There’s been a shift in the last decade in American comedies. Where once it was the big, brash, and outrageous studio hits like There’s Something About Mary, Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy, and Superbad that dominated the genre, the 2010s saw an increasing move away from the broad sensibilities that had characterized the mainstream output of the genre during the Bush years, and more an inclination towards softer humble dramedies, with more focus on writing and character than catchphrases and absurdism. Comedy superstars were no longer being made by films like Zoolander and Old School, but by subtler fare like The Big Sick and Booksmart that paired comic tastes with a sincere heart in a way reminiscent of James L. Brooks, Penny Marshall, or Woody Allen.
And nowhere is this more apparent than in the career trajectory of arguably the biggest name in movie comedy of the twenty-first century, Judd Apatow. His latest film, The King of Staten Island, is a far cry tonally from the likes of Knocked Up and The 40 Year Old Virgin. It, like many a recent comedy movie is fused with elements of autobiography of its lead star and co-writer, SNL wunderkind Pete Davidson -who plays a stoner slacker in his mid-twenties looking for some direction in his life while still dealing with the trauma of the death of his firefighter father when he was a child. Davidsons’ own dad perished in service on 9/11 and his character, Scott is named after him.
There is nothing particularly unique about the premise of this movie, or its’ plot, which heavily concerns Scott’s mother (Marisa Tomei) dating another firefighter (Bill Burr) whom Scott takes an instant dislike to. Even the novelty of Scott being an adult himself with a childlike pettiness towards his mums’ new love interest isn’t as fresh as the movie would like it to be. His character journey independent of that, with his arrested development, lethargy, and commitment issues towards his girlfriend Kelsey (Bel Powley) are well-trodden character traits as well. However nuance is something that makes all the difference. Unlike say the pathetic man-children of Step Brothers, you legitimately connect with Scott and empathize with him, as obnoxious and careless as he sometimes is. Part of this is due to the tragic backstory, but the film doesn’t really use that as a crutch, or an excuse. More it’s the writing, which is certainly a degree more natural in the dialogue than previous Apatow efforts, and a strong sense of place and situation. The film loves Staten Island, minor league baseball team and all, and has a strong sympathy for its lower-middle class people, not always represented in media about New York where you rarely see suburbs and non-cosmopolitan characters. A perfect image of the so-called “forgotten borough.”
Scott does have ambitions too, which separates him from many a banal basement dweller archetype. As dumb as it is, he feels strongly about his tattoo parlour-restaurant, inking being one of his few demonstrated talents and passions. And though his character development is terribly cliché (even beginning with his bonding with the children of Burr’s Ray), it’s shot and scripted in a way that comes across honestly. Though The King of Staten Island is a Universal picture, it’s taking its’ cues from indies, and particularly filmmakers like Richard Linklater, Noah Baumbach, and the Duplass Brothers -another trait it shares with a lot of comedies of late.
Though the primary purpose of the movie seems to be as a love letter to the firefighting profession generally and the New York Fire Department specifically. The best parts are the scenes of Scott interacting with firefighters, whether he’s insulting Ray’s co-workers, or bonding with them after a step too far in his mothers’ patience has him kicked out of her house. Maybe the essential choice that makes these scenes work and feel less like propaganda, is the legitimacy they’re given by the inclusion of a firehouse veteran played by Steve Buscemi. By now everyone knows that Buscemi was a New York City firefighter before beginning his acting career, and moreover that he rejoined his old unit in the aftermath of 9/11 to assist in the clean-up of the World Trade Center debris. As such, his appearance in this movie is as warming as it is obvious. Davidsons’ personal history and the subject matter I imagine meant a lot to him.
It’s not just Buscemi though. You can feel how sincerely everyone involved in the film is dedicated to it. Apatow maintains some of his usual energy and trademarks -the “dopey group of friends” that in his past films helped launch Paul Rudd, Jason Segel, Jonah Hill, and Jay Baruchel to fame are here too, though in less wacky terms; and there are a couple bizarre hijinks, as coated in a realistic atmosphere as they may be. The filmmaking is more mature though, and dynamic in a way I don’t think I’ve seen from Apatow -it’s shot by Paul Thomas Andersons’ regular cinematographer Robert Elswit, so that might be why. Still, as little as it has in common with the directors’ previous filmography, there’s no deficit of soul to it (especially next to the simultaneous Artemis Fowl). On the contrary, Apatow has embraced this modern variant on the comedy movie, dignifying it and making the argument for why it should endure -to which I would offer no rebuttal; I’m quite fond of it myself. The earnest evolution of Scott and his late coming-of-age, which for as standard as it is, shuns some of the crucial beats, preferring the small personal victories over major shifts, is the central and endearing engine of The King of Staten Island -simple yet fully effective. By the end of the movie, he’s stepping (somewhat literally) into a new world and new opportunities. And the audience has faith he will make good of them.
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