The inimitable Rupert Pupkin (Robert De Niro) imagines quite a career for himself in THE KING OF COMEDY
THE KING OF COMEDY (Martin Scorsese, 1982)
Film Forum
209 West Houston St.
June 24-30
212-727-8110
filmforum.org
Jerry Lewis is back in the news right now with the surprise online appearance of clips from his notorious unreleased 1972 film The Day the Clown Cried, a Holocaust picture believed to be so disastrous that he has vowed it will never see the light of day. But from June 24 to 30 at Film Forum, you can revisit one of the former MDA telethon host’s best performances, in Martin Scorsese’s vastly underrated and underappreciated 1982 masterpiece, The King of Comedy. Lewis stars as Jerry Langford, the host of a massively popular late-night television show. (The part was initially offered to Johnny Carson, who turned it down.) Lewis is one cool, calm customer as the smooth, elegant Langford, a far cry from his familiar caricatures in such films as The Bellboy, The Patsy, and The Nutty Professor. The most fascinating role in the film, however, is his stalker, wannabe-comedian Rupert Pupkin (Robert De Niro), who is desperate to get on Jerry’s show and become part of his inner circle, as well as Masha (Sandra Bernhard), who is in love with Jerry and thinks they are destined to be together. When not hanging around Jerry’s office, harassing Langford’s right-hand associate, Cathy Long (Shelley Hack), and the receptionist (Margo Winkler), Pupkin is in the basement of his home, pretending to be a guest on the show, yakking it up with cardboard cutouts of Langford and Liza Minnelli while his mother (voiced by Scorsese’s real mom, Catherine) yells at him to do something with his life. Pupkin is also trying to impress a former high school classmate, Rita (Diahnne Abbott, who was married to De Niro at the time), a bartender who barely remembers him. When things don’t go quite as planned, Rupert and Masha try to pull off a crazy scheme to get what they feel is their destiny.
Jerry Lewis gives his most mature performance ever opposite Robert De Niro in Martin Scorsese’s THE KING OF COMEDY
Written by film critic, activist, and author Paul D. Zimmerman, The King of Comedy has held up remarkably well over the years, displaying a thrilling prescience about the state of celebrity obsession and the need to be on television well before the internet and reality shows changed the dynamic between star and fan. De Niro fully embodies the creepy, awkward, splendidly dressed Pupkin, who is essentially the illegitimate love child of Travis Bickle and Jake LaMotta as seen through the lens of Paddy Chayefsky’s Network. And Bernhard, in her first major film role, is a revelation as Masha, exhibiting an expert physicality worthy of the best cinematic comedians, with just the right amount of dark madness. Just as Pupkin goes back and forth between fantasy and reality, Scorsese keeps viewers on edge, not always differentiating between fiction and nonfiction; he has numerous familiar faces play versions of themselves, including radio and television announcer Ed Herlihy and bandleader Les Brown, Tony Randall as a guest host, longtime Carson producer Fred de Cordova as Bert Thomas, producer of The Jerry Langford Show, Dr. Joyce Brothers as one of Randall’s guests, and Emmy-winning producer Edgar Scherick as a network executive. Cinematographer Fred Schuler beautifully captures the hustle of early 1980s New York City, echoing what’s going on inside Pupkin’s deranged mind, while music adviser Robbie Robertson, a friend of Scorsese’s who was in the great Band documentary The Last Waltz, puts together a fab soundtrack that ranges from Ray Charles’s “Come Rain or Come Shine” and the Pretenders’ “Back on the Chain Gang” to Robertson’s own “Between Trains” and Van Morrison’s gorgeous closing credits song, “Wonderful Remark.” Scorsese fills the film with plenty of little treats and sweet touches. Look for the Clash’s Mick Jones, Joe Strummer, and Paul Simonon as the street punks, along with Ellen Foley, Don Letts, Kosmo Vinyl, and Pearl Harbour. In the scene in which Pupkin takes Rita to dinner, a man in the back of the restaurant is curiously mimicking Pupkin’s gesticulations. And Scorsese makes an inside-joke cameo when Randall, preparing to host The Jerry Langford Show, questions something, shrugs, and says to Scorsese, “You’re the director.” The 2013 digital restoration of The King of Comedy is playing at Film Forum June 24-30; the 7:30 show on June 24 will be introduced by Gilbert Gottfried and Frank Santopadre, on June 25 by Aparna Nancherla, and on June 29 by Mario Cantone.
Drea Cooper and Zackary Canepari’s debut feature documentary, T-Rex, is an exciting, dare we say hard-hitting look at a teenager attempting to literally fight her way out of depressed and troubled Flint, Michigan. When she was eleven years old, Claressa Shields walked into FWC Berston Gym and immediately showed the kind of skill, desire, and drive that made former professional boxer Jason Crutchfield take her under his wing as coach and mentor, thinking she had enormous potential. “A coach always wants a champion,” he says in the film. “Believe me. That’s why we coach. I just never thought it was going to be a girl.” Claressa trains every day, her sights set on becoming the first woman — actually, she’ll be a mere seventeen years old — to win a gold medal in the 2012 London Olympics, which has added the sport of women’s boxing to its wide-ranging roster of competitive sports. It’s not only a personal quest but a way to help get her poor, undereducated, broken family out of Flint. Her parents are divorced and each has a new partner, her father spent seven years in prison, and her tough-talking younger sister dreams of having ten babies. Allowing Cooper and Canepari full access, Claressa shows herself to be an exceptional boxer as well as a smart, intelligent person with a strong grasp of reality. She also has the confidence and swagger of Muhammad Ali; in fact, the relationship between the Greatest and his daughter, former world champion Laila Ali, serves as a major inspiration to her in her gritty, determined quest.
Penny Lane’s wonderfully titled, inventively told “Nuts!” tells the wacky true tale of Dr. John R. Brinkley, a pivotal twentieth-century figure who was part P. T. Barnum, part Donald Trump, a controversial doctor or a quack, a radio pioneer or a snake-oil charlatan, depending on one’s opinion. He became rich and famous by surgically implanting goat glands into men’s testicles, claiming it increased virility, but his story is about much more than that. “This is a film about John Romulus Brinkley, a doctor, amongst other things, a man who succeeded against terrible odds and powerful opposition, a man who changed the world,” narrator Gene Tognacci explains early on. Lane, who previously profiled another intriguing individual in her debut feature-length documentary, 2013’s 
Spanish writer-director Carlo Saura celebrates the history and tradition of Argentinian music and dance in the joyous documentary Argentina. The eighty-four-year-old Saura, whose previous films include Carmen, Tango, El amor brujo, and Flamenco, Flamenco, and production designer Pablo Maestre Galli built stages in a vast, empty barn in La Boca barrio of Buenos Aires City to honor such local and regional art forms as Zamba, Vidala, Chacarera, Malambo, Copla, and Chamamé. Using archival footage, silhouette-creating scrims, mirrors, and live projections, Saura and cinematographer Félix Chango Monti follow a series of set pieces with no narration or explanation, creating a simple and beautiful record of Argentinian music and dance. Among the lovely performances are pianist Horacio Lavandera playing Carlos Guastavino’s “Bailecito,” “Bagualas” featuring Mariana Carrizo, Melania Pérez, and Tomas Lipan, “La Felipe Varela” with Chaqueño Palavecino and Jimena Teruel, “Añoranzas” by Soledad Pastorutti, Metabombo’s “Ritmo de Malambo” with Carlos “Pajarín” Saavedra and Jorge “Koki” Saavedra, and “En el fondo del mal” by Gabo Ferro and Luciana Jury.