Rupert Pupkin, an autograph hound hungry for fame, declares himself a stand-up comic. His sense of humor is minimal. E.g.: His friend Rita says, "Jesus Christ! Rupert Pupkin!" He replies, "The two of us are often confused, he's the one with the famous father." Quick, but formulaic, not fresh. He's no Jack Paar, or Steve Allen, or Johnny Carson. We are on a downhill trajectory, where celebrity is valued above talent.
As Pupkin, Robert De Niro manages a brinkmanship performance between lighthearted (his demeanor) and heavy-handed (his tactics) that is nothing short of superb; without him, the rating would be halved. Pupkin idolizes talk show host Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis, also fine), and he's not alone-- fans implausibly mob Jerry like he's Rod Stewart (the movie is set in 1976). But Pupkin wants to BE Jerry. He has elaborate fantasies about him, which Scorsese shows, so parts of the movie are in Pupkin's head. But his reality, when he isn't stalking Jerry, is a room furnished like a talk show stage set, where he sits with cardboard cutouts of Jerry and Liza Minnelli and banters: a one-man Rat Pack.
What Pupkin does not do on that set is hone material, so we don't know if he is even capable of sustaining a stand-up routine-- which is just enough mystery to keep our curiosity alive during, sorry to say, what drags on as a rather spineless one-note satire. If only Scorsese didn't wallow in cinema: the 109-minute run time could easily have been 97 (same as "After Hours," his only shorter movie). Even the opening credits are protracted because the font is so large that most names get their own screen. The fatal flaw, though, is the tiresomely repetitive dialog. Prolixity makes sense for Pupkin, whose signature characteristic is persistence. But almost every character-- from network executives to security guards-- is tediously long-winded, which slows the movie to a crawl. The kidnapping sequence disappoints, too, but that's because of two dire mistakes: pointing a camera at Sandra Bernhard, and letting her speak.
When Pupkin finally performs his routine, it turns out to be worth the wait. After a few formulaic New Jersey jokes, he twists into a disturbing riff about his alcoholic parents ("...until I was 13 I thought throwing up was a sign of maturity") and getting beaten up by classmates ("I was the youngest kid in the history of the school to graduate in traction") that builds to publicly confessing that he got on the show only by holding Jerry hostage. It's brilliant.
Pupkin is arrested by authorities, spends two years in jail, and emerges to (1) become even more famous because of his best-seller about the kidnapping, finally getting his own talk show, or (2) have another elaborate fantasy about being famous because of his best-seller and getting a talk-show.
You decide; I stopped caring.
As Pupkin, Robert De Niro manages a brinkmanship performance between lighthearted (his demeanor) and heavy-handed (his tactics) that is nothing short of superb; without him, the rating would be halved. Pupkin idolizes talk show host Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis, also fine), and he's not alone-- fans implausibly mob Jerry like he's Rod Stewart (the movie is set in 1976). But Pupkin wants to BE Jerry. He has elaborate fantasies about him, which Scorsese shows, so parts of the movie are in Pupkin's head. But his reality, when he isn't stalking Jerry, is a room furnished like a talk show stage set, where he sits with cardboard cutouts of Jerry and Liza Minnelli and banters: a one-man Rat Pack.
What Pupkin does not do on that set is hone material, so we don't know if he is even capable of sustaining a stand-up routine-- which is just enough mystery to keep our curiosity alive during, sorry to say, what drags on as a rather spineless one-note satire. If only Scorsese didn't wallow in cinema: the 109-minute run time could easily have been 97 (same as "After Hours," his only shorter movie). Even the opening credits are protracted because the font is so large that most names get their own screen. The fatal flaw, though, is the tiresomely repetitive dialog. Prolixity makes sense for Pupkin, whose signature characteristic is persistence. But almost every character-- from network executives to security guards-- is tediously long-winded, which slows the movie to a crawl. The kidnapping sequence disappoints, too, but that's because of two dire mistakes: pointing a camera at Sandra Bernhard, and letting her speak.
When Pupkin finally performs his routine, it turns out to be worth the wait. After a few formulaic New Jersey jokes, he twists into a disturbing riff about his alcoholic parents ("...until I was 13 I thought throwing up was a sign of maturity") and getting beaten up by classmates ("I was the youngest kid in the history of the school to graduate in traction") that builds to publicly confessing that he got on the show only by holding Jerry hostage. It's brilliant.
Pupkin is arrested by authorities, spends two years in jail, and emerges to (1) become even more famous because of his best-seller about the kidnapping, finally getting his own talk show, or (2) have another elaborate fantasy about being famous because of his best-seller and getting a talk-show.
You decide; I stopped caring.