Some Great Moments in Louis CK's "2017"--
-Louie expresses frustration when recalling a transgender friend. "I read her journal, and I just found myself sobbing. And then I grew jealous. I grew jealous because this person woke up and noted, I'm aware of precisely the thing that is wrong with me, and then she corrected that thing. But I don't have a name for the thing wrong with me. It's just this shapeless cloud of depression. I will not wake up one day and think, Oh! I'm actually an owl! That's what I need to do to be happy! I need to blink slowly and eat some mice!" (I have often envied transgender artists for the drama of the story they get to tell--and I'm certain that that's an unfair and un-PC thing to admit. And nevertheless it is true. I sat in an audience in front of Jennifer Finney Boylan and heard her dramatic story of "throwing myself toward the edge of a windy cliff and just letting the wind decide what to do with me"--and mainly, I thought, that sneaky capitalist knew, on some level, that she had a world-class story bubbling, and she has made MOUNDS OF CASH with that story. I imagine I was not the only writer in that audience having those thoughts. And God Bless JF Boylan for making use of that story--on I AM CAIT, among other places--as any sane writer would have done. I just wish Boylan--who, the day I saw her, seemed to be phoning things in--might have said, to her audience, "This story is now my bread and butter, and I want to be clear about that." Well, maybe I'm not making any sense here. Maybe I'm simply, unjustly resentful toward someone who knew what she wanted and went after it. Resentful and deeply envious. Such is life!)
-Louie says, "Love is like a balloon--and then the air floods out. That's just what it does. Every time. It's the definition of balloon-ness. It's in the nature of the balloon." This deeply cynical, defamiliarizing move recalls other times when Louie has asked us to discard sentiment and view life as an alien. A next-door neighbor begins a weird power game about his noise level; Louie, like an alien, chooses not to play the game but to *comment* on the game: "You are going to be an asshole if you want to be. Goodbye!" Louie tells a story of once having been on an airplane with a particularly pushy mother; the mother said, "*I* am going to take your seat because *I* have a baby." Like an alien, Louie did not engage; he considered that he didn't really want to attend the meeting he was flying to, and so he simply stood and left the plane. "Abortion is either taking a shit or killing a baby. It's one of those two things. It's nothing in-between." Or, at a parent meeting: "The kids are listless in the afternoon? Maybe it's not because of their diet, or their amount of outdoor playtime? Maybe it's because--you know--school sucks? Remember? School sucks?"
-Louie has a genius for pinpointing absurdities within communication. In his sitcom, frequently, dialogues are punctured by long, painful silences, in which the two estranged characters search each other with their eyes. In an early episode, a crazy lady appears in an apartment doorway, and she says, "Whatever you do, do NOT come near. I am NOT wearing any clothing." Louie rolls his eyes. "Look away, sir. Stand back. For I am NOT wearing any clothing." Louie: "Look, you're gonna show me your boobs; that's where this is headed; why not get it over with." Old Lady, gasping: "Sir! You offend my honor!!" Long, painful silence, with uncomfortable staring. And the lady flashes her boobs. Or the great Gaby Hoffmann exchange: "Wait, is this a breakup? Go ahead and do it. Say the words. Can you not just say the words? All right, I will be the mother here. I think things aren't working, and we should just part ways--" In "2017," Louie again mines gold from the idea of communication. I especially love the email bit. You become incensed and eager to prove all your trivial, ego-driven points. You craft an email like a Hilary Mantel novel; you have it proofed by several members of your staff. You send it out into the world, and you interpret your interlocutor's silence to be proof that she is floored by the potency of your observations. She is thinking, OH MY GOD, I WAS WRONG ABOUT ALL THE THINGS! Then you go back to reread your email, just out of self-admiration, as an act of "scratching your ass and then sniffing your fingers." And you notice, at the top of the email: "LATEST DRAFT--IS THIS OK?" (How can you not do a little cheer when you reach this punchline with Louie? Like Junot Diaz, Louie has a gift for "seeing" me and making me feel less alone. I really think that's the greatest thing anyone can offer to anyone else.) Anyway, the communication bit climaxes in a wonderful observation about twelve-year-olds. "How did they learn this Elizabethan parlor game that they use for dating? Would your fair maiden consent to an evening with my gentleman friend, were he to make his desires known? That is well." The gentleman friend speaks up: "And may I finger her? Finger her I shall." This bit includes the line--"You ARE bold, Sir"--spoken in a British accent, and it's a delight to envision twelve-year-olds, hunched over lunch boxes, speaking these words. Louie has always taken some of his greatest mileage from kids--imagining a father/child dialogue about Lady Gaga, recalling a little girl's joke about an ape at the ballet--and it's nice to see him returning to this material. I'd argue that the problem of raising daughters is *the central concern* of the sitcom "Louie," and that the other stuff, the dates, the depressed comedians, is just icing on the cake. A father takes his little daughter to see an octogenarian aunt who refers to certain cookies as "n***er toes." What do you do with that? You make comedy gold. I really hope Louis CK will return to his sitcom sometime soon.
