You Are Tearing Me Apart: The Greatest Film Ever Made
Keith Cormany
Undergraduate/History
Released in 2003, The Room is truly a masterpiece of cinematography. It stands triumphantly beside The Godfather, Citizen Kane, and Casablanca as the greatest films of all-time. Unfortunately the film’s fan base has never expanded beyond “cult” status. Regardless, it belongs to the highest tier of filmmaking. Sadly, I fear many readers of The Flip Side may not be familiar with The Room, which is a genuine tragedy. It is therefore necessary to provide an overview of the plot before analyzing its significance.
(Warning: Spoiler alerts!) The Room follows a few days in the life of Johnny (Tommy Wiseau) and Lisa (Juliette Danielle), who live in San Francisco. It explores the many aspects of their complex relationship—the two are engaged (or, as Johnny eloquently says to Lisa on multiple occasions, “You are my future wife.”). Denny (Philip Haldiman) is the 19-year-old neighbor of Johnny and Lisa, and he frequently visits them (his preferred manner is to invite himself into their apartment). Denny, who may or may not be cognitively disabled, lives in the same apartment complex as Johnny and Lisa because Johnny, out of the goodness of his heart, is paying Denny’s rent and tuition for college. Johnny works at a bank in San Francisco. His generous salary enables Johnny not only to pay for Denny’s necessities, but also to lavish his future wife, Lisa. His love for Lisa enables him to tolerate many things, such as nonsensical flower shop owners. Although Lisa appreciates that Johnny provides for her, Johnny is no longer able to provide the romantic, sexual spark Lisa needs. She turns to Mark (Greg Sestero), Johnny’s best friend, to fulfill this role. Mark is hesitant at first to have an affair with her—she’s his best friend’s future wife—he eventually is persuaded by Lisa’s beauty and charm. Lisa does her best to conceal her growing disdain for Johnny, although her mother Claudette (Carolyn Minnott) attempts to show her the error of her ways. Claudette reminds Lisa that Johnny is an excellent provider and a loving man. Not only are the cracks in Johnny and Lisa’s relationship growing, Denny is also getting into trouble. While on the roof of the apartment building, Denny is assailed by Chris R. (the seemingly meaningless last initial serves as a testament to Chris R.’s ruthlessness and mysteriousness), a local drug dealer. Denny confesses that he does not have the money owed to Chris R. This is quite a problem for Chris R.—he wants his money now (San Francisco evidently has not experienced the benefit of J.G. Wentworth). Chris R. pulls out a gun and places it against Denny’s head. Thankfully, Johnny and Mark arrive just in time to save Denny’s life. They waste no time calling the police. Instead, they personally take Chris R. to the police. The next day, Johnny overhears Lisa confess to Claudette that she no longer loves—or even likes—Johnny. Lisa also admits to her affair, but refuses to identify Mark. Johnny develops a brilliant plan to catch them by bugging the telephone in his apartment. He then meets his friend, Peter, who suggests that Johnny confront Lisa about the affair. Johnny is reluctant to do so—he cannot simply confront his future wife. He wants to give Lisa a second chance. The Room reaches its climax at Johnny’s birthday party. Johnny sees Lisa and Mark dancing and being more intimate than he feels they should be. He confronts them, much to Mark’s chagrin. Mark and Johnny begin to fight over Lisa. The tension in the room can nearly be felt as Johnny says to his former best friend, “Don’t taudge me, mauderfucker. I kill you, I break every bone in your body. I kill you, you baster… Everybody betray me. I fed up with this world.” (He is too worked up to properly enunciate his words or use proper grammar.) Johnny goes upstairs as everyone leaves the party. He rampages through his apartment, dramatically throwing his television set out the window, breaking mirrors, and knocking objects from shelves. Johnny—distraught, heartbroken, and betrayed—commits suicide. Lisa, Mark, and Denny discover his lifeless body. Denny is so overcome with emotion that he cries out for “Tommy” (the name of the actor) instead of “Johnny” (the name of the character). Much like the last moments of Johnny’s life, the film ends in shambles as Mark accuses Lisa of having killed Johnny.
The Room, as one can surmise, is a work of genius. It explores the multifaceted nature of human relationships. The film takes a deep look at sensuality in its multiple depictions of sex, which are set to R&B slow jams. Much like the characters in Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard, the characters in The Room don’t always respond rationally, if at all. The dialogue can, at first, leave viewers scratching their heads until they realize that the dialogue ultimately resembles our lives—in shambles, confusing, and full of doubt. The definitive instance of random, seemingly nonsensical dialogue is when Mark and Johnny are having coffee. Mark asks Johnny for details about an account at Johnny’s bank. “I cannot tell you; it’s confidential,” Johnny replies. “Anyway, how is your sex life?” Additionally, the multiple pictures of spoons in Lisa and Johnny’s apartment exemplify the randomness of everyday life. The character of Denny represents mental illness in society. Although he is quite young, his mental state has already deteriorated and he is unable to remember the most simple of things, such as the last time he entered another person’s apartment unannounced. Denny’s descent into drug use (and his relationship with Chris R.) is a scathing critique of the pervasive pharmaceutical industry. The repetitive exterior shots of San Francisco serve to show that human relationships, problems, and tragedies are universal—they don’t need to occur in large cities like New York or Chicago. The Room is ultimately the most deep, profound commentary on modern society. The film’s powerful final shot, of Lisa, Mark, and Denny huddled over the bloody corpse of Johnny, will remain the most enduring image of humanity’s relationship with itself. As a result of our own selfishness, we have slowly killed altruism and compassion. We all tore Johnny apart.