All Hail The Masterful Awkwardness of The King of Comedy

The King of Comedy is another great example of a movie made in a specific era of history that still resonates as relevant today. This 1983 Martin Scorsese directorial effort hinges on the idea of a comic being obsessed with garnering fame through the aid of a late-night talk show host he's obsessed with, and admittedly, it's hard to imagine modern-day people looking for their big break being this exclusively fixated on a broadcast television late-night host as their ticket to glory. But that obsessive drive to be famous at all costs, a creepy sense of entitlement to stardom, all of that is still relevant to today. Though the pursuit of fame may manifest in different ways in 2019, The King of Comedy is about a guy whose primary motivation is disturbingly timeless.


That guy I'm referring to is Rupert Pupkin (Robert DeNiro), a 34-year-old wannabe stand-up comic who is obsessed with late-night talk show host Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis). Pupkin manages to talk to Langford while the comedian is on a car ride back to his home where he's able to coerce Langford to listen to a tape containing examples of his comedy. Langford is clearly doing it just to get rid of Pupkin at this precise moment but Pupkin is a guy who's more than a touch detached from reality. Just from this conversation, he's convinced that he's secured a spot on Langford's show, his greatest dreams are coming true! Pupkin's fantasies and actual reality, though, don't line up and that sets off Pupkin doing whatever it takes to get his shot at the big time.

Something quite interesting about Paul D. Zimmerman's screenplay for The King of Comedy is how we only see Pupkin's life from the perspective of his obsessions. We don't see him at a job, we don't see his house beyond the basement where he performs his own imaginary talk show, we don't even know his backstory or hear any of his comedy until the climax arrives. That's all clearly an intentional move on Zimmerman's part, Pupkin in his current state only defines himself by his ambitions and fixations. Thus, the movie's depiction of the character follows suit. All that we get to see of Pupkin is when he's pursuing his only interests in activities like stalking Langford or badgering Langford's assistants about his audition tape.

We do get a handful of glimpses into Pupkin's mind throughout the movie, though, through daydream sequences that reveal Pupkin's creepy vision for an ideal world. Specifically, it's one where everyone is subservient to him. There is no room for self-improvement, self-critique or any trace of vulnerability in Pupkin's fantasies. Instead, Langford only sings his praises while a girl he crushed on in High School, Rita Keene (Diahnne Abbott), becomes his loyal bride. Pupkin doesn't see the people around him as human beings but rather tools he can use to garner fame and prove wrong all those who doubted him in both his home life and High School. None of these fantasies involve any sort of blood or guts yet they send a chill up your spine in making it clear what kind of warped goals Pupkin has set for himself.

Even beyond these fantasy digressions, The King of Comedy manages to unnerve through its depiction of Pupkin's incredibly awkward social interactions. Here too we see how Pupkin refuses to acknowledge the humanity or perspectives of other people around him. Employees working for Langford try to let Pupkin down easily on his audition tape being rejected and Pupkin's response is to ignore their comments and refuse to leave the office until he gets the chance to talk to Langford. Another squirm-inducing sequence depicting awkward social interactions comes when Pupkin barges into Langford's house and, upon being confronted by Langford over his illegal behavior, maintains for as long as possible a grin and happy disposition inappropriate for the situation.

As a result of being so committed to an unrealistic fantasy version of reality, Pupkin is so detached from the world around him that it leads to all of these immensely vexatious conversations. Such dialogue exchanges prove to be something Robert DeNiro is brilliant at performing in his fifth turn portraying the lead role in a Martin Scorsese movie. In very broad strokes, one might think Pupkin is a successor to previous DeNiro/Scorsese protagonist Travis Bickle from Taxi Driver. After all, both are loners residing in New York City taken away by delusions of grandeur. However, in the process of bringing this character to life, Pupkin becomes very much his own distinct creation and much of that is owed to DeNiro's performance.

Whereas Bickle was somebody with a grim disposition who carried an aloof air, DeNiro lends Pupkin a constant grin and an artificial sense of warmth. Those two qualities are fine for a late-night talk show host but as the only expressions and emotions from a human being, they prove to be disarming and DeNiro just runs with that. Thanks to the way DeNiro communicates the way Pupkin steamrolls over the people around, he's able to make a guy who's all smiles utterly chilling. Like DeNiro, Scorsese also delivers work in The King of Comedy that's as distinctive as it is top-notch. A filmmaker known for loading his movies with record-breaking amounts of F-bombs and drugs, Scorsese manages to make the mindset and behavior of Rupert Pupkin utterly petrifying thanks to his camerawork and direction of the actors. Put Scorsese in PG-confines and he'll still knock it out of the park with a tremendous movie like The King of Comedy.