“THE KING OF STATEN ISLAND” My rating: C
136 minutes | MPAA rating: R
Viewers who make it to the third act of “The King of Staten Island” will find that this Pete Davidson starrer actually has a heart beneath its smarmy exterior.
Getting to that point, though, is a slog.
Directed by Judd Apatow (according to the credits, anyway…there were moments when I wasn’t sure anyone was in charge) and co-written by “SNL” star Davidson as a tribute to his fireman father who died on 9-11, “The King of Staten Island” is a comedy/drama that never really satisfies on either count.
When we first meet Davidson’s Scott Carlin, the 24-year-old is in his mother’s car speeding down a freeway with his eyes closed. Maybe it’s a suicide attempt; in any case, like just about everything else in Scott’s life, he manages to screw it up, doing more damage to bystanders than to himself.
Scott is instantly recognizable as a variation on the stoner/slacker persona that is Davidson’s trademark character on “Saturday Night Live,” a dopey guy who has the emotional and intellectual range of a pet gecko. The difference this time around is that we’re supposed to see him as a damaged individual as the result of losing his fireman father at age 7.
That’s the backstory. In the present, though, Scott comes off as ignorant, maddeningly self indulgent and given to Adam Sandler-level eruptions of anger.
He’s got a girlfriend (Bel Powley) who soon has had enough of him. He lives on Staten Island with his widowed mother (Marisa Tomei) and a younger sister (Maude Apatow) who, by virtue of having been too young to experience the trauma of losing her dad, is now a beacon of normalcy.
Scott hangs with a pack of meat-headed, pot-fried friends from high school (Ricky Velez, Lou Wilson, Moises Arias) who are devoting their lives to chilling, video games and singularly inept criminal enterprises.
Scott frequently behaves like an utter asshole (attempting to practice his nascent tattooing skills on a grade-school kid), which makes it all that much more difficult to root for him.
An actor of some range and depth might find a way to balance Scott’s pain against his antisocial and self-destructive tendencies. Davidson is not yet that actor; as a result Scott is more creepy than sympathetic. For big chunks of the film there’s no character advancement; this kid is doomed to repeat his idiotic behavior.
This is probably the moment to note that despite the presence of both Davidson in front of the camera and Apatow behind it, “King of Staten Island” is only nominally a comedy. Were it more overtly funny, maybe we’d be more willing to go along for the ride.
Ultimately “King…” is about how Scott finally, at long last, turns his life around. But it’s a long haul.
If Davidson’s central performance is off-putting, he is at least surrounded by an amazingly deep supporting cast. Tomei is dead on as the widow who has finally had enough of her pain-in-the-ass offspring…especially when a jealous Scott tries to sabotage her budding romance with a divorced firefighter named Ray (standup Bill Burr, more than solid in a mostly dramatic role). Kevin Corrigan pops up as a restauranteur who unwisely gives Scott a job bussing tables. Pamela Adlon is darkly amusing as Ray’s bitter ex.
And Steve Buscemi and Domenico Lombardozzi are in their element as local firefighters who, because of his father’s sacrifice, allow a homeless Scott to crash in their station house.(Before an acting career, Buscemi was a member of the NYFD; no doubt that has something to do with the authenticity of these scenes and the modicum of uplift that salvages the movie’s final moments.)
Apatow, who has always had trouble reining in even his better efforts (“Knocked Up,” “The 40-Year-Old Version), here lets “King of Staten Island” drone on for an unforgivable 2 hours and 16 minutes. Orson Welles didn’t need that much time for “Citizen Kane.”
| Robert W. Butler
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