Expression through humour is as old as film. Parts of the earliest and best pieces of film history come from those monumental physical timings, pratfalls and daring stunts. Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton are the obvious double bill, the individual presence that adorns the surface of what became an integral part of film. The King of Laughter takes itself to the stage though but gives its leading man the same status as that pairing. Eduardo Scarpetta’s life and legal struggle are brought to the big screen in an unexpected biography of one of many untold comedic tragedies. That back and forth is as inevitable as it is cliché, but it is also moulded by the honesty and truth that pours from this Mario Martone-directed feature.
Comedy as adaptation can give texts and influences new life or light, inspired and different meanings that would have been lost to the work in its original form. The King of Laughter shares well-intentioned humour from the lost art of Scarpetta (Tony Servillo), whose work here continues the good form he enjoyed on The Hand of God. Very different roles, but at the core is the passion needed to engage and charm an audience. Wistful stares from the impressionable many that look on with great adulation are the key to The King of Laughter and its brutal punches of lawsuits and longevity. Servillo is extraordinary here and under the eye of Martone, the pair successfully engage the long-winded argument of artistic theft and appreciation. Where the line is drawn is, apparently, not down to the artist who means well but the formation of laws, suits and offence.
Where The King of Laughter may be a triumph in its championing of artists who meant well by work unappreciated by original authors, it struggles to mount its freedom of speech context. Of course, it needs a way into the modern discourse, but The King of Laughter has a strong and biting core to it that not only understands the man who was hounded for his humour but in displaying the history and hard work that got him to that period on the stage. Martone presents a rich tapestry, visual beauty and well-paced reflections of Scarpetta’s work on stage. Influential, unheard outside Italy, but brought to the big screen in all its difficulties and strokes of genius. The King of Laughter finds an incredible balance in its presentation not just of Naples and the role of a thespian, but the early embers of what would become the full-time film star comic.
Servillo makes the insurmountable look easy with his leading role here. The King of Laughter lives and dies on his work, which gives great beauty to tragedy and underscores its comedy with defiance and misfortune. Each comes into play as the muses of Melpomene and Thalia are observed, relating the harsh times that hide behind humour. The world is changing, as Scarpetta notes early in this feature. That it does, and it takes no prisoners, leaves no room for life or hope. The King of Laughter showcases a coup against that titular power, with artistic interpretation mistaken for an attempt at causing filth and outrage. All the greats are persecuted for their plagiarism, but they find themselves lauded by those who matter most at a time when they cannot enjoy the success they receive too late.
