Spoilers for The King of Comedy (1982)
The King of Comedy is a strange entry in Martin Scorsese’s filmography. It was a flop on release; Scorsese himself has spoken of his regrets about making the film; the production was a tense affair due to stylistic differences between Jerry Lewis and Robert De Niro.
It’s not the big stylish take on masculinity that characterised the collaborations between Scorsese and De Niro, nor is it the reflective epic that the director would later punctuate his more accessible works with.
Yet it’s become a hugely influential film. You only need to look at Todd Phillips’ 2019 film Joker, which went on to be the first R-rated film to gross over $1 billion at the box office. Phillips and co-writer Scott Silver not only borrowed liberally from the storyline of The King of Comedy but brought in De Niro to play a substitute for the Jerry Lewis character.
The King of Comedy follows De Niro as Rupert Pupkin; an aspiring stand-up comedian and autograph hunter who believes his big break has come after a somewhat forced interaction with late-night host Jerry Langford (Lewis). From here a series of imagined and real events lead Pupkin to kidnap Langford when he feels overlooked by the star.
What’s interesting about the film is how Scorsese combines fantasy and reality. There are no obvious breaks when Pupkin starts imagining his life as a star – although the dialogue quickly gives it away. With no visual clues, the audience is allowed to decide which aspects are real and which are not.
This is in stark contrast to Joker, where Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) is completely delusional. In The King of Comedy, Pupkin is eventually shown to be a very capable standup comedian, someone who could potentially ‘make it’ if he hadn’t allowed his obsession to rule him.
But while the film is focused on Pupkin, it is far more critical of fandom and public expectations in general. What’s interesting is how fandom is shown to work on multiple levels, and the character of Langford reacts to each type of fan differently. Masha (Sandra Bernhard), a friend of Pupkin and a fellow Langford fan is shown to be a step beyond even Pupkin in her obsession – to the point where Pupkin questions her actions.
In the opening scene, we see hundreds of Mashas crowding Langford as he leaves the studio, giving Pupkin the opening he needs – appearing to be a ‘normal’ fan – to get close to his idol.
These more obsessive people would make up a small, but incredibly vocal, part of Langford’s fanbase. What about the regular people on the street? In a key scene, we see Langford leave his apartment. He shares banter with a cab driver and waves to people who call his name. In a neat touch, Lewis used his first name for the character so that they could get genuine reactions from the non-actors used.
Then he sees an old lady using a payphone. The old lady recognises Langford and asks him to speak to her nephew. Langford politely refuses and she responds:
“You should only get cancer! I hope you get cancer!”
It’s played for laughs. Lewis almost double takes when it is said, and yet Scorsese and writer Paul D. Zimmerman aren’t making a joke here. It’s explicitly highlighting the negative attitudes of fans. The old lady may not be standing outside Langford’s apartment or sneaking into his car to try and initiate a sexual encounter, but she is as demanding as the obsessive fans.
There’s a certain level of fame where we suddenly stop treating people as human beings. We expect them to be always on; always willing to give up their time for us. The cliché that we – the audience – make famous people famous has some truth to it. They are reliant on our views, and our money at the box office, and some play up to it. But there are just as many who are talented and creative and who became famous despite their discomfort.
This has become even worse in the social media age, where filters have been removed because we can spout opinions from behind our keyboards. We can digitally track our favourite celebrity’s every move and find out personal details easier than ever. The King of Comedy persists because it was twenty years ahead of its time.
Even worse, Pupkin knows this. His fantasies include Langford moaning about fans and warning Pupkin not to become famous, and yet he persists. Even worse, the public gives him that attention. After kidnapping Langford and going to prison, Pupkin is offered book deals, comedy tours and talk show appearances. While it’s unclear whether these moments are fantasy or reality, we can assume that it’s real because we have seen this happen in real life.
Pupkin, a mentally unwell man, is thrust into the limelight for his infamous actions. To a position where the general public feels entitled enough to wish a terminal illness upon you.
Director: Martin Scorsese
Writer: Paul D. Zimmerman
Starring: Robert De Niro, Jerry Lewis, Diahnne Abbott, Sandra Bernhard