Franco's Tommy Wiseau is an oblivious creature who
bangs out the script to his mystifying tour de force in a furiously hokey typewriter montage; without any internal conflicts, motivations, or backstory to speak
of, his ambitions are simplified into his relationship with Sestero, a character whose two modes are «wide -
eyed» and «peeved.»
At five in the morning someone
banging on the door and shouting, her husband, John, leaping
out of bed, grabbing his rifle, and Roscoe at the same time roused from the backhouse, his bare feet pounding: Mattie hurriedly pulled on her robe, her mind prepared for the alarm
of war, but the heart stricken that it would finally have come, and down the stairs she flew to see through the open door in the lamplight, at the steps
of the portico, the two horses, steam rising from their flanks, their heads lifting, their
eyes wild, the driver a young darkie with rounded shoulders, showing stolid patience even in this, and the woman standing in her carriage no one but her aunt Letitia Pettibone
of McDonough, her elderly face drawn in anguish, her hair a straggled mess, this woman
of such fine grooming, this dowager who practically ruled the season in Atlanta standing up in the equipage like some hag
of doom, which indeed she would prove to be.