An evening with Mr. Wiseau

A day and a half later, I am still hoarse, and my brain aches. It's been assaulted by fermented hops and the romantic ramblings of a mad man.

The mad man, as previously mentioned, is Tommy Wiseau, the enigmatic auteur that wrote, directed, produced, financed, and starred in "The Room". This past Friday evening, he made his first appearance in Chicago to host two screenings of "The Room" at the Music Box Theater on Southport.

The line for the midnight show snaked up the sidewalk, fans of both film and camp stepped over half-melted snow banks left over from the weeks' storms. People made sure they had a solid inventory of spoons (I came with 100, which was grossly insufficient), sipped illicit beers, and occasionally ducked into adjacent alleys to relieve themselves.

Despite the cold, and the crowd's obviously high level of inebriation, there was a palpable camaraderie. The bond we shared was the common knowledge that it didn't matter if this was the first or fifth viewing we were individually about to embark upon, that we were all in for a bewildering journey into the depths of indescribable ineptitude, which tonight, would be potentially explained by its creator.

No such luck. If you've ever read or seen an interview with Tommy Wiseau, it quickly becomes clear that the incomprehensible piece of work he produced was not a fluke for this man - it is the only way he could possibly make a film. His trains of thought are nearly impossible to follow, made all the more difficult by his peculiar manner of speaking. Being on the tail-end of a power hour on a mostly-empty stomach doesn't help matters.

On our way in to the theater, we caught a glimpse of Tommy outside - shaking hands, wearing the same sunglasses from the film, and generally looking like a guy waiting to get invited to a coke party.

Before the screening began, Tommy took the stage to make a few remarks and answer a few questions. I didn't get a chance to ask mine, which would have been to query his Valentine's Day plans and ask if he thought, with the wild underground success of "The Room", it would be possible for him to be struck by lightning twice. I did, however, furiously type notes into my iPod to make sure I didn't forget what he said, which I certainly would have otherwise.

Tommy began by reciting Shakespeare's sonnet #116, a fitting choice given the film he made. When asked what his favorite band was, he replied, without hesitation, U2. Then, Tommy gave us some parting thoughts before the lights dimmed. It was so important to him, he said it twice.

My notes: "Yoyx can laugh you can cruvplrase Sony hurt each other."

Tommy's plea: "You can laugh, you can cry, but please, don't hurt each other."

I don't think he meant to be careful when playing tuxedo football with your friends.

"The Room" is truly something to behold. When you go, and you should, bring buddies, spoons, and a suspension of disbelief.

IHYFM BONUS PHOTOS TAKEN BY DAN:

I mug for the camera while Paul plans his next attack on my backside. This is par for the course with us, power hour or not. I'm wearing a tie because dammit, you dress up for special occasions.

Steph (middle), Dan's better half, put together our power hour mix before her first-ever viewing of "The Room". She's smiling because she has no idea what she's in for. If she did, she'd be crying.

Ray Charles serenades Otter and Ryan.

Paul and I brought 3D glasses and road beers. The former did not improve the sex scenes, whereas the latter did.

Dan takes a photo of a motley crew (from left to right): Paul, Ryan, myself, Velk, and Otter.

And, finally, Otter and Ryan managed to corner Wiseau in the lobby while the rest of us were grabbing seats. Ryan got a photo op by saying he came all the way from Scotland for this show, which since he is actually in grad school in Scotland, is not a lie. Otter says that the fist-bump was Wiseau's idea, and the only way he would do the photos. These two were more than happy to comply.

Ryan later re-encountered Wiseau in the lobby on a popcorn run. Wiseau was so taken aback by Ryan's question of which city is his favorite to show the film in, Wiseau assumed he was a journalist. Buying popcorn. At 1 in the morning.

Otter, on this photo: "One of the top 6 moments of my life."

TONIGHT: "The Room" hosted by Tommy Wiseau

They say once you've entered "The Room", you'll be forever changed.

As I said in my initial review, that is painfully true. But tonight, my dear readers, Tommy Wiseau will once again have a chance to touch me. This time, physically.

Coming soon - a report from the Music Box midnight screening of "The Room", hosted by its star, writer, director, and executive producer, Mr. Tommy Wiseau.

The movie gods have smiled upon us. If you have a question you'd like me to try to ask, shoot it to my Twitter @ihateyourfavmov. My spoons are at the ready.

"The Room": this one has a view of a spoon

I first learned of Tommy Wiseau while watching an exceptionally strange episode of "Tim and Eric: Awesome Show Great Job!" [excerpts here]. Anyone familiar with the Adult Swim show knows that in of itself is a mouthful, as the show is a parade of bizarre hit and miss non-sequitors; to say an episode is exceptionally strange is akin to saying Kate Gosselin is exceptionally crazy or the Backstreet Boys are exceptionally gay.

This particular episode of Tim and Eric centered around Tommy, who has the strangest unidentifiable accent you've ever heard, directing a skit with his signature touch. To get an idea of his signature touch, I direct you to a scene from "The Room" wherein Johnny, played by Tommy, buys his ungrateful girlfriend some flowers.

Did your brain just melt like a marshmallow peep in a microwave?

Last Saturday, I saw "The Room" for the first time on a last-minute impulse with a few friends at a midnight screening at Chicago's Music Box theater. Much like "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" or LA screenings of "The Big Lebowski", viewing "The Room" requires audience participation. When you go, and you should, bring some spoons.

The real beauty of watching "The Room" is not relishing in the horrible writing, acting, and directing. The absurd misogynistic plot, about an angel of a guy who does nothing but dote on his girlfriend Lisa when he's not busy paying rent and tuition for Denny upstairs or playing football with his psychologist Peter and buddy Mark who begins to cheat with Lisa when she gets bored with Johnny, takes a back seat to the fevered audience participation.

Whether it's shouting salutations to the awkward third wheel Denny, rooting for tracking shots across the Golden Gate Bridge (it's set in San Francisco!), or throwing spoons at the screen every time a framed picture of a spoon is visible on a side table (this happens A LOT), the sense of community that comes from watching an affront to celluloid is cathartic.

The catharsis is not so much the dark joy that comes with watching an utter failure in every cinematic sense, rather, "The Room" takes you to a deeper place. The betrayal unjustly served to Johnny from seemingly every angle, and his bizarre take on how people interact, are indicative of not only someone who has suffered great heartache, but more importantly, of someone who hasn't the slightest idea how human beings interact. I have never known someone to creepily laugh at any opportunity. Never have I brushed off a friend who told me and a girlfriend they like to watch. I have never casually played football with my friends and psychologist while wearing tuxedos.

To watch "The Room" is as close to experiencing "It's A Wonderful Life" as most of us will ever get. "The Room" reminds us that no matter what the shortcomings of our lives are, we are blessed. We are not Johnny, doomed to be taken advantage of by those he cares for most. And, more importantly, we are not Tommy, who will forever be defined by the uncanny success of his colossal personal and professional failings.

TOO MUCH: Tommy Wiseau's naked pulsating ass cheeks thrusting into his costar's hip

COULD HAVE USED MORE: spoons, apple metaphors

FILM SNOB NOTE: Part of the cult success of "The Room" is owed to Ed Wood's infamous "Plan 9 From Outer Space", the sci-fi catastrophe that starred Wood's chiropractor as Bela Lugosi

IHYFM RATING: This doesn't even register on the MEH scale. A solid FIVE out of FIVE WTF's.

IF YOU SAID THIS WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE, I'D THINK: you're a hipster that knows how to use a spoon.