The King of Staten Island – Apatow’s Love Letter To The Precarious Nature Of Life

Judd Apatow is responsible for many of my favorite comedies. Before we get to it, I have a story. In the wake of Freaks and Geeks, Apatow made another tv show: Undeclared. In one episode, the group of students plays a prank and duct tapes someone inside of a phone booth. This tickled me to no end. So much so, that I concocted a similar plan to carry out with my brother and two of our friends. Unfortunately, there were no longer any phone booths in our town so the plan had to be adjusted. What I came up with was to wait at a local diner and when someone parked in the back and then entered the diner, we would duct tape their car shut. We tested the plan out on another car in a different parking lot. Two people up top and two people laying on the ground, passing the roll of tape between each of us — this way the duct tape would wrap from roof to undercarriage. We executed the plan to perfection — nearly.

We unwittingly chose the car belonging to the daughter of the chief of police.

Long story short: my plan accidentally got my brother arrested.

On to the task at hand.

Apatow’ s latest effort is, The King of Staten Island. The film is partly inspired by star Pete Davidson’s real life. First off, Davidson is great in this film. He has an odd charm. I don’t know how else to put that because it’s indescribable. Davidson has something unique on screen where he can equally make you groan while still rooting for him. This is also due in part to a terrific and realistic script. One thing that is universal in Apatow films is how natural his characters talk to and act around each other. His films are shaggy and maybe run too long in spots for some viewers. This has never been the case for me. I’ve mentioned this countless times here but it bears repeating: character over plot. There is no discernible plot in this film other than if Pete’s character will ever properly deal with the trauma of his father’s death and actually grow up. There is no real resolution because his journey is our journey and our journey is never finished until the day we die. Instead, Apatow loads the film with scenes of friends and acquaintances just shooting the shit and I am here for all of it. The scene’s with the friends are countered with more serious ones involving the family. Everyone is still dealing with not only their own shit but everyone else’s shit as well. Everything feels so natural. I love the ebb and flow in the tone.

Eventually, Pete’s mother, played wonderfully by Marisa Tomei, wants to try and move on with her life. She begins to date a neighbor played by Bill Burr. Pete immediately hates him for obvious infantile reasons but goes apoplectic when he finds out that Burr is a firefighter. This kicks the biggest plot point of the film and focuses the story for a bit. We can feel how personal this all is for Pete in real life. After all, his father was a firefighter who died on September 11, 2001. In the film, his father also perished in a fire and Pete cannot fathom why his mother would want to potentially go through that again. There is also an incredible conversation about why firefighters would have children and potentially scar them for life when they tragically died. The film cuts deep when it wants to. This is also when we meet Steve Buscemi as a firefighter in the same house as Bill Burr. Now, I didn’t know that Buscemi was a firefighter in real life before becoming an actor. On top of that, he went back to work after September 11th in order to help with the rescue efforts — amazing and heroic. In the film, Buscemi steals it all in only a handful of scenes. His sincerity rings loud and echoes throughout our hearts and minds.

The film still reserves plenty of time for idiotic antics and weird asides. There is a scene featuring Action Bronson, a real life rapper, as he stops by the firehouse looking for help. The entire crew is on a call and only Pete is there sweeping the floors. Bronson has been shot or stabbed or something — he is hilariously vague about what happened to him. It all almost feels like an SNL sketch or something ripped from another film. This is what I love about Apatow: if it works, it goes in. The scene is odd and misplaced on the surface but actually provides much needed levity from the more serious subject matter the film begins to delve into. Apatow is an expert at this. As serious as Burr’s character is on the surface, Burr plays him with a maniacal grace that provides gut busting laughs. It’s a thing that permeates every moment of the film.

This is what I appreciate most about Apatow’s work — it’s real. He views life like a bodega shelf — there’s a little bit of everything taking up space. It may be dusty. It may be expired. But it may just be exactly what you’re looking for.

Next week I was planning on doing a piece on season three of Westworld but the truth is I don’t have much to say about it other than I didn’t like season three of Westworld. There it is. Print the review. Instead, I think I’ll write about an awesome horror movie, The Color Out Of Space. Until then, love each other.

Gilliam Friday #12 – The Wrap-Up

We find ourselves at the end of the Terry Gilliam project — twelve straight weeks of the madman’s work. We began with his Monty Python efforts and ended with his finally finished dream project, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote. What a ride. I was reminded of films I loved, found new love for films I originally struggled with, and some old loves now fell flat. Throughout this project, I was reminded that from a visual standpoint, Gilliam stands alone. His films are each unique in their own way and even more when compared to where cinema was in general when each of those films released.

