The Dramedy Genius of Judd Apatow’s ‘The King of Staten Island’
The King of Staten Island
Directed by Judd Apatow
A soul-stirring 4.5 out of 5.0
Here we are, halfway into the year 2020. The US has entered a new age with the war on systemic racism and police brutality, the ecological threat of “murder hornets" invading America just became a thing, and as the entire world continues to battle the grand threat of the fearsome coronavirus, we are all left to wonder in our current state: “all right….what’s coming next?”. Of course that’s whiny exaggeration, and of course the right way to beat COVID-19 and work towards eradicating racist ways in our country is positivity and progressive action. But the cynical side of myself sees the degree of absurdity in this tragicomic barrage of one thing after the very next (e.g, Bill Withers death. RIP), but I do see a large potential in the future for dramatic and comedic (especially comedic) reflection upon these current events. We are braving a world that the inevitable hand of change has graced yet again, in, perhaps, a bigger way than it ever has before.
And before I start, I just want to add a disclaimer for everyone. I am very aware that my response is very small in regards to the righteous protests and riots of late that are desperately screaming for America’s leaders to cut off the undoubted 'white supremacist’ veins of structure that have affected black Americans and POC for hundreds of years in our country (admissible run on sentence). And while today I strive to direct the bulk of my focus upon our cinematic subject, Judd Apatow’s recent comedic drama The King of Staten Island, I fully intend to write a piece acknowledging the push and pull history of black America's stand against tragically persistent racist brutalities in the world and in cinema very soon. I’m fully dedicated to this subject, and just want you all to know that I’ll be devoting full effort and concentration upon this miserable, as well as heroic, part of our history. So stay patient for that project.
Now, as I preached before in my last review (of last month's raucous Netflix comedy The Wrong Missy), the idea of comedy having the most power in the hardest of times remains totally true. I can’t tell you how much my cinematic consumption has consisted of comedy, some good, some bad (some of my favorites: Beverly Hills Cop Trilogy, Down to Earth, Silver Linings Playbook, and so many more). It really is a comforting and hilarious remedy now, when all that is ever shown in the media (for the majority) is either related to a pandemic continuing to decimate notion of normal life (as well as people), or protests, riots, and killings on the basis of race that are miserable, even with the brave facing the threat of corona to speak out. And all of this is why, for now, I turn yet again to hilarity with legendary comedy director Judd Apatow’s (Knocked Up, The 40-Year Old Virgin, Trainwreck) newest work, The King of Staten Island.
Our impulsive protagonist, Scott (played by Pete Davidson), appreciates any human canvases he can practice tattooing on. (Mary Cybulski/Universal Pictures)
This is truly a special creative circumstance for audiences, as star and co-writer of the film Pete Davidson (stand-up comic, actor, and current cast member on the iconic comedy-sketch show, Saturday Night Live) teams up with Apatow, a comedy god, to create a semi-autobiographical portrayal of [Davidson’s] life growing up in Staten Island. For this movie, the 26-year old comedian opens up his life’s narrative to creatively mine the traumatic experience of losing a father at an early age (his dad, Scott Matthew Davison, was an FDNY fireman who perished when responding to the attacks on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001), as well as working to draw inspiration from his subsequent encounters with depression, drugs, and more.
In this film, Davidson plays a slightly darker, edgier, and higher (weed-wise) version of himself named Scott Carlin. We begin the film with a rather tense introduction to our protagonist Scott, as he speeds down a highway with eyes closed, music blasting, in the efforts to possibly silence his inner voices for just a moment. Scott is a 24-year old dude who lives at home with his mom, Margie (played by Marisa Tomei), and spends the whole of his days, either, getting high with his homies, or looking for human guinea pigs to practice his tattooing skills, in the strangest borough of New York City, Staten Island. His careless demeanor and delightfully dark cynicism sloppily flap around in his everyday encounters with others, but with a slightly closer view, we find out that this bitterness stems from the loss of his father, a firefighter who died in the line of duty, at the mere age 7. For the past 17 years, Scott has tried to block out the pain, confusion, and anger that encircle, virtually, every part of his life now, as he continues to cope with the morality of his father’s ultimate sacrifice. Searching for some level of peace, Scott believes that the path to a happier life lies with his dream to become a tattoo artist. But for now, with his sister, Claire (Maude Apatow, daughter of the film’s director), leaving for college, and his life continuing to pass slowly by, he just kinda feels stuck in place.
