For anyone who has ever sat through a screening of the The Room, it probably comes as no surprise that the film’s initial theatrical run grossed a mere $1,800 in two weeks. At that rate, as The Disaster Artist co-author Tom Bissell once said, it would have taken 120 years for The Room to break even on its estimated $6 million budget.

But here we are 15 years later still talking about Tommy Wiseau’s little film that couldn’t, but somehow did.

After Wiseau’s real-life best friend, Greg Sestero (Mark in The Room), wrote about their friendship and the experience of making the film in 2013’s tell-most book The Disaster Artist, Wiseau/Sestero fever has reached new heights. James Franco and an A-list cast adapted The Disaster Artist into a critically acclaimed box office hit that immortalized the flub-turned-fairytale into this generation’s must-see cult phenomenon.

Now Wiseau and Sestero are back on screen with a new two-part feature film titled Best F(r)iends. Volume One was recently released for a limited engagement run in theaters. Volume Two is due out in June. Both installments are written (while high on edibles) and produced by Sestero. Justin MacGregor directs both installments; Wiseau is only allowed in front of the camera this time.

In a technical sense, Best F(r)iends: Volume One is slightly better than The Room, which means it is infinitely less watchable.

Let’s start with what the film got right: It reunites Hollywood’s greatest odd couple, this time featuring Wiseau as Harvey, a mortician who drives a white hearse with purple interior lighting; Sestero plays a panhandling drifter named Jon who first appears mute, dressed in a bloody white T-shirt. Harvey creates masks for disfigured corpses to be buried with, is hard to get along with and generally creeps people out. But he takes an interest in Jon after they carry a coffin from Harvey’s hearse to workshop together.

Jon needs money, so he asks Harvey for a job as his morgue assistant. When he discovers Harvey’s collection of gold teeth taken from dead bodies, he develops a money-making scheme that would test even the strongest of friendships. As you might imagine, things go south, forcing Jon to pick between his business partnership with Harvey and his promising relationship with his new girlfriend Traci (Kristen StephensonPino).

In an overt reference to The Room, Sestero and Wiseau solidify their friendship over a game of basketball. They pass back and forth at comical distances and then start a one-on-one game. Watching Wiseau faceguard Sestero is worth the price of admission, but then the movie quickly turns on its head.

There’s an odd freshly-minted-best-buds road trip to Las Vegas that shows neither character drink any alcohol (“I don’t drink you know that!”), but they stumble down the Strip like they’ve consumed enough Scotchka to topple a frat house. From there, each moment grows harder to watch with the most uncomfortable being when Harvey air-licks his dream car. Unlike The Room, which draws its power from floor-to-ceiling eye-roll moments, Best F(r)iends’ most outrageous instances are too flat to evoke more than a sideways head tilt.

The strangest moments come after the film appears to be over. Just when it seems like nothing else can tarnish the film, a montage introduces new characters, shows multiple deaths (why is Wiseau on fire?) and a clown in Harvey’s morgue comes back from the dead. It’s unclear if it’s a preview for a batshit-crazy Volume Two or if it’s just an underthought red herring.

The film doesn’t seem to know if it is supposed to be a comedy or a drama, which, to be fair, early viewers also said of The Room. But this time around, it’s good enough to pass as just bad drama. The most shocking aspect of the screening I attended was that of the roughly 20 attendees, only one couple deserted the film before its inconclusive finale.

Best F(r)iends is a reminder of why they had to make The Room in the first place: They’re just not great actors. When Harvey is supposed to be funny in Best F(r)iends it feels like exploitation of a man who has already bled his life’s work for the camera. Wiseau can never recreate the whole-hearted performance he gave in The Room and now he comes across as a dancing jester. Unfortunately, Best F(r)iends is destined to be a forgotten footnote in The Room history — though who knows if Volume Two will make me eat my words.

In all probability Wiseau and Sestero’s career arc will follow a path similar to Weezer’s — the early stuff will always be essential, but fans will never turn away no matter how painful it may become. If The Room is Wiseau/Sestero’s Pinkerton, Best F(r)iends is their Hurley.

Here in Portland, Oregon, Cinema 21 hosts monthly screenings of The Room. Fans still throw spoons, dress like their favorite characters and chant as the camera pans across the Golden Gate Bridge. Wiseau and Sestero tour with The Room infrequently. Wiseau came through last November, Sestero in December to show his behind-the-scenes footage for The Disaster Artist. (A Wiseau Q&A highlight — someone asked why he wears so many belts: “Because it make my ass look good.” And yes, he sells The Room merch and his brand of underwear.)

Entertainment Weekly once called Tommy Wiseau the “Orson Welles of crap,” but for The Room’s 98 minutes, viewers are transported to “Tommy’s Planet.” Calling The Room the most atrocious garbage ever committed to film only makes more people need to see it because of our macabre fascinations. But those who dismiss the film miss the fact that as a director (and writer/producer/star/publicist), Wiseau created an entire world for viewers to explore relentlessly. In that respect, he created an enduring masterpiece, as mistake plagued and illogical as it is.

There are hundreds of other bad movies out there — just scroll through the Netflix Originals section. But in all of Wiseau’s The Room scenes, his acting feels like a life-or-death performance that you can’t help but be completely enveloped by. There’s a hard-beating heart inside its pulpy exterior. That’s why Best F(r)iends feels like a letdown. Not because it’s bad, but because it’s indistinctly average.

Austin Powers may claim the fictional crown of International Man of Mystery, but in our world, Tommy Wiseau is the undisputed titleholder. Unfortunately, the biggest mystery this time around is why anyone would pay to watch almost four hours over two volumes of a film that is subpar, even when subpar is the relevant metric for rating the film. Then again, my friends and I already have plans to see the next installment. Maybe we’re sadistic. Or maybe any version of “Tommy’s Planet” is just better than ours.

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