A Staten Islander’s take on this Staten Island movie
Here's my two cents on Pete Davidson's 'The King of Staten Island.'
Last week, in one of those cataclysmic, relationship-torching arguments people have been finding themselves in during our current End Times, an unemployed member of my family who lives in Staten Island told me that I’ve “never worked a real job” and that I “live in a bubble.” As for the dig about me not working a real job, I fail to see the insult. Like Piebald said, “We’re nobody’s robots, we’re nobody’s monkeys.” But I found the bubble part ironic because Staten Island is, as you might’ve guessed from its name, an island. It is a floating land mass of trash, physically cut off from the rest of the world. Aside from erecting a huge plastic dome over it, I can’t think of a way to make it more culturally bubbular. So, as a bit of an ironic flex, I got paid money at my Not Real Job to write unkind words about the Staten Island bubble.
As a fortuitous assignment, I got to take a crack at writing about Pete Davidson’s The King of Staten Island for the Observer. Despite the fact that we are both from Staten Island, I’ve never met Davidson. He went to my high school, though several years after I graduated. After he got some money, he bought his mom a house down the street from my parents, a house that a high school friend of mine grew up in. Even though I have no particular attachment to any of his work on SNL, I’ve always been pulling for him to succeed. I greatly prefer him to SNL’s other Staten Island delegate, Colin Jost. Jost’s mother was my family doctor and every time my mom went in for a checkup I had to hear about how wonderful Colin was. “Did you hear that Colin got into Harvard?” “Did you hear Colin became the president of the Harvard Lampoon?” “Did you hear Colin got a job on SNL?” “Did you hear Colin is dating popular actress Scarlett Johansson?” Whatever, mom! I, also, could date A-list actresses if I so chose. (Side note: If any A-list actresses are reading this and would like to go on a social distance date with me in which they pay for any food we’d be eating, please get in touch.)
Davidson once made a joke about Staten Island’s disparate relationships with himself and Jost that perfectly captured the contrast between the two natives:
“You represent what they could be—a kid who got out and went to Harvard. The reason Staten Island hates me is because I represent what they are—a mentally ill community college dropout who got a Game of Thrones tattoo before watching the show.”
This was the driving premise behind The King of Staten Island (and, incidentally, the lens through which I reviewed it), so I really thought there was a chance I might enjoy the movie. Unfortunately it didn’t do it for me. Overall, it’s your run-of-the-mill Apatow film wherein he believes using Very Cinematic Mood Lighting and stretching the runtime well past two hours will mask the fact that you’re watching a serious movie about a comedian who you’ve previously seen star in movies called shit like Slappy Farcedick and The Reacharound. I know Davidson has faced hardships in his life, tragically losing his firefighting father in 9/11 as well as struggles with depression, but his eyes just do not harbor the same deep-rooted pain as someone like Sandler.
(Also, speaking of Apatow, I couldn’t fit this into the review, but his daughter Maude is in the movie, playing Davidson’s sister. And this interview with her is the most hilariously entitled shit I’ve ever seen:
“My dad talks to me about everything all the time, so he was showing me parts of the [‘King of Staten Island’] script,” she recalls. While she says they had discussed her being in the movie, she auditioned for the part. “I always want to make sure I can prove myself and that I’m right for it and that it’s not just given to me,” she says. Her father agrees, noting, “I wanted to make sure the chemistry with Pete was correct and wanted to see them together, to see what their vibe was.”
Damn wow congrats on coincidentally being the right person for the part who also happens to be the director’s daughter. Aaaaanyway….)
Not to put Davidson down, but nothing I’d previously seen of him gave me super high expectations that he could pull off the leading role in a comedic drama like this. Even Marisa Tomei, who I think is a goddamn national treasure, didn’t have room to shine in this movie. It was only Bill Burr, in the role of an FDNY firefighter, who was able to exceed expectations. Although, a correction: His character in the film is a Red Sox fan. NO. Firefighters are Yankees fans, exclusively. In no way would a NY firefighter cop to supporting the Sox.
But for me, I was more eager to see how this film, which put Staten Island right in the title, handled its setting. My take as a former Islander? Not impressed! Sure, I could nitpick at the authenticity of things like accents and spray tans, but overall, it didn’t much feel like it was even set there, which was disappointing. Staten Island’s inherent shortcomings are numerous and embarrassing, but can only truly be articulated by a native. Much to my surprise, non-native Dave Chappelle, also mentioned Staten Island in his new special this weekend (ayyy we’re on the map!):
“My wife lived in Staten Island. It’s an awful place. Everyone who’s ever been there knows it. Yuck to Staten Island. And I got a lot of fans there and friends there, but it’s a very terrible place. Fuck everybody in Staten Island except the Wu-Tang Clan.”
From a technical standpoint, yes, this checks out, but it is the standard Island-bashing pervasive in pop culture. I was hoping Davidson could’ve dissected it with a bit more nuance, but I guess that’s asking a lot of a guy that SNL trots out on Weekend Update whenever they need someone to explain to their middle-age viewers what TikTok is or be a one-line character in a sketch where he plays an eighth grader covered in tattoos for some reason. Maybe it’s not his fault. Maybe our hometown just doesn’t warrant serious reflection. Maybe it should just be the butt of cheap Wu-Tang and Jersey Shore jokes forever.
Even though I will probably never watch The King of Staten Island again, I am still pulling for Davidson to succeed. He represents all of us dirtbag Staten Islanders who refuse to work “real jobs.”
Alright, that’s really all for today. I will just add: Last week, I wrote a bit about how hopeful it felt that normal-ass people called in to the LAPD’s virtual town hall and sounded like they were spitting lyrics from a hip-hop or punk record from decades ago. Well, since then, I’ve done some protest marching here in Los Angeles and got to witness it firsthand. In fact, my entire, rambling post was probably 2,000 words and the person in the above photo distilled it down to a tiny sign.
I also specifically mentioned how good it was that people were asking how much brutality goes on in the shadows, in unidentified black sites like the one in Chicago. So, it was heartening to see multiple people holding signs like this one:
And I also always love to see this:
There are a lot of things I think of when I see the phrase KILL YOUR MASTERS. But lately, since that new Run the Jewels album dropped (which is a very, very good listen right now, and I recommend Gary Suarez’s essay about coming around on its “bludgeoning Hollywood summer blockbuster energy”), I keep thinking of my favorite RTJ tweet ever:
OK everyone that’s it. I have run out of thoughts. Stay safe and raise hell.
Dan.