Scott’s passive lifestyle is disrupted though when his mom takes on a new suitor for the first time in years. Ray (Bill Burr) is a middle-aged hothead, divorcee father, and, coincidentally, firefighter, who enrages every fiber of his Scott’s tattooed-body. So a vendetta against the mustachioed fireman stirs and schemes within Scott now, as Ray inches into his life now like an irritating poke to the ribs. And as he’s assigned with the new daily responsibility of walking Ray’s kids to school (a heartwarming and hilarious kid-to-adult exchange), while also starting some deep conversations with his best friend and secret lover, Kelsey (Bel Powley), about the exact purpose of their relationship, Scott must now navigate his life in a new way than ever before. He is somewhat forced to looked into his future now, and how he will come out on the other side of this unprecedented situation is for the characters, audience, everyone, to find out.
Scott chilling with his buds, Igor and Oscar, played by Moises Arias and Rick Velez (Mary Cybulski/Universal Pictures)
Quick fun fact, I was actually “destined" to watch this comedy premiere at the SXSW Film Festival earlier this year, in March, until the international event was cancelled in the wake of a pandemic slowly spreading to American soil (which actually launched the domino effect of cancellations and lockdown that we see today). But history and complaints aside, I paid the $20 to rent and watch this new release on Prime Video, in the comfort of my home (I don’t believe ‘home' and ‘comfort’ will be associated terms after these months of self-quarantine), and I have to say it’s a really interesting experience, to say the least. There has definitely been a new door opened to think about the potential 'VOD movie release' has to compete with the longtime tradition of 'theatrical release’. The surprising success of Trolls: World Tour back in April, turned heads around the film industry for sure. Universal retained nearly 80% of the film’s $100 million gross in digital rentals in the course of about three weeks, while the first 2016 Trolls installment made a bit more at $153 million in domestic grossing in the span of a similar three weeks, only to have about 50% of that revenue split and passed off to theater chains around the country (there’s even more international info that I’m not touching on).
But anyway, back the topic on hand, I had really wonderful time watching this comedy-drama. Unlike Apatow’s past works, this film definitely makes drama a priority over comedy (though jokes are still present in appropriate, but delicious amounts). The bulk of the film is fictionalized in the name of creating a comprehensive story, and a fitting arc for the character of Scott. This movie is not about Davidson, but rather the emotional journey of Davidson’s character is a completely authentic reflection of [Davidson’s] internal struggles with tragedy. In an interview with the Daily News, Apatow referred to the entire process of the film’s production as “very cathartic” for Davidson. He talked a bit about the film's development, and about how he and Davidson, “...were working from the premise of: What would Pete be like if he didn’t have comedy? What if he didn’t know what to do? So that was the big difference. What’s similar is the different stages of Pete’s grief and how he’s trying to deal with it”.
This I find completely fascinating. In the movie, as Scott works through his emotions by giving and getting tattoos (his own form of “therapy”), Davidson seems to have worked through his some of his own trauma by totally exposing his story, and giving everything necessary to this film. Imagine that. Being able to write an entire film, book, or play, that could serve, in part, as some sort of mental closure to you. Though uncommon, the notion of ‘autobiography’ in films is not relatively exclusive to this one work, with Kumail Nanjiani and Emily V. Gordon's The Big Sick (2017), and Shia Lebouf’s Honey Boy (2019), being written/directed by, virtually, the hero of their own story: themselves. The act of taking your own pain and tragedy, your experiences, is a universal one, and is actually a very common in the art stand-up comedy (I’m editing the time I spend on these topics, as you can, possibly, quite clearly tell).
Co-writers Davidson and director of the film, Judd Apatow, review a take on the monitor. (Mary Cybulski/Universal Pictures)
Now for the spotlight to alternate on the director, as many have come to know his name through a seemingly endless slate of movies, shows, and specials, I think it is more than safe to that Mr. Judd Apatow has forever changed the way we look at comedy filmmaking today. With an outstanding 20-year career in film, and a career in comedy spanning nearly 40 years, the 52-year old director has brought some of the greatest modern classics to comedy and countless people everywhere, as a director (Trainwreck, The 40-Year Old Virgin, Knocked Up, This is 40), a producer (Superbad, Pineapple Express, Bridesmaids, Anchorman, Step Brothers), and a writer (he appears writes many, not all, of the films he directs, but a few of his other notable works include the shows Freaks and Geeks, Love, and Girls. I think I’m finished now).
