The King of Comedy Features Martin Scorsese's Most Deranged Protagonist
Martin Scorsese has made a name for himself as perhaps the greatest film director who ever lived by depicting people and the world at its darkest. Many have tried and continue to fail in mimicking his vision and sensibilities, because they lack the subtle nuances that make Scorsese such a vigorous and lively filmmaker. No film in his filmography captures the pure essence of Scorsese's genius quite like his misunderstood and overlooked 1983 gem, The King of Comedy. The film, which has been reclaimed as a masterpiece by film scholarship and audiences alike over the last two decades, features Scorsese's most deranged protagonist, the low-level, wannabe stand-up comic, Rupert Pupkin (Robert De Niro). While he may not have the same violent tendencies as Travis Bickle, Jake LaMotta, or Tommy Devito, Rupert's stalker mentality and obsession with fame disguised as endearing ambition to the public makes him the most dangerous threat to society that Scorsese has ever put on screen.
Rupert's Deception in 'The King of Comedy'
The King of Comedy cannot be discussed in relation to Scorsese's filmography without identifying its drastic shift in visual style compared to the hallucinogenic nightmare look of Taxi Driver and the tragic balletic look of Raging Bull. Scorsese purposefully shied away from a flashy visual style in favor of something more raw and grounded, citing influence from silent cinema, and relying on more static camera shots and limited close-ups. The film does not contain the same elements of "cocaine cinema" that Scorsese practically invented, such as hyperactive editing or a radio-dial pop soundtrack, which is best exemplified during the helicopter sequence in Goodfellas. This artistic direction is designed to let the viewer's guard down, allowing them to think that The King of Comedy is not about anything sinister whatsoever. Rupert Pupkin operates under the same kind of misdirection.
On the exterior, Rupert carries himself like a pleasant man. He is very outgoing and speaks in a polite manner. He has the perfect sense of charisma and charm for someone in show business. His confidence and fashion makes it seem like he belongs in the stand-up industry. There is a shared basic understanding that making it big in the field of entertainment is an often unfair racket, so Rupert's plight to be a stand-up looks admirable, and a noble demonstration of the American Dream. But as the film's narrative continues, the truth behind Rupert's psyche begins to unravel. This man is an undeniable sociopath. Viewers start to question everything once he kidnaps late night talk show host Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis) in order to catch his big career break. The luring effect of gradual audience realization is more powerful than the immediate conclusiveness of a protagonist's immorality. In addition, there is no otherworldly complex or dream-like quality to The King of Comedy. In fact, it is direct commentary on contemporary life. Scorsese creates a sense of the ordinary, as the locations of real streets in New York carry weight to the text. One shot prior to the taping of Rupert's stand-up set on the late-night show, an unassuming panning of the camera towards the audience floor of the studio set, signals the sobering fact that the madness of this story takes place in ordinary, everyday life.
The Bleakness of 'The King of Comedy'
One of the factors as to why The King of Comedy was such a box office flop is its lack of interest in holding the audiences hand through this story filled with deep-seated cynicism and twisted black comedy. Rupert is always presented as a big joke at his surface level, which is supposed to match how the world sees the comedian in the film. Never in The King of Comedy is there the moment when it waves its hand to the audiences and condemns the character on behalf of viewers. This characterization of Rupert is unrelenting. During his climatic stand-up set, Rupert makes a remark that Langford couldn't host the show because he was "tied up." Of course, Langford was literally tied to a chair while Rupert takes his spot on T.V. The audience continues to laugh, and that's how everyone will react to Rupert because he is deceptive as a sociopath. In his other films, Scorsese's characters are handed a form of punishment for their crime and mischief, whether it's an exile to normalcy for Henry Hill in Goodfellas or death for just about everyone in The Departed. The King of Comedy is thoroughly unrelenting in its bleakness, as Rupert, after serving a light prison sentence for kidnapping, returns to the free world to become a best-selling author and lauded celebrity because of his stunt. The King of Comedy's closing shot is of a wholly satisfied Rupert soaking in the thunderous applause from an audience for his own television special. Not only does Scorsese refuse to comfort his audience, he says that you, the audience and public at large, enable people like Rupert Pupkin.
Regret, guilt, and self-punishment. All of these traits are a part of the fabric of a Scorsese protagonist. While they are inclined to commit crimes and misdemeanors, it is not without any conflicting doubts and temptations. What makes The King of Comedy so transgressive, however, is that Rupert Pupkin is free of these burdens. His own manufactured sense of self-righteousness makes him especially dangerous. He would have stooped to any valley in order to, as Rupert put it, "be a king for a night." His self-righteousness reaches the point of insulting once his stand-up set on the late show finally occurs. As it turned out, Rupert's dream was to become a painfully average comedian, with all of his jokes and deliveries coming off as half-baked. The fact that his set was so mediocre only makes the film more dreary. The King of Comedy manifested into a prophetic piece of art, as the digital age and social media world only heightened the entitlement of the average entertainer creating a false sense of importance about themselves. Rupert's unearned superiority complex is evident in his relationship with Rita (Diahnne Abbott), a bartender and high school classmate of his. Despite retaining a childlike crush on her in the present day, Rupert, created by his own self-importance, sees Rita as just a "schmuck for a lifetime" who never amounted to anything after high school, and he thinks he can "rescue" her from the despair from this run-down bar and tag along to his supposed life as the heir apparent to Jerry Langford. His delusional sense of worth and place in society and the subtle ways in which he views people around him make Rupert Pupkin the most destructive protagonist of Scorsese's career.
Even though Rupert is a lonely misfit, he is certainly not alone as a fame obsessed celebrity stalker. There is a whole community of people like Rupert who are seen fighting for autographs and attention from Jerry Langford, and even has his own accomplices in his kidnapping scheme, most notably, Masha (Sandra Bernhard). She is somehow more depraved than Rupert, and is presented with such nihilism, having no real story arc or any valid purpose in life other than spending time with Langford, that she makes the sociopathic protagonist that the audience has been on a journey with seem decent. Langford himself is shown as an unpleasant person, carrying himself with a cold demeanor and seemingly filled with self-loathing over his fame and fortune. The King of Comedy pulls no punches in its view of society, and when Rupert is perhaps the best that it can offer, then it is clear that something is rotten at the core. Because he is equally representative and a product of a culture of obsession with fame and celebrity that is omnipresent today, Rupert Pupkin is still the most deranged protagonist ever under the direction of Martin Scorsese.
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