Pete Davidson's opening act as a public figure has been lively to say the least. He's been a fixture on Saturday Night Live since 2014, generated tabloid headlines with everything from his love life to his struggles with mental health and pissed off some powerful people (the Catholic Church, Texas congressman Dan Crenshaw,) with his dark, take-no-prisoners sense of humor. Despite the level of attention he's commanded, do we really know who Davidson is? The semi-autobiographical The King of Staten Island aims to answer that by exploring how the childhood trauma of his father dying shaped him as a person.
The film's narrative imagines a world where Davidson didn't find comedy. His character Scott is a 24 year old unemployed stoner that uses the lasting emotional damage from the death of his father-who like his real life father was a firefighter who died on duty when he was a child-to justify his selfish behavior, fear of making deep emotional connections with others and willingness to quit doing something at the first sign of hardship. This approach to living is suddenly challenged when his mother (Marisa Tomei) starts dating an intense fireman (Bill Burr), whose presence threatens the comfortability of his long-standing family dynamic and forces him to deal with certain aspects of his father's death that he had previously internalized.
If that synopsis wasn't a clear enough indication, The King of Staten Island isn't the laugh-a-minute comedy audiences may have expected Davidson's first solo star vehicle to be. While there's plenty of terrific one-liners and a handful of extensive comedic bits that are pure gold, humor is more of a complement to rather than the driving force behind Scott's journey.
At its core, The King of a Staten Island is a serious character study designed to be a creative, cathartic outlet for Davidson to detail the struggles that have defined his life. As pretentious or unappealing as they may sound, he knocks it out of the park. Through his tremendous performance and the impressively nuanced script that he co-wrote with director Judd Apatow and his lifelong friend Dave Sirius, he's able to allow the viewer to empathize with how the deep trauma of his father has affected his ability and willingness to get attached to people while also acknowledging that there are instances where he weaponizes that pain in an attempt to justify his shitty behavior towards others. His refusal to sugarcoat his battles or ignore the hurt he's caused others with his actions, even if some of the events aren't entirely true to his life-is what makes this movie so quietly powerful. Being open about your experiences is never easy or fun, but it's crucial in helping develop a deeper understanding of a person's plight and how they see the world. I feel like I know Davidson better than ever after watching him pour his heart out here and I've never liked or respected him more because of it.
While this is very much Davidson's show, Apatow's role in making The King of Staten Island such a powerful film can't be minimized. From laying out a narrative framework that dramatized Davidson's struggles without stripping them of their authentic emotional power to his subdued direction to assembling a magnificent supporting cast (Tomei, Burr, Bel Powley, Maude Apatow, Steve Buscemi, Ricky Velez) to portray the people that Scott has hurt the most and ultimately help him start to change his behavior for the better, Apatow went all out to tell Davidson's story in the most honest, rewarding way possible. Finding the heart in people and situations where they're least expected is Apatow's secret weapon as a director and that gift made him the perfect choice to bring this story to the screen.
Quite frankly, I didn't realize how much I loved The King of Staten Island until I sat down to write this. It's subdued poignancy took a few days to really sink in and now I'm really in awe of what the Davidson/Apatow/Sirius team was able to pull off here. Approaching the lasting mental/emotional impact that stems from experiencing childhood trauma in such a sincere, unfiltered fashion made this a deeply moving portrait of a flawed young man who is finally starting to come to terms with the loss of his father. Davidson gives a face to every person who feels like they're an outcast because they're having a hard time dealing with their pain and his willingness to showcase his insecurities is exactly why he's a relatable rising star that an entire generation has rallied around.
The film's narrative imagines a world where Davidson didn't find comedy. His character Scott is a 24 year old unemployed stoner that uses the lasting emotional damage from the death of his father-who like his real life father was a firefighter who died on duty when he was a child-to justify his selfish behavior, fear of making deep emotional connections with others and willingness to quit doing something at the first sign of hardship. This approach to living is suddenly challenged when his mother (Marisa Tomei) starts dating an intense fireman (Bill Burr), whose presence threatens the comfortability of his long-standing family dynamic and forces him to deal with certain aspects of his father's death that he had previously internalized.
If that synopsis wasn't a clear enough indication, The King of Staten Island isn't the laugh-a-minute comedy audiences may have expected Davidson's first solo star vehicle to be. While there's plenty of terrific one-liners and a handful of extensive comedic bits that are pure gold, humor is more of a complement to rather than the driving force behind Scott's journey.
At its core, The King of a Staten Island is a serious character study designed to be a creative, cathartic outlet for Davidson to detail the struggles that have defined his life. As pretentious or unappealing as they may sound, he knocks it out of the park. Through his tremendous performance and the impressively nuanced script that he co-wrote with director Judd Apatow and his lifelong friend Dave Sirius, he's able to allow the viewer to empathize with how the deep trauma of his father has affected his ability and willingness to get attached to people while also acknowledging that there are instances where he weaponizes that pain in an attempt to justify his shitty behavior towards others. His refusal to sugarcoat his battles or ignore the hurt he's caused others with his actions, even if some of the events aren't entirely true to his life-is what makes this movie so quietly powerful. Being open about your experiences is never easy or fun, but it's crucial in helping develop a deeper understanding of a person's plight and how they see the world. I feel like I know Davidson better than ever after watching him pour his heart out here and I've never liked or respected him more because of it.
While this is very much Davidson's show, Apatow's role in making The King of Staten Island such a powerful film can't be minimized. From laying out a narrative framework that dramatized Davidson's struggles without stripping them of their authentic emotional power to his subdued direction to assembling a magnificent supporting cast (Tomei, Burr, Bel Powley, Maude Apatow, Steve Buscemi, Ricky Velez) to portray the people that Scott has hurt the most and ultimately help him start to change his behavior for the better, Apatow went all out to tell Davidson's story in the most honest, rewarding way possible. Finding the heart in people and situations where they're least expected is Apatow's secret weapon as a director and that gift made him the perfect choice to bring this story to the screen.
Quite frankly, I didn't realize how much I loved The King of Staten Island until I sat down to write this. It's subdued poignancy took a few days to really sink in and now I'm really in awe of what the Davidson/Apatow/Sirius team was able to pull off here. Approaching the lasting mental/emotional impact that stems from experiencing childhood trauma in such a sincere, unfiltered fashion made this a deeply moving portrait of a flawed young man who is finally starting to come to terms with the loss of his father. Davidson gives a face to every person who feels like they're an outcast because they're having a hard time dealing with their pain and his willingness to showcase his insecurities is exactly why he's a relatable rising star that an entire generation has rallied around.
Grade: A-
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