Quite the impressive oeuvre indeed, but without any seeming flattery on my part (if you couldn’t guess, I’m a huge fan), I want to say that I truly am an admirer of Apatow. And of course I apply my idolization to the director's work (including his books, his 2017 return-to-stand-up special, and more), but I can be specific and say that I’m fascinated with his style of writing and delivery, in particular. His films have a reputation for being hilarious, obviously, but they also dig into some pretty personal topics (marriage, fear of commitment, becoming a parent, etc.). And at the heart of each of his films is a point of straightforward ‘drama' that greatly informs what sort of comedy emerges from each scenarios (because without an intriguing ‘hookline’ story, without any stakes, why else would we care what happens to these characters?). Many comedies seem to work from the-inside-out in this way, with this vital aspect of ‘drama' feeding into the comedy conscience of the work as a whole.
Just one of the many heartwarming trips Scott takes with Ray’s (played by Bill Burr) kids to their school. (Mary Cybulski/Universal Pictures)
uThe very same concept is used in The King of Staten Island, though, as I mentioned earlier, Apatow approaches this particular film from a more dramatic viewpoint, straying, just a bit, from his traditional sights on hilarity. The film still has some really hysterical scenes and lines, I don’t want to underplay that in the least, but part of what makes this film one of Apatow’s greatest shows of storytelling skill is his delicate use of these multiple factors to serve, not what he thinks people want from him, but what he feels the story itself needs. When you assign humor in the role of being more of an enhancer than a driver of the story and its characters, you're able to kind of look at the story in an isolated state, and watch if it does stand on its own two feet. And I can tell you right now that the storyline is definitely a real trip (meaning, it’s really good).
I watched this film twice (I feel like the second time around a movie, I have more of a critical and tense eye, which I have a love-hate relationship with), and both times I felt very sensitive to this story and in total belief of what was happening with Scott’s world (his family, his friends, his dreams). As I stated earlier, every part of Scott’s life seems to be connected to the tragedy of his father’s death, and, as we see in the film, this veil of grief is something he deals with well into his adult years. I really value these types of character studies, where I’m able to kind of look back at people in my own life, at their bitterness or joy, and see them through a lens of empathy. It’s a healthy thrill for me to immerse myself in someone else’s worldview, and I think it’s also an important thing for people to be reminded of, to put yourself in the place of others (if you can’t manage locking that concept into your brain, perhaps try using the saying we’ve all heard at least once before: “There’s always more than meets the eye.”).
Moving on, it’s easy to point out that Davidson’s character is just likable. His dark sarcasm, insular walk of life, impulsive lifestyle, and passive style of romance, at many times, are offensive, shameless, and even downright dirty. But we see him through that wide angle lens, as an entire individual. We see the type of person he wants to be (happy and carefree), and we stay and wait and root for him al of the way through (we have hope).
Scott has a ‘sibling debate’ over the topic of college with his sister, Claire (played by Maude Apatow). (Mary Cybulski/Universal Pictures)
The intimacy of this story is only heightened with the fact that we stay close up on Scott the entire film, and see the world through his eyes (it’s very uncommon to have scene without the tall, lanky protagonist in it). And, of course, we get substantial and motivating views from amazing supporting characters like Scott’s sister, his mom, and others, but I kind of saw the character portrayal as a raft just drifting on the ocean (the raft is Scott…. now, just wait a second). And, while we see various storms, pieces of driftwood, and even sharks transpire all around it (friends, family, emotional obstacles), our focus never leaves that one raft as we wait for the moment it eventually finds its way to some sort of current leading to land (I have absolutely no knowledge of whether that analogy was a failure, but let’s keep going now).
Hopefully you understand what I’m getting at, but if not, basically, I was attempting to describe, again, this very personal type of portrayal of someone who lives in some distant, but essential function within this social setting. Everyone and everything in this film work in unison. It would be totally inaccurate to describe the characters as just orbiting around Scott’s world. This also brings into consideration the aspect of when someone in need receives that help from others (whether or not it’s wanted). Even after acknowledging that someone is there to love and care for you, even after receiving some sort of aid, even then, it’s important to remember that change still starts with you. For Scott, all he does is hope that others can solve his mental agony for him. He becomes set in a life of just waiting for radical change, while taking little to no action for himself. Scott has a lot to discover about healing for himself, and this secondary frustration with being depressed is yet another hurdle for our character to jump in this 'dramedy’.
