'The King of Comedy' is so ahead of its time it's scary

Martin Scorsese has always had mixed feelings about his 1983 satire of celebrity, The King of Comedy, but I don't -- it's a bonafide masterpiece.

It was a flop when it came out and was not exactly beloved by critics but it has only grown in stature in the 30 years since its release, in part because it predicted the "reality" celebrity culture which has come to dominate the television and tabloid media.

The movie is at turns uproariously funny and painfully uncomfortable to watch.

It's about Rupert Pupkin -- an incredibly unlikable and obnoxious wannabe comedian with no discernible talent but plenty of hubris.

The Pupkin role provides Robert De Niro with one of his all-time greatest roles, which he plays with a relentlessness that is incredible to behold. He makes no attempts to make Pupkin sympathetic or to justify his megalomania, he simply is a product of the irrational segment of society which seems to think they are entitled to fame because they have endured lives that are so unspectacular.

Pupkin (and his bizarre friend played by a fantastic Sandra Bernhard) are obsessed with a Johnny Carson-type late night comedy host named Jerry Langford (played by a deadly serious Jerry Lewis). After trying repeatedly (and failing) to get Langford to give him a shot at performing on his show, Pupkin concocts a devious scheme to force his way on -- which involves kidnapping the host.

Robert De Niro in The King of Comedy

This is all played out both for laughs and cringeworthy horror -- and it somehow works, I think because of the tone Scorsese uses. When Pupkin imagines himself having intimate lunches and conversations with Langford -- the scenes appear to really be happening (without the standard 'daydream' scene trickery) -- because, of course, they appear totally real in Pupkin's mind.

De Niro's madness in this film is of a different brand then the suppressed rage he showed in Taxi Driver or the flamboyant vengefulness of Cape Fear. Here, he is essentially a deeply delusional nerd, who seems harmless if albeit hopelessly annoying.

He's the kind of person who fantasizes about his high school principal apologizing to him on behalf of his schoolmates for under-estimating him. And when he's encouraged to work on his craft and actually earn a spot on the Langford show he balks.

Still there is something insidious about Rupert Pupkin. His act -- once you finally see it -- is horrible, and yet the audience eats it up. And today, while many of us look at reality television and think it's the lowest form of entertainment out there -- an enormous audience consumes it gleefully every day.

Towards the end of the film, Pupkin says "better to be king for a night than schmuck for a lifetime." The truth is he really believes it -- and so do so many Americans. Whether it be through a sex tape or competitive eating, there are these people out there who would rather be famous for a moment, regardless of why, than be a regular person.

The King of Comedy nails this tragic reality -- and while it may have seemed over-the-top at the time of its release -- it now seems uniquely rewarding and prescient.

Fame for the sake of fame has never been so popular.