On ‘The King of Comedy’ and the Unsettling Nature of an Unsexy De Niro
Veronica Phillips analyzes the peculiar charisma — and sometimes lack thereof — of frequent Scorsese collaborator Robert De Niro.
The King of Comedy (1982) opens with some sparse title cards: “Arnon Milchan Presents… a Martin Scorsese Picture… starring Robert De Niro.” These words feel like they hold an implicit promise, a cinematic contract. By 1982, with Mean Streets (1973), Taxi Driver (1976), New York, New York (1977), and Raging Bull (1980) already under their belts, Scorsese and De Niro’s cinematic relationship had become increasingly defined. We know that Scorsese knows how to coax out that capital-M Movie Star charisma from within De Niro, and his ability to be attractive, suave, quietly confident, perhaps a little aloof. Under Scorsese’s watch, De Niro could play someone a little dark, a little dangerous, often quiet or intense — someone with that overwhelming charisma, that compelling draw.
But when we finally see De Niro in action in The King of Comedy as the thirty-something-year-old Rupert Pupkin — mustached, hair slicked, bow-tied, and powder-blue-suited — it is clear that this imagined contract of traditional movie stardom is not being upheld. The anticipated hum of charisma beneath De Niro’s performances has been ripped away. To put it bluntly, De Niro is playing a complete and utter loser.
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