Scott tries to console his upset mother, Margie (Marisa Tomei). (Mary Cybulski/Universal Pictures)
To reiterate, this movie is not about 'Pete Davidson’s life' (through different events, the story focuses on trying to fully immerse you in the world 'Scott Carlin’ interacts with). But it certainly takes from the emotional voyage Davidson has navigated since the age of 7, stemming from the death of his father. Those feelings are very real to him, and that authenticity, that vulnerability, is the backbone of what makes this film speak with such profound effect to so many people, who all relate and empathize on a variety of levels (regardless of whether or not you’ve experienced life in a ‘verbatim sort of manner’). When, without question, and without condition, you invest yourself in someone’s story, and stay until it is “finished”, that’s when you know the writing executes well on at least one level (that’s how I think about it, at least).
But I think it’s beautiful that Davidson was able to share this experience, not only with a fantastic cast and a partner like Apatow to bring a version of his story to the big screen, but the young comedian was also able to bring some figures from his own life, his story, onto the set off the film.
Apatow has a conversation with Steve Buscemi (who plays a firefighter) on location. (Mary Cybulski/Universal Pictures)
The film was shot in Davidson’s home of Staten Island, New York, NY, also including some of his real-life family and friends to cameo in the film, including a fine harmful of friends made over the years (like Ricky Velez, Colson Baker, Derek Gaines, and co-writer of the film, Dave Sirus ), some of his father’s firemen colleagues, and even his grandfather. While this film may serve for years to come as an homage to the south-bound island, it doesn’t act as much of ‘homecoming’ for Davidson, as he is still deeply connected to the city (in fact, he and his mother purchased a home together in Staten Island just last year). But it is fascinating to be given a genuine peephole into the distinct culture of "the Forgotten Borough", by those who are familiar with the area. In the film, we get to know the city through our characters' backgrounds, in neighborhoods, overgrown basketball courts and beaches, a firehouse, a strip mall, a tattoo parlor, and so many other somewhat average, but familiar-feeling attributes of the region. Staten Island is, in and of itself, a grand character in this movie. And (another quick note) while a parallel of ’stoner culture’, and the presence of “doobage" (aka ‘marijuana’, for those in tight jackets), can be be found in more than a few of Apatow’s other works, including this film, we veer in another fresh direction as the story seems to be approached from the POV of people who live in more of a working class/middle-class (which I’ll briefly return to later). Another “heirloom” quality of this film’s depiction of this unique city.
Scott and Buscemi’s firefighter character, Papa observe *something*. (Mary Cybulski/Universal Pictures)
But let’s take a moment not to forget another important person in production who can make or break the way we look at a movie. (Nope, not hysterical actors, but) Cinematographers. We are lucky to have a great cinematic eye working on this project, Paul Thomas Anderson’s go-to director of photography, Robert Elswit (There Will Be Bloodˆ, ˆNightcrawler, Punch-Drunk-Love). Though silent mentor of the film, he contributes greatly by giving audiences an incredibly crisp and clean view of a city that can be described as neither of those things. His shots feel delicate and fresh, they follow the point fo interest without fault, and still stay “thoughtful” enough as not to draw too much attention away from the plot. Elswit’s subtle eye really helped to draw the deep, deep emotions we feel from these characters, and, subsequently, helped to bring to fruition one of Apatow’s most beautiful films yet (I love director’s who assess multiple sides of making film, seeing it as ‘art', in every sense of the word— both narrative and visual beauty. Great choice Mr. Apatow).
Anyway, other than petty robberies, explosive bickering, and tattoo jobs gone wrong, not much action is present in the small borough (in a good way, I think). Davidson and Apatow worked to give a true-to-life perspective of Staten Island's unspoken environment of “insulation”, as opposed to the surruonding boroughs. Apatow para-phrased Davidson in an interview (the one from earlier) talking about how, “when he was a kid, they wouldn’t leave very often.” He said that even though Manhattan was so close but, “he and all of his friends wouldn’t venture out to the city, to other boroughs, and it was a little bit of a bubble for them.”
