Remember the first sex scene in The Room? I mean, how could you not? It only happened eighteen minutes ago. Well, after their crazy drunken night downing a mixed drink of – sigh – scotch and vodka, Johnny and Lisa go have the movie’s third sex scene.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” You might say. “Hold your motherfucking horses.” Geez, watch your language, reader. “We are not even half an hour into this movie. We are going into a third sex scene? Why do we need all these sex scenes? Could there be anything more unnecessary?”
Why, yes there could be! The third sex scene uses the same footage as the first sex scene.
Not even kidding. There’s that rose again!
There’s that fake raining window again!
There’s… that again…
In case you’re in denial and you haven’t quite processed this yet, I’ll spell it out for you: this movie not only contains this same awful sex scene once, but twice. Somehow Tommy Wiseau put the exact same footage in the film twice and assumed nobody would notice. There is literally no other explanation.
And it wouldn’t be the first sex scene all over again without our favorite (mental note: find a different word that is not a complete lie) part, which is of course the “Fuck that navel!” part.
If you haven’t walked away to get another drink yet, now you have no excuse.
I really wish I had that BBGT shot glass right now.
Also, please tell me they did not reuse the full-on butt shot from the last one! I think that would require much more than just one drink, even if that drink were scotch and vodka.
Do you truly believe in your heart of hearts that if the butt scene happened again that I would not have put those pictures in here again?
As much as I’d love to think you’d be kind and spare us, I know that’s not true. Which leaves me thankful for small favors and the fact that the cast probably convinced Wiseau not to add it in the second time.
In fairness, the “copy&paste sex scene” strategy made E.L. James a millionaire. Poor Tommy Wiseau should’ve just written a book instead of making a movie.
“The Room” *was* a novel — a >500-page, unpublished one — before it was adapted first for the stage and then, when that didn’t work (or, rather, worked even less well than the film eventually did), the screen.