But seriously, what did I learn from all of this?

Let us begin with Gilliam as a visual artist. Every single film he has ever crafted has been visually stunning. He is a true auteur, unafraid of any subject matter and uncompromising in his vision. He forces the viewer to buy in. Whatever you gain from viewing his work will always come on his terms. This is something that will shut down some viewers and keep them away. The flip side to this ideal is that those who buy in willingly, typically come away astonished. I also learned that Gilliam hates bureaucracy — hates it. Most of his films have a subtext dealing with the annoyance of red tape and failed governance. He is also an artist obsessed with paranoia and juxtaposition. You will find this on a constant basis in his films with the palettes he uses and his deep focus camera shots. Everything in his films is heightened in order to hold the viewer’s supreme focus while still keeping them off balance.

One other thing we must get to right away is that I now wonder if Gilliam has a problem with women. It cannot be overstated that his comments earlier this year about how tired he is that white men get blamed for everything, is extremely troubling. He has also thrown support behind Harvey Weinstein which is blatantly wrong-headed. I don’t sanction or agree with any of this — hard pass for me. With that said, I wonder where this stems from? And that’s the craziest aspect of all of this: Gilliam the person is still largely a mystery. We can infer all of these things we’ve already discussed but he has still managed to keep us all at bay — protecting his innermost desires to the end. I both like and dislike how he views the world. He paints in his films with a childlike wonder. Gilliam shows us worlds that are like electric carnivals used as a mask for societal rot and despair. He also shows heart here, especially with how he depicts the homeless in many of his films — the unfortunates are ignored and trampled by the powerful. This is in stark contrast to his depiction of women in most of his films. The truth is, as I’ve gone film to film, the women are mostly seen as annoying, trouble, or both. Many times they are devices to serve the plot. His visual talent is so extraordinary that I think these themes become overshadowed but they are there if you look hard enough. Two films stand out to me where this was not the case: The Fisher King and Twelve Monkeys. They also happen to be two films that Gilliam did not write. This definitely begs for further discussion.

The final thing we’ll discuss today is how Gilliam’s career is split into three sections (and hopefully an upcoming fourth). His early work is where he found his feet. Working as a member of the Python troupe allowed him creative freedom. It’s the least populated portion of his career. He followed this up with a thirteen year prime where he dealt masterful film after masterful film. This is an insane run from a filmmaker uninterested in making typical studio fare. Brazil, The Adventures Of Baron Munchausen, The Fisher King, Twelve Monkeys, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Any filmmaker would kill to make one of these films. Gilliam made them all…in a row.

Of course, with the highs come the lows. Gilliam’s disastrous attempt to make his dream project, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, derailed his career. He then entered a ten year funk where he still hit some high notes but his films felt more disjointed and angry — lacking the intrepid energy from his earlier work. He began to regain his footing with The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus and again, tragedy struck that film multiple times.

Terry Gilliam finally got the proverbial monkey off his back when his dream was finally realized. The Man Who Killed Don Quixote showed me that the madman still has the goods to be a true auteur. We will see if he has the stuff to give us some more to chew on.

I’ll leave you with this, a ranking of his solo films. This means that I’m not counting the python work. Worst to first, here we go:

The Brothers Grimm

The Zero Theorem

Jabberwocky

Time Bandits

Tideland

The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus

The Man Who Killed Don Quixote

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen

Brazil

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Twelve Monkeys

The Fisher King

And that is a wrap. I had fun revisiting these films and filmmaker I have adored nearly my entire life. I found it enlightening and not always in a good way. I now look at Gilliam a little differently because of his depiction of women on film — something I was either not able to see while younger or just willfully ignorant of until now. I guess I learned some things about myself as well — things I still need to work on. I’m willing to do the work.

Next up on the docket is another of my faves, Sofia Coppola. I’ll outline the project next week and then dive into The Virgin Suicides on Friday, September 18th. Until then, love each other.

My Favorite Color – A New Poem

The color blue reminds me of my childhood
Of the cool ocean water crashing over me
As I laugh my way through summer on the coast
*
My mother and her mother pack sandwiches
And beach sandwiches are the best sandwiches
My mother’s mother’s mother fries up breakfast scrapple
As my brother and I wake in the attic
Our sleep, the best sleep, in military cots thirty years old
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The sound of laughter and delightful screams
As us children chase each other around a seashell driveway
We take our meals on the screened-in porch
While the adults play cards into the night
We pilfer candy from a jar while everyone pretends not to notice
*
The color blue sends me back in time
And allows me to remember what matters most
We become immortal through our memories
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