The Room’s last remaining ritual of audience participation might be for everyone to imagine seeing one’s most deeply personal attempt at self-expression razed by a hurricane of laughter. Most of us, I think, would fare more poorly than [Tommy] Wiseau. That night in Los Angeles, he was as famous and well loved as he has ever been and nevertheless seemed like an unfortunate cultic animal we had all come together to stab at the stroke of midnight. We were laughing because we were not him, and because we were.
Tom Bissell is my new hero. Kneel.