The King of Comedy

A precognition of things to come is perhaps the manner in which one could view this classic from Martin Scorsese circa 1982. In scrutinising the American celebrity, Scorsese has brought us a film that predates things like Natural Born Killers and myriad others, where the media makes darlings of criminals who in turn use the media to get what they want the fast way.

Rupert Pupkin is a name no one remembers. He’s a nobody who dreams of his life of celebrity, he just doesn’t know or doesn’t want to go about it by the usual channels. After repeated rejections from his hero Jerry Langford, The King of Comedy, and finally being brushed off and escorted from the building, Rupert decides enough is enough. So he gets a gun and kidnaps Jerry with the help of a fellow whackjob in Masha.

"There is nothing polite about kidnapping!"

All Rupert wants is the opening monologue on Jerry’s show. If the FBI allow him that, he will give Jerry back unharmed. It’s that simple.

Rupert is played to perfection here by Robert De Niro, chameleonising himself after Raging Bull and Taxi Driver into a whole new menace; the obsessive fan. While there were certainly a hefty share of obsessive fans back then, they seem to have come out of the woodwork since, until today it appears you aren’t anyone until you’ve been stalked. At the time though, this was a relatively new area to examine and under Scorsese’s expert eye, De Niro brings borderline psychotic into whole new levels of awkwardness and uncomfortability. And that’s not to say he’s dangerously violent at any twist; quite the opposite, Pupkin appears meek and mild, but there’s a scorned child seething underneath.

While at first appearing very different from anything Scorsese had made up to this point (or since for that matter), there are some similarities under observation that make themselves apparent and De Niro’s incredible acting ability masks them well. Jerry Lewis, forever the whackjob himself with Dean Martin, plays the role straight here and does so effectively, proving he is and has always been much more than Martin’s psychotic and moronic partner. Between the two there is a certain dynamic that builds the tension of their relationship as it slowly gains momentum to film’s end.

This is a different film for De Niro and Scorsese, yet it is familiar territory. Perhaps the approach is different, but the overall theme is known to us from their earlier collaborations. A loner on the edge gets pushed too far and while the object is comedy here, there is a subtle growing menace that slowly wipes the smile from our faces as the film progresses.

Made in 1982, this film looks fairly average as far as transfers to DVD go. There are some grainy moments early on, with interior darks of cars and apartments, plus there is some film wobble at various times throughout (one in particular at 1:10:15). The shot to video or recorded off a TV screen images of the TV show in action are a fair bit softer than the rest of the film, but this is wholly deliberate and is suited to the film overall. Shadow detail is sometimes murky and sometimes okay, while black remains a deep, deep grey for the majority of the film. Delivered in the aspect ratio of 1.85:1 with anamorphic enhancement this looks alright for a film that's 22 years old, but it could have looked better.

This Dolby Digital 5.1 surround mix is okay, though nothing to get excited over. The film is mostly a talkie and doesn’t require surrounds or real subwoofer support. Dialogue is clear and delivered perfectly by both Lewis and De Niro, running a gamut of situations with awkwardness, anger, nervousness and a variety of others. All is easily understood throughout.

The score is wholly invisible, but there are numerous tracks that leap out from artists of the time (and earlier) that include Rickie Lee Jones, Ric Ocasek, Ray Charles, B.B. King, Van Morrison and Tom Petty among others. And if you look closely you might catch Mick Jones and Joe Strummer of The Clash for a minute in the film.

Not a lot here, but some rarities given the film's age. A Shot at the Top: The Making of The King of Comedy is a recent featurette featuring interviews with Martin Scorsese and Sandra Bernhard (Masha) with some interesting character dissections and discussions on the behind the scenes stuff. It’s worth a look, but inevitably is purely promotional. Longish at 18:10 though, so that’s something.

Two deleted scenes with running lengths of :37 and 5:38 further attest to the abilities of our players here, but are worthy cuts from the final print. Still, well worth a look for their rarity, although they aren’t in the best shape.

The theatrical trailer comes in 1.85:1 with enhancement and runs for 1:26, though it is in pretty poor repair. That’s followed by a soft-edged 30-second 4:3 Canadian TV Spot that’s essentially worthless, but again a novelty for a film this age.

Finally there’s a still gallery of behind the scenes shots in which I thought I saw some repeats but couldn’t be sure. There are 32 pics all up, anyway.

The King of Comedy isn’t what I would call one of Scorsese’s best films, but it is certainly one well worth checking out for De Niro’s incredibly nerdish yet menacing performance. Jerry Lewis also earns his dough here and even Sandra Bernhard does a bang-up job as the psychotic Masha.

This story isn’t a new one to us up here in the 21st century, but back in 1982 this theme was only just beginning to be explored. And in that regard, this film remains one of the better efforts of this genre.

If you’re collecting Scorsese, this one definitely belongs there and while it’s not his best film, it is by no means his least.