Do you remember 1982? Not likely. In those days of mammoth races and rock-throwing contests, we hadn't even invented memories yet, let alone the film to record them on.

Our only "celebrity" was that guy who once ate a whole tree. Given this far-away age, it's no wonder that 1982's The King of Comedy gets so much credit for predicting our increasing fascination with the famous.

Robert De Niro is obsessed with celebrities. He wants to be a comedian himself, and may have a shot at it after arranging a meeting with talk show host Jerry Lewis. But De Niro won't take no for an answer -- and he'll do anything to catch his break.

In other words, De Niro is a crazy stalker, a 34-year-old who still lives with his mom and runs a fake talk show, Kramer-style, in his basement, which as career moves go is second only to shooting a president. But he's a sort of functionally insane person.

So right, The King of Comedy is a dark satire of celebrity obsession. More and more, I'm starting to think the definition of "satire" should be changed to "you will only laugh on the inside."

Which isn't to say I don't like it. Rather, The King of Comedy , as good as it is, isn't likely to send you to the ER for critical gut-stitches.

Instead, it's about the drive for fame, to have it and be near it, to be known and loved by all.

Directed by Martin Scorsese, it's hard not to draw comparisons to Taxi Driver, another movie with De Niro as a highly troubled man whose warped desires can only wind up fulfilled through violence.

And as with Taxi Driver, the outcome of that violence isn't quite what you'd suspect. In The King of Comedy , however, De Niro's fantasies run so deep it may be impossible to know what's real and what's a dream.

* Contact Ed Robertson at edwrobertson@gmail.com. His fiction is available on Kindle, Nook, and through Smashwords.