The King of Staten Island – Review

The King of Staten Island

Directed by: Judd Apatow

Runtime: 136 minutes

When we’re first introduced to The King of Staten Island’s titular sovereign, Scott Carlin (played affably by SNL’s Pete Davidson), he’s alone in his car and midway through a game of blind chicken with highway traffic. As an opening scene, it’s a little disorienting, and there are certainly easier ways to commit suicide (and ones that involve far less collateral damage). Yet, after a brief and entirely self-inflicted brush with death, Scott is thankful to be alive and suitably apologetic to no one in particular, revealing to the audience a set of telling emotional responses that perfectly encapsulate his misdirected sense of ennui, adolescent sundowning, and millennial malaise. Directed and produced by comedy legend Judd Apatow, from a script co-written by Davidson and Dave Sirus, The King of Staten Island is a drama about a nobody from nowhere who can’t help but do nothing.

Scott, our hapless protagonist, is a 24-year old high school drop-out who lives at home with his mother Margie (Marisa Tomei) and sister Claire (Maude Apatow). His father, Stan, was a firefighter who died on the job when Scott was a young boy, and this childhood trauma continues to haunt the working-class family like a suburban spectre. Scott mopes around empty streets with a dark, laconic sense of humour, joking about his father’s death and spends his idle time doing not much of anything: taking drugs and talking shit with his deadbeat friends, selling the aforementioned drugs with said deadbeat friends, having sex with one of his childhood friends, etc. It’s an all-too-familiar rhythm for anyone born on the latter side of the 80s, and this total lack of experiential momentum has Scott feeling aimless and unmoored.

For much of the film’s first and second acts, there’s no real sense of drive or purpose to the story being told; a narrative decision which appears to mirror Scott’s meandering existence. Scott dreams of being a tattoo artist, practising on himself and anyone brave enough to surrender up their flesh, yet he lacks the drive (and, more crucially, the talent) to truly succeed. His close friend and casual sexual partner, Kelsey (Bel Powley), wants more from their relationship, yet Scott is afraid to commit because he feels like a burden to those around him. Scott also suffers from numerous ailments—Crohn’s disease, ADHD, drug addiction—and, accordingly, he’s wracked with indecision at the very thought of making any long-term choices. However, once Ray (played by a moustachioed Bill Burr) appears on the scene as another father figure, firefighter, and potential love-interest for Margie, things slowly start to kick along as Scott is forced to make decisions about what he wants from work, love, and life.

Certain expectations go into an Apatow feature, and in this respect, The King of Staten Island skews closer to the director’s later works—think less The 40-Year-Old Virgin (2005) and Knocked Up (2007), and more Funny People (2009) and Trainwreck (2015). Davidson gives a commendable performance as Scott, and the loosely autobiographical nature of the script proves a welcome setting for his dramatic talents. However, the film is plagued by inconsistencies in tone and delivery, dragging down the lighter moments and giving the more dramatic beats strange, manic energy. The film’s best jokes land when Davidson has a chance to bounce off of more significant personalities, most noticeably alongside a slew of great cameo performances from the likes of Steve Buscemi, Pamela Adlon, Kevin Corrigan, and Ariyan ‘Action Bronson’ Arslani.

While The King of Staten Island isn’t afraid to face big issues, like death, familial neglect and abandonment, mental health, and personal responsibility, the film’s most enjoyable moments come when the cast leans right into the idea of spontaneous absurdity as the cure for suburban stagnation and stasis. Highlights include a doomed midnight robbery, exposing a friend’s catfish lover, beachside tattoo sessions, hedonistic college revelry, backyard pool wrestling, and many fire-station hijinks. Despite an uneven tone and a running time that outstays its interest, Apatow and Davidson deliver an admirable film that’s full of solid performances, tender moments, and plenty of genuine laughs.