wanted to stage it. Wiseau didn’t give up; he turned the play into a five-hundred-page novel that no one wanted to publish. Then came the time for cinema.

You’re Tearing Me Apart, Lisa!

The filming of The Room lasted a little over six months, with the movie’s budget exceeding six million dollars. The payroll listed about four hundred names. Wiseau was credited as the screenwriter, director, actor, producer, and executive producer. There were also two other producers listed. However, Sestero claims that one of them was not involved in the project at all, and the other passed away before filming even began. The funds raised for the film didn’t quite match Wiseau’s ambitions, as throughout the production he dreamed of ending the film in a rather unusual way. After all the horrifying events that took place on screen, his character was supposed to go to the rooftop (ah, that rooftop), get into a parked Mercedes, and fly off. During this scene, soaring above the city, it would be revealed that Tommy was a vampire. Wiseau is apparently fascinated by these creatures (considering his appearance, the murky life story where time seems irrelevant, and his vague origins somewhere in Eastern Europe, it gets quite strange). The sequence of flying over the city would have significantly exceeded The Room‘s budget. Wiseau gave up on the blood-curdling finale, although the one that made it into the movie can also give you a heart attack.

One of the main problems during the making of the film was Tommy himself, who found it very difficult to agree to any compromises. The people working on his script were tearing their hair out, not merely crossing out but ripping out dozens of pages filled with nonsensical and rambling monologues. Tommy initially protested loudly but eventually realized he couldn’t even remember short lines of dialogue. Some scenes had to be reshot dozens of times, and even that didn’t yield the desired results. That’s why some of the lines in The Room were re-recorded during post-production. Despite the specialists’ efforts, The Room‘s script is still terrifying and is probably on the banned book index of more than one film school. It’s full of charmingly nonsensical subplots that appear only to vanish from the film forever without any explanation. This happens, for instance, with the breast cancer subplot that the mother of one of the main characters casually mentions to her daughter like gossip about a neighbor, or the chilling moment when we find out that Tommy’s and his “future wife’s” favorite kid is involved in drugs (probably a nod to his time in France). In The Room, there’s a whole treasure trove of such gems. The brilliant scene of playing football in evening wear, friendly conversation right after a murder attempt, jokes and merriment following a fit of rage and a nervous breakdown. And that Golden Gate Bridge, oh, that Golden Gate Bridge…

The script is not the only horror that befell this film. With six million dollars, you could have at least hired professional actors—not the best in the world, but still actors. After what Wiseau claims were hundreds of hours of casting, he probably chose the worst cast in the history of filmmaking. Of course, Tommy himself takes the lead. One American critic said his acting looked as if Borat was trying to impersonate Christopher Walken playing a mental patient. A fascinating comparison, indeed. The rest of the merry crew doesn’t lag far behind. Denny, who is supposed to be a teenager but acts and looks like a twenty-something creep sneaking into bed with his aunt and uncle. Mark, whose only character trait is his penchant for flirting with Lisa, and his uncanny knack for clutching a football. And then there’s Lisa herself, a femme fatale, both literally and figuratively. Horror, horror, horror…

Defying all logic, the film was made. Of course, there were plenty of adventures and anecdotes, including some on the spicy side. For example, Juliette Danielle, who played Tommy’s “future wife” (in the film, the term “fiancée” or “girlfriend” is never used, always “future wife”), arrived on set after a part of the film had already been shot. After her arrival, Wiseau supposedly didn’t allow her to even meet the rest of the crew and immediately ordered the filming of the love scene (some crew members confirm this, while others deny it, so we’re dealing with a typical Wiseau dilemma—decide for yourselves what’s true). The financing of the production remained a constant mystery. Things got even more intriguing when the official premiere revealed the film to be a flop, grossing only about two thousand dollars. Despite that, the five-thousand-dollar-per-month billboard for The Room remained up in Los Angeles for a long time after its premiere. Many of the crew claimed that Wiseau’s project was simply a way to launder money. Frankly, it makes sense.

Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die!

The salvation for The Room came from the American midnight-movie market. Wiseau’s film was shown at night in theaters that specialize in presenting strange, offbeat content, unlike the mainstream multiplexes. Over the years, the production has become a cult classic that continues to regularly fill the seats of select theaters. Even though during the making of The Room, Wiseau couldn’t quite grasp the difference between 35mm film and HD digital cameras, which led him to shoot the film simultaneously in both formats (doubling the number of operators), he managed to create his cherished monument. Not one of bronze or marble—but who knows what it’s made of—the important thing is that it exists. In interviews, Tommy often compares himself to Orson Welles, and he likes to see The Room as a variation on Citizen Kane. Normally, I’d call that extreme egocentrism and absurdity, but with Wiseau, it all seems so sincere that it’s almost endearing. If he had lived a few decades earlier, he probably would have arrived in the U.S. on a ship filled with rats, among dead sailors, hidden under the lid of an oak coffin. Too weird to live, too rare to die—such is Tommy.

So forget about all the horror movies and let yourselves be invited to the scariest room in the history of cinema. When, after a thrilling screening, you dream of Tommy, Denny, Mark, Lisa, and the football, you can rest assured that Freddy Krueger won’t dare interrupt, and no vampire will knock on your window asking for an invitation into your home. This is not their league.