Apatow, a Queens-native who was raised in Sysosset on Long Island himself, resonated with familial, though blocked off, type of community. He continued on the sub-topic of the location’s atmosphere, saying that because not many visitors come to Staten Island, who aren’t friends or that is, that the city “…is its own little world that, for me, as someone from Long Island, felt very familiar.” He went on to describe the close connection he felt with the locals, “I really enjoyed being there. Everyone was really really kind to us, and I understand why Pete loves it.”
Davidson loiters on-set with his friends, on and off screen, Arias, Velez, and Lou Wilson. (Mary Cybulski/Universal Pictures)
And I don't know if it’s a prominent field to enter in Staten Island, or if Davidson and Apatow just wanted to add a degree of wackiness to the character of Scott, but I love it when filmmakers add some niche aspect into their stories (like when Dan Gilroy exploited the underground field of nocturnal crime video journalism with his eerie, 2014 drama, Nightcrawler). I don’t really see anything pertaining to the tattoo industry in film, and I think that was interesting to see how people kind of start out, at least (like any artist: just drawing on paper).
And the actual tattoos that engulf most of Davidson’s body are put to good use in this film, as he plays as stoner character with aspirations to become (again) a tattoo artist. To give you an small idea of what some of Davidson’s 100+ tattoos might look like, on his left forearm is inked the head of a fearsome Direwolf (a fictitious monster-wolf from the HBO’s colossal fantasy hit, Game of Thrones). On a segment of SNL called Weekend Update back in 2017, he claimed that he never watched the show prior to getting it inked, and used that absurd-sounding decision to hysterically criticize his fellow Staten Islanders, and their poor lifestyle decisions (to be fair, Davidson does have a few tattoos dedicated to the memory of his father, messages of living life to the fullest, and even a piece dedicated to Hillary Clinton is inked on his calf. I think I know where his vote went). But in the film, some reasoning behind the number of epidermal artworks is given, when (again) Scott refers to getting a tattoo as his favorite thing to do, especially when he needs to express some dark emotion. As one might decompress by going to yoga, or a therapist, Scott vents out by getting tattoos.
(Now, when writing these reviews, I believe that it’s purely impossible to capture the entire essence of a film, but) Before I wrap up, I’d like give a nice nod to the notable talent in this film. As I touched on earlier, starring alongside Davidson’s neurotic persona are equally pivotal characters played by true greats, Marisa Tomei, Bill Burr, Bel Powely, Maude Apatow, and, if I continue to neglect the fact that the legendary Steve Buscemi plays a minor part as a mouthy fire chief, I might as well be crazy— Steve Buscemi plays a mouthy fire chief in this film (a small return to his actually firefighter roots back in the 80s). There we go.
Pete Davidson brings a raw feel to his role, and his performance is one that, at all times, lets us know what’s happening inside, beneath a tattooed exterior. His scenes of sardonicism level out nicely with equally ardent times of total vulnerability (I’ll return to this in my conclusion). And at Davidson’s side, to help represent the ethos, the people who make Staten Island what it is, are some names, both new and old, like Ricky Valez, Moises Arias, Lou Wilson, Jimmy Tatro, Pauline Chalamet (Timothee Chalamet’s sister), Keith Robinson, and so many more.
Scott carelessly messes with Bill Burr’s mustachioed character, Ray. (Mary Cybulski/Universal Pictures)
With so many different, potent creatives forces unified in this production, you are really able to see, through different sorts of individuals, 'the Forgotten Borough’ as one interconnected body. Last week, on the Vulture comedy journalism podcast Good One, Apatow spoke of really trying to capture the diverse facets of Staten Island for this film.
As I was discussing a bit earlier, this film looks at the world through the eyes of characters who thrive in an environment that is diverse, in reference to areas of affluence. As opposed to Apatow’s previous portrayals of stories in big cities, like Los Angeles and New York City, Staten Island, like any place, has its areas of both wealth and poverty. We get a good view of each of these ‘zones' in the movie (with Davidson’s character, at one point in the film, making a quip referencing the weird correlation between Staten Island, wealth, and how the two don’t mix. No spoiler). And I mention this only because this aspect enables us to look at our characters through a particular sector of their life (and, one could say, their overall alignment in their community).
