The In-Crowd

THE DISASTER ARTIST (B) - This is good for what it is. Whatever it is.

James Franco goes into mimic mode to tell the far-fetched story of Tommy Wiseau, a mysterious outsider who somehow wrote and financed what is widely considered one of the worst movies ever, "The Room." The oddball antics of Wiseau, storied in Hollywood and chronicled in a book by collaborator Greg Sestero, offer Franco and his hipster pals a chance to make another movie about moviemaking, this time with a smirk. Give this generation its "Living in Oblivion."

Franco, directing from a script by Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber ("500 Days of Summer," "The Spectacular Now"), dons an ugly black mop of hair and layers of makeup to star as Wiseau. His brother Dave Franco ("The Little Hours") stars as Sestero, who was 19 when he met the older Wiseau in an acting class. Wiseau and Sestero move from San Francisco to Los Angeles, where Sestero takes the traditional route of struggling actor and Wiseau somehow scrapes together $6 million to film his myopic masterpiece.

Much of the film takes place on the disheveled set, with crew members that include Seth Rogen (a producer of "The Disaster Artist"); Jason Mantzoukas and Paul Scheer from TV's "The League"; and cast members Zac Efron, Josh Hutcherson, Ari Graynor and Jacki Weaver. Melanie Griffith and Bob Odenkirk pop up as early acting coaches. Megan Mullally plays Sestero's mom, and a barely recognizable Sharon Stone gets 30 seconds as a cheesy agent. Alison Brie is an afterthought as Sestero's girlfriend.

Much of the high-jinks is funny, and James Franco is spectacularly dedicated to the character, including a bizarre accent that suggests Eastern European origins. The story is so goofy and unbelievable that -- despite the written history -- it still doesn't seem true, but rather something Franco and Rogen hacked out during a weekend pot bender.

The talented cast itself gives off the feel of slumming through a throwaway story. But there are some very funny moments. There is Wiseau insisting that his ass be featured prominently in an awkward love scene. And the "Oh, hi, Mark" roof scene is destined to be its own cult classic. James and Dave Franco banter well. In one of the memorable lines, as Wiseau is distraught over the guffaws that greet the premiere screening, Sestero tries to cheer him up by telling him that just making a movie is itself an impressive feat.  "How many people get to say that?" he asks Wiseau. The filmmaker pauses and says, meekly, "A ... thousand ... ?"

This is an ebullient, entertaining diversion for 104 minutes, especially if the Francos and their pals amuse you. It's not a necessary film. It's not a significant one. It never purports to examine Wiseau as a person with an emotional life. Franco tries too hard to faithfully re-create specific scenes (and hairstyles). But then again, any minute you expect the whole Wiseau myth to be revealed as a droll hoax. It's a rascally romp. Enjoy.

BONUS TRACK
This post-disco puff piece by Corona trips across the closing credits. (Stay till the end for a bonus scene, by the way.)