The modern English name Rupert is a truncation of the Latin Rupertus, which derives from Old High German Hruodoperht (or Hruodoberht), which also happens to be the origin of the name Robert.
Meaning bright with glory, it is a name to be proud of, even if it has today taken on somewhat comical connotations, which is why - as we shall see - it was so suited to Leonard Rossiter's character, Rupert Rigsby, in the seventies TV sit-com Rising Damp; and Robert De Niro's character, Rupert Pupkin, in Scorsese's 1982 film The King of Comedy.
Before discussing the above, however, I want to say a few words about the most famous Rupert of all - no, not Rupert Birkin [1] - but Rupert Bear ...
II.
As a child, I never much cared for Rupert Bear ...
Even if I quite admired his colourful fashion sense - red jumper, bright yellow checked trousers, with a matching yellow scarf - he and his chums were just a bit too boring [2], living at home with their parents in an idyllic English village. No matter how exotic or magical their adventures, the fact was they always began and ended in Nutwood.
However, it was the irritating theme song which opened the 1970s TV series The Adventures of Rupert Bear [3], that really turned me against him: I fucking hated that song - which added an erroneous definite article to the characters name - although the record-buying public obviously didn't share my feelings, as it reached number 14 in the UK charts in 1971 [4].
Rupert, of course, started life as a comic strip character created by Mary Tourtel, who made his first appearance in the Daily Express in 1920. He soon became very popular and his since gone on to sell millions of books worldwide; the Rupert annual has been published every year since 1936.
And so, like his rival, Paddington Bear - who first appeared on the scene in 1958 (and who I'm not keen on either) - Rupert is firmly entrenched in British popular culture; in September 2020, Royal Mail even issued a set of eight stamps to commemorate his centenary.
Unfortunately, the stamps didn't make reference to the one great scandal that Rupert was involved in; the infamous Oz magazine case which resulted in the editors and publishers being prosecuted for obscenity and put on trial at the Old Bailey in June 1971 [5].
III.
Played (brilliantly) by Leonard Rossiter in Rising Damp - a British sit-com, written by Eric Chappell, which was originally broadcast on ITV from September 1974 until May 1978 - Rigsby's first name was only revealed in one of the final episodes.
In 'Great Expectations' (S4/E3), having agreed to pose as his estranged wife, Miss Jones and Rigsby dress up so as to look the part of a married couple:
Rigsby: "How d'you think I look?"
Miss Jones: "Very nice Mr Rigsby - though I can't call you that, what's your first name?"
Rigsby: "Err, we needn't go to those lengths Miss Jones."
Miss Jones: "Mr Rigsby we're supposed to be married, what did she call you?"
Rigsby: "Everything really."
Miss Jones: "No, I mean at the beginning, when she was being affectionate."
Rigsby: "Well, we never went in for endearments very much, not even at the beginning. No, she used to smile quietly at me, put her hand on mine and say: 'Now then ratbag.'"
Miss Jones: "Well I can't call you that. Now what's your name?"
Rigsby (embarrassed): "Well, it's a rather silly sort of name".
Miss Jones: "What is it?"
Rigsby (mumbling): "Rupert."
Miss Jones: "Robert?"
Rigsby: "Rupert."
Miss Jones: "Rupert!"
Rigsby: "Yes, Rupert Rigsby."
Miss Jones (hiding her face and laughing): "I'm sorry Mr Rigsby, you don't look like a Rupert."
Rigsby: "Well of course I don't look like - he's a little wooly bear with trousers and a check scarf, isn't he? That's why I stopped using it."
Miss Jones (kindly): "Well I shan't, I think it's a very nice name." [6]
As well as being a very funny (and rather touching) scene, it also reminds me of the sixth season episode of Seinfeld in which Kramer's first name - Cosmo - is finaly revealed, much to the amusement of George, Jerry and Elaine [7].
The irony, of course, is that Rigsby isn't bright with glory - as the name Rupert suggests - but seedy with failure. Nevertheless, he's a strangely likeable character; far more so than Basil Fawlty, to whom he is sometimes compared.
IV.
Rupert Pupkin, on the other hand, is a far more disturbing character; a struggling stand-up comedian with mental health
issues, desperate to get his big break.
Long story short, in The King of Comedy (1982) he kidnaps a
famous late-night talk show host, Jerry Langford (played by Jerry
Lewis), in an attempt to achieve the notoriety he confuses with stardom.
As he tells the FBI agents who arrest him: Better to be a king for a night, than a schmuck for a lifetime.
The film was admired by critics, but poorly received by the public who - at this date - preferred to see De Niro in what they understood to be more serious roles, little appreciating the amount of work he invested in the character of Rupert Pupkin.
The fact that, by the end of the film, it's impossible to tell what was real and what was fantasy, also didn't go down well with moviegoers who, as a rule, like to know what's happening and not have to figure things out for themselves.
Further, Rupert Pupkin is a troubling figure because he obliges us as film fans to examine our own behaviour and complicity with celebrity culture. Travis Bickle might shock us - and Max Cady [8] might terrify us - but Rupert Pupkin is the one who unsettles us most.
Perhaps that's why Scorsese has called De Niro's role as Rupert Pupkin his favourite of all their collaborations ... [9]
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