Apatow continued to speak of his attempts to portray these different types of people in reference to lifestyle, as well as personality, and briefly described a few human distinctions. There are those who are locked in a productive lifestyle of service and content (represented by the characters of Scott’s mom, Margie— a nurse— and Ray—a fireman). Then there are the individuals who are “hyperachievers”, who work and slave to leave the nest for a different, better life (like Scott’s sister, Claire, who goes to university). And lastly referenced is the individual who inversely reflects both of these outlooks, those who, “don't believe they can do anything amazing with their lives.” The ones who have, "stopped dreaming” (this is the “category” Davidson's character falls into, along with some of his friends, as, due to his own insecurities, he puts in questionable effort into pursuing his dreams of becoming a 'tattooist'). While much more subtle than I present it here, I appreciate how this film doesn’t look at things though some black-and-white’ filter. The 'gray areas’ of limbo in above, below, and between are what I find most interesting. Very humanizing, this story.
Margie and her son, Scott, share an enjoyable movie night. (Mary Cybulski/Universal Pictures)
Anyway, getting back on concluding track now (for real this time), Judd Apatow’s films are unfeigned works of comedy, and now drama, that bring joy, empathy, and comfort to countless numbers. But a lot of people tend to forget that this is also a good deal for the people who star in it too. When on the topic of recruiting/casting for his films, Apatow speaks of always trying to promote fresh talent alongside the great rows of heavy-hitting comedians involved.
In fact, Apatow is largely responsible for giving many comedians and actors their big breaks; you might be familiar with a few of their names: James Franco, Seth Rogen, Jason Segel, Jonah Hill, Ken Jeong, Linda Cardellini, Adam Scott, Martin Starr, and, coincidentally, Pete Davidson (with a cameo role in his 2015 comedy, about relationships, Trainwreck), with a laundry list more to read. Apatow continues to exhibit and motivate this fantastic type of inclusion and representation, not just in his films but, in the industries of film and comedy. It’s an inexplicably exciting event to watch new faces and funny minds, at least, enter our periphery after they are given this powerful kind of career launch, as they continue to develop their individual voices (a sort of fun “guarantee” you could say Apatow gives in his films). With this in mind, I’ll have just one more thing to look forward to as I return to watch the director’s works with a new sense of appreciation and awe, as well as watch and hope as some, if not all, of the film’s members move on to greater success because of this film.
Conclusion.
Scott and his freind/semi-girlfriend, Kelsey (played by Bel Powley), share a moment. (Mary Cybulski/Universal Pictures)
Again, I have a difficult relationship with the fact that I can’t express every idea, feeling, and emotion that pass through me during watching a film like this (I also have a strict “no-spoiler policy". So, yeah), so I have some confidence that these long thoughts will (need to) suffice.
The music in the film, composed by Michael Andrews (Donnie Darko, The Big Sick, Freaks and Geeks), is something I wanted to give focus to, for a brief moment. Andrew’s minimalistic score provides a perfect accompaniment to the serene tumult Davidson’s character navigates, with a not-quite-happy, but not-quite-depressed electro-chill vibe, that’s just wonderful. Another iconic beat present is a song that could be no more fitting for this particular movie, even if it tried to be. "Pursuit of Happiness (Nightmare)” by Kid Cudi, a recognizable tune, feels like the unspoken theme of this film, playing both in the film and its trailer. While you’d think the song’s relevance to the film stops merely at its title ("Pursuit for Happiness”), there’s actually a story behind it’s insertion that connects Davidson even more deeply to this project.
Throughout the years, Pete Davidson has spoken candidly about his long history of mental illness and his attempts to treat it (starting in his early teens). In one interview from 2017, Davidson referenced a particular time in his younger life when he was heavily depressed, giving serious consideration to his suicidal thoughts, but that Kid Cudi’s 2009 album "Man on the Moon” was fully responsible for pulling the comedian out of the void. He claimed that the 36-year old rap artist’s music “saved my life”, saying without it “I would’ve killed myself. Absolutely 100%.” What a beautiful meaning to enhance the lyrics of hopeful struggle in this dreamy song, adding yet another layer of reality to this evocative story.
