You’re asking a lot, movie. Movies shouldn’t ask this much of people. It’s one thing if you’re asking me to sympathize with five minutes of Pete Davidson. Asking me, however, to side for two hours and six minutes with the 21st Century’s tribute to underachievement is a tall request. The King of Staten Island plays like Death of a Salesman was rewritten for a crowd that has no patience for basic commerce.
Occasionally hilarious, often self-deprecating, and probably what you’d get if you took a grossly overexposed photo-negative of Dennis Rodman, Pete Davidson is an acquired taste. This frequently tattooed video game character has found a home on screen because of his ability to get a laugh at his own expense. He’s good at it, and -as a result- he makes you want to like him … up to a point. And that point, for me, is right about when an SNL sketch ends. Seeing Pete as an everyday human who can’t get his shit together is spot-on; I have no trouble believing that. None. But making me watch two hours of it? Yeesh.
Scott (Davidson) is a loser. I think The King of Staten Island title is intended for either irony or, perhaps, a sadder revelation about Staten Island itself. It matters not. Lacking ambition, drive, education, connections, money, talent, and whatever else one might need to succeed, Scott can’t get his act together. He has a dream about being a tattoo artist. He even has an idea of a combo tattoo parlor/restaurant named “Ruby Tattoosdays” (HA!), but he has zero aptitude for drawing. I mean none, zilch, nada, which unfortunately is kind of a requisite for his future dream employment. We’re told that Scott can’t get his act together because his firefighting dad died when Scott was nine. But that doesn’t stop his sister from getting a college degree. Hmmmm. Geez, I sound like my grandfather. I sound like YOUR grandfather.
Plot happens when a random boy encounters Scott’s group of losers. Scott offers to tattoo the kid, which is accepted until the child realizes how much it hurts. And that evening, the small boy’s father, Ray (Bill Burr), pays a visit to yell at –and eventually date- Scott’s mom (Marisa Tomei). Fantastic, now there are three people effectively in this film: Scott, who I only appreciate in small doses, Ray, who comes off as a jerk, and mom, who is simply waiting for a good reason to kick Scott out of the house.
I hated the first two acts of this film. HATED them. The redemptive arc of Act III went a ways towards wiping away the acrid taste of Acts I & II. Writer/director Judd Apatow generally deserves the benefit of the
doubt. For years, he has proudly displayed my own mediocrity on film and made me own it. I found this Apatow bubble so enjoyable, I didn’t realize exactly how terrible it is when you don’t identify with an Apatow character. Is this how other generations view Apatow films? Would my parents find “Freaks and Geeks” a pain in the ass? They might. All I know is Act III of The King of Staten Island was waaaay too-little-too-late. By the time the key relationship in the film (Scott & Ray, believe it or not) became palatable, I’d been numbed to the screenplay and was waiting for the film to end. That’s no place for a movie to be.
You know the thing I like most about Pete Davidson? His humility. He knows he’s a screw up; He never pretends to be more than he is. And he never pretends that he’s going to deliver when he knows he can’t/won’t. Is this unique to Staten Island? I’ve noticed humility sadly lacking in every other borough (especially Queens). Yet it seems fitting that Staten Island is treated as the ugly step-sister of the lot, huh? Anyhoo, the question is whether Pete Davidson’s down-to-Earth is worth your attention for two+ hours. My answer is “no.” Hell, no.
There once was a Staten Island loser
A somewhat shiftless poster-child boozer
Over two hours of strife
Of this unexamined life
Tell me: who is the genuine abuser?
Rated R, 126 Minutes
Director: Judd Apatow
Writer: Judd Apatow & Pete Davidson & Dave Sirus
Genre: Sympathy for dishevel
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: Pete Davidson’s mom, maybe
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: The Greatest Generation
