A flop on initial release, but since regarded as a classic, this is a deceptively hilarious, broadly comic look at celebrity stalking.

And, in these times of X Factor, Pop Idol and Fame Academy, a remarkably prescient look at the obsession with quick-fix fame.

De Niro is the wonderfully named Rupert Pupkin, an extrovert salesman-cum-mediocre-stand-up-comic who lives in a semi-fantasy world of celebrity friends, particularly talk show host Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis).

After several botched attempts to get onto Langford's show, Pupkin and an equally unhinged fan (Sandra Bernhard) kidnap Langford, and ransom him for a spot on the talk show.

On first appearance, The King of Comedy seemed like a departure for Scorsese and De Niro, whose previous collaborations were intense and violent movies such as Taxi Driver, Raging Bull and even New York, New York.

But, although Pupkin is a PG version of Travis Bickle and Jake La Motta, he is just as mad-as-a-bag-of-cats crazy.

His delusional daydreams of being Jerry Langford's best friend blur unnervingly with reality, and a scene when Pupkin interviews cardboard cut-outs of Langford and Liza Minnelli is genuinely eerie.

The film is also a forerunner to "humiliation comedies" such as The Office and Curb Your Enthusiasm; when Pupkin's delusions involve unsuspecting people, particularly when he crashes Langford's weekend home to impress a girlfriend, laughs and wince-inducing embarrassment mix in equal measure.

De Niro enjoyably chews the scenery in a flamboyant turn, and this is the only time you'll see him match the terrifying Sandra (one of Madonna's many ex's) Bernhard in the overacting stakes.

His scenes with Lewis, who was a revelation in this straight role, are electrifying stand-offs that apparently matched the off-screen mood as Lewis couldn't stand De Niro's method approach.

Like many other Scorsese movies, its popularity has grown with time, but it remains as brilliant today as when it was misunderstood back in 1982.

Rob Daniel