Scott pays a visit to the fire station his dad was once posted at. (Mary Cybulski/Universal Pictures)
I really did connect with this film on a genuine level, and with Davidson’s character, in particular. While I’ve been fortunate enough not lose any family member/friend to any tragedy in my own life, I do, however, know the utter despair and sense of helplessness depression brings with it. The sort of existence of arrested development and pain that Scott finds himself in is something I have certainly dealt with (and continue to cope with even to this day). I believe audience members, individuals from all different walks of life, will be able to find a universal comfort in Scott’s narrative, whether you personally relate, or are given some insight into the human struggle; these themes include dealing with anxiety and trauma (facing ‘uncertainty’), navigating all manner of relationships (romantic and familial), and coming to grips with your faults, your future, and the idea of making the most out out of your life (insecurities about time-waste, and/or the worrisome notion of "late-blooming")— basically, as Scott says, getting your “shit together”. Simply said, I feel each of us sustains some part of Scott as a fellow person.
But, unlike the tradition many comedies have to conclude stories on the upbeat notion of “and they lived happily ever after" (romantic comedies, in particular, follow this frame. Relaxing with a good rom-com is still a favorite pastime of mine), The King of Staten Island is a movie that resembles much less of an ‘escape’ than it does a 'life drawing'. Apatow seems to address a more complete demographic of people with his depiction of characters who, are equally charismatic and absorbing to those starring in his other films but, simply, interact with the world around them in a manner that feels much more 'true-to life'. Every factor of production (dialogue, cinematography, wardrobe, etc.) fluidly intersects, to bring audiences a faithful, gorgeous, humorous, subtle, moving, and fulfilling portrait of the relatable "small-town community" scape of Staten Island (one which local residents can invest full pride in).
And now, the question arises of what Pete Davidson’s, already booming, career will look like after this momentous film of his. Besides his acclaimed role on SNL, a fabulous new stand-up special on Netflix, and an increasing number of appearances on various shows and movies, I think predictions can be made about Pete’s future role in the comedy movie scene. So far, he only has two starring film roles (obviously, one in this film, and another in a comedy/drama Hulu Original, Big Time Adolescence. Having just seen it, all I’ll say is that it’s worth *somewhat* of a checkout). While Davidson’s acting chops are great in all of these films, it seems a bit like he’s playing alternations of himself: a narcissistic pothead who spits sarcasm by the second. And whether or not Davidson will go on to hold roles in less comedy-oriented dramas, thrillers, etc., (like Adam Sandler’s celebrated performance in last years Safdie Brother thriller, Uncut Gems, or the critical classic of Jim Carrey in The Truman Show) is another question that will answer itself as time goes on. But regardless of what movies or characters Davidson may bring to life, I’m just excited at the mere thought of keeping up with the incredibly gifted (young) funnyman.
Davidson’s character oozes a lovely grin, whilst fireworks doing their thing in the back. A happy shot indeed. (Mary Cybulski/Universal Pictures)
In review (*repetition alert*), The King of Staten Island probably holds the place, currently, as my favorite movie of 2020 (even though there’s not been much competition from the theaters. Corona did cinema dirty this year), but it felt like such an honor to watch a story that is so transparent in its telling, with identically passionate and honest filmmakers and actors (so talented) who enable the audience to feel present at every single moment of the movie. This is a film that deals with so many components of life in a, at times, lighthearted and comical fashion, that brilliantly blends with its more deeply-seated moments. In an odd sort of way, this film reminded me of a ‘coming-of-age story, where the precariousness of life is tackled blindly by an immature and flawed character, who, through experience/adventure then may come to learn how to grow as a person and enter society as a "new person” (that’s the 'nutshell version’).
Judd Apatow and Pete Davidson could not have created a better film inspired by the trauma [Davidson] has spent years learning to manage and understand. Overall, this film just feels like a very sincere and familial production, that emits such authenticity, empathy, and enthusiasm from its every pore (or tattoo of a pore). And as Apatow adds dramatic storytelling to his list of skills, no one can describe the excitement, I feel, for his future projects, and the effects this film may have on how other stories approach a type of comedy (fantastic job Mr. Apatow).
But in the end, one could say this whole thing does come back to Pete Davidson’s journey, a story he continues to lead with great humor, talent, love, and success today, due to his laborious efforts and those of his family and friends. And, with much sentiment, one could also conclude that the blood of Davidson's smashing career moves to eternally honor the memory of his father’s ultimate sacrifice (RIP).
The King of Staten Island is currently available for rental on VOD.
