Review: ‘Bupkis’ is not nothing. Pete Davidson stars in this deft comedy series based on his life

Almost everything I know about Pete Davidson I learned from social media, which is, as it happens, one of the themes of “Bupkis,” a deft, oddly lovely, eight-episode semi-autobiographical comedy premiering Thursday on Peacock.

The Internet has taught me that Davidson has had trouble maintaining relationships, which is perhaps what happens when all your dates become news — even your running into an old girlfriend at the Met Gala — and that he has a history with drugs and has thought of ending his life. And that he’s doing better nowadays. But I couldn’t have told you whether or not I thought he was funny.

I know, of course, that Davidson got famous on “Saturday Night Live,” in the years when I wasn’t watching it regularly, or at all. He was scheduled to host the program this Saturday, timed to the premiere of “Bupkis” — which also has Lorne Michaels as a producer — but the writers strike put a blue pencil through it.

There are a few things about “Bupkis” to like right off the bat. The title, to start — a Yiddish word meaning “beans,” more broadly translated as nonsense or nothing, because anything that keeps that language alive is a mitzvah. And then there is its great main cast, which along with Davidson (who co-created the series with Judah Miller and Dave Sirus) features Edie Falco and Joe Pesci, making for an admirable demographic spread. And indeed, they play three generations of Davidson’s family, with Falco as his mother, Amy, and Pesci as his stoically ailing grandfather, Joe Larocca or Poppy. Falco is typically wonderful in a role that mixes a lot of warmth with a little wackiness, but it’s especially gratifying to see Pesci in a part that offers him some delicacy and depth without the slightest whiff of criminality — although he does lean on that old F-word.

Altered elements of Davidson’s life are the basis of Judd Apatow’s 2020 film “The King of Staten Island,” but here he straight-out plays himself, Pete Davidson, famous comedian, son of a firefighter who died on 9/11, sharing a house with his mother (who can say here, “Marisa Tomei played me in the movie”), getting high with his hangers-on, concerned for his grandfather and making unsuccessful stabs at something like maturity.

“I’m a ridiculous joke,” Pete tells Poppy. “I’ve got to change the way people see me.”

“You run around like a kid,” says Poppy, “and you’re not a kid anymore … Try to make somebody else happy once in a while.”

There’s an arc to the series, which can seem a little like “Atlanta” translated to Staten Island (with trips to Miami and Quebec), with standalone episodes that vary in style and tone and occasionally abandon reality altogether — one turns into a “Fast and Furious” pastiche — as they build collectively toward a crisis point. (I also detect a smidgen of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” in certain scenes.) I’m not sure whether you’re meant to be more entertained or exasperated by the drug-colored high jinks of Davidson and his crew. I suppose how you react to these scenes might have something to do with whether you’re a person who’s lived that life or a person who has had to put up with people living it, or how much you liked “Entourage” — but the series makes a case for growth without becoming too obviously a cautionary tale.

If Pete is self-obsessed, Davidson has not made “Bupkis” all about himself; much of the time, he plays straight man to a stellar cast of regulars, recurring players and guest stars. Prominently featured are Bobby Cannavale as Pete’s disillusioned Uncle Tommy, still pointing out that he was once voted Staten Island’s sexiest man (“They can’t take that way from me — I mean, literally they can’t, I’ve got the trophy still in the garage.”) and Brad Garrett (having a year, with the upcoming “High Desert” on Apple TV+) as his amiable honorary “uncle” Roy. Oona Roche, Chase Sui Wonder and Philip Ettinger make an impression as Pete’s sister, quasi-romantic interest and put-upon assistant, respectively.

Guest stars playing themselves or others include Ray Romano, Kenan Thompson, Sebastian Stan, Paul Walter Hauser, Colson “Machine Gun Kelly” Baker, Simon Rex, J.J. Abrams and Al Gore. Scenes with Jon Stewart, at an environmental fundraiser (Stewart: “I think Gore’s drunk — I can’t tell if it’s a Southern thing or he’s just hammered.”), and John Mulaney, in an extended conversation about addiction, have an unscripted flavor. A beautifully executed episode flashing back to a family wedding in the immediate wake of Pete’s father’s death brings in Steve Buscemi as an intense priest, Jane Curtin as Pete’s grandmother and a graceful, able Preston James Broderick as Davidson’s 7-year-old self.

Show business has a long tradition of taking show business apart (a bit of “Sullivan’s Travels” in the background nods to it), but entitled fame can be a tricky subject when the entitled famous take it on themselves. Still, there’s nothing like lived experience considered at a distance, and scenes of group misbehavior, on-location isolation and intoxicated rehab feel true. At the same time, “Bupkis” does a fine job of reminding us that celebrities are only human, with mothers who love them, sisters who find them trying and grandparents who teach them how to really dance — people who call you by your proper name and are literally acquainted with your dirty laundry. It’s a family comedy at heart.

The humor ranges from low to high, broad to subtle, naturalistic to surreal, and at times the series veers off into a bit that seems to exist only because of an overly exuberant moment in the writers room. But taken all in all, “Bupkis” is not nonsense, not nothing.