The King of Comedy – review

This often overlooked Scorcese and De Niro collaboration is a fine study of obsession, says Harley Sherman

Long live the king

THE KING OF COMEDY (1982)

DIRECTOR: Martin Scorcese

COUNTRY: USA

RUNNING TIME: 109 mins

WATCH IF YOU LIKE: Taxi Driver, A Serious Man

“BETTER to be king for a night than schmuck for a lifetime”. Spoken from the mouth of our twisted hero Rupert Pupkin, they accurately capture the overarching themes of this film – obsessiveness, the fragility of the human ego and the never-ending quest for the everyman to ‘make it’ in showbiz.

‘The King of Comedy’ follows Pupkin (Robert De Niro), a lonely, vulnerable guy who has a simple, unassailable goal: to become a stand up comedian. To do so, he solicits the advice of talk show extraordinaire Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis). When Pupkin gets given the short shrift by Langford and the network higher-uppers, he resorts to more unorthodox tactics to earn himself a spot on TV.

It’s a bittersweet tale of a man trying desperately to be accepted

A somewhat forgotten film buried under Martin Scorcese‘s more universally celebrated works, ‘The King Of Comedy’ sees his famed partnership with De Niro take a sideways lurch away from gangsters, pugilism and vigilantism. A comedy in the darkest sense of the word, it is pitch-black in it’s depiction of a fanatical outsider. It’s easy to find yourself smiling through clenched teeth and a sagging heart throughout.

Pupkin’s character holds some similarities with another classic Scorcese/De Niro creation, Travis Bickle of Taxi Driver. But while Bickle resolves his existential crisis through violence and intervention, Pupkin internalises his anger and detachment from life. The viewer is never privy to any moments of reflection by the protagonist; instead we are shown his various fantasies coupled with his embarrassing interactions with Langford and the network’s establishment. His frustrations become our frustrations, and the film’s third act elucidates on his obsessive drive to be a comedian.

It’s a bittersweet tale about a man trying desperately to be accepted, and in the process hanging his insecurities and resentment out to dry on the most unforgiving stage of all, stand up comedy. While maybe not ascending to the dizzying heights of Raging Bull and Taxi Driver, Robert Pupkin is arguably De Niro’s most sympathetic role. Many of his characters concern figures on the margins of society, but whose shortcomings leave them on the margins of audience empathy.

Pupkin is a disturbing yet innocent victim, befallen by the imperative to firmly, and assertively, mark your individualism on the world, which many seek to achieve by genuflecting to the emptiness of celebrity culture. Unfortunately for Rupert, he is too naive and buoyed by self-sustaining optimism to be aware of this. But at least he has his fantasy world to dive back into.