The King of Staten Island

There are low-key laughs, but as a comedy it’s no gutbuster; there are a handful of nicely observed character moments, but none of the catharsis you’d expect from a drama reckoning with sacrifice and legacy.

Admittedly, the subject matter is marginally darker and more personal than the Apatow norm. But its references to depression, manic behavior, and suicidal ideation feel shallow in a film that largely follows a conventional comedy arc, albeit at snooze-button speed.

Apatow has always had a gift for casting. Tomei is expectedly charming and poignant as Scott's beleaguered mom. As Scott's more ambitious kid sister Claire, Maude Apatow, who has grown up onscreen through her father's films, is fantastically focused and fiery, challenging Davidson to rise to her level with every shared scene.

For its compelling first hour, “The King of Staten Island” is content to ramble along with Scott in a way that’s both authentic and pleasurable.

There's no doubt that King is lumpy... But it's also frequently winning, and oddly sweet, too; a drastically unhurried dramedy with room to grow

The King of Staten Island is not structurally perfect. There is a rather contrived crisis the purpose of which is to bring Claire, Scott and Ray together at last, but there is charm and gentleness in this new stepfamily.

Davidson, with his gangly limbs and cartoonishly ripe features, plays Scott with roguish charm and a fidgety vulnerability. Scott is obnoxious, but he's redeemed by his transparency — a willingness to wear his wounds close to the surface, just beneath the veneer of jackassery.

At 136 minutes, The King of Staten Island may strike some as needlessly drag-ass. But Apatow lets the movie breathe without losing its internal dynamism.

“The King of Staten Island” might lack the lightning-in-a-bottle magic that made Apatow’s first movies such instant cultural touchstones, but this sweet film crystallizes the feeling of being too scared to escape your own shadow.