The Disaster Artist

A film based on the making of one of the most hysterically awful films ever made sounds like a great idea on paper. In execution, however, it's a frustratingly disconnected film, one that feels more like a straight adaptation of the book it is based on rather than its own beast, only there's no equivalent here to Sestero's narration, the glue that held the book together. Characters often change mindsets and motivations between scenes, almost as though Wiseau directed parts of this as well (though the great cinematography destroys that notion at every turn). Read the book, it's pretty good.

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