-Louie expresses frustration when recalling a transgender friend. "I read her journal, and I just found myself sobbing. And then I grew jealous. I grew jealous because this person woke up and noted, I'm aware of precisely the thing that is wrong with me, and then she corrected that thing. But I don't have a name for the thing wrong with me. It's just this shapeless cloud of depression. I will not wake up one day and think, Oh! I'm actually an owl! That's what I need to do to be happy! I need to blink slowly and eat some mice!" (I have often envied transgender artists for the drama of the story they get to tell--and I'm certain that that's an unfair and un-PC thing to admit. And nevertheless it is true. I sat in an audience in front of Jennifer Finney Boylan and heard her dramatic story of "throwing myself toward the edge of a windy cliff and just letting the wind decide what to do with me"--and mainly, I thought, that sneaky capitalist knew, on some level, that she had a world-class story bubbling, and she has made MOUNDS OF CASH with that story. I imagine I was not the only writer in that audience having those thoughts. And God Bless JF Boylan for making use of that story--on I AM CAIT, among other places--as any sane writer would have done. I just wish Boylan--who, the day I saw her, seemed to be phoning things in--might have said, to her audience, "This story is now my bread and butter, and I want to be clear about that." Well, maybe I'm not making any sense here. Maybe I'm simply, unjustly resentful toward someone who knew what she wanted and went after it. Resentful and deeply envious. Such is life!)
-Louie says, "Love is like a balloon--and then the air floods out. That's just what it does. Every time. It's the definition of balloon-ness. It's in the nature of the balloon." This deeply cynical, defamiliarizing move recalls other times when Louie has asked us to discard sentiment and view life as an alien. A next-door neighbor begins a weird power game about his noise level; Louie, like an alien, chooses not to play the game but to *comment* on the game: "You are going to be an asshole if you want to be. Goodbye!" Louie tells a story of once having been on an airplane with a particularly pushy mother; the mother said, "*I* am going to take your seat because *I* have a baby." Like an alien, Louie did not engage; he considered that he didn't really want to attend the meeting he was flying to, and so he simply stood and left the plane. "Abortion is either taking a shit or killing a baby. It's one of those two things. It's nothing in-between." Or, at a parent meeting: "The kids are listless in the afternoon? Maybe it's not because of their diet, or their amount of outdoor playtime? Maybe it's because--you know--school sucks? Remember? School sucks?"
-Louie has a genius for pinpointing absurdities within communication. In his sitcom, frequently, dialogues are punctured by long, painful silences, in which the two estranged characters search each other with their eyes. In an early episode, a crazy lady appears in an apartment doorway, and she says, "Whatever you do, do NOT come near. I am NOT wearing any clothing." Louie rolls his eyes. "Look away, sir. Stand back. For I am NOT wearing any clothing." Louie: "Look, you're gonna show me your boobs; that's where this is headed; why not get it over with." Old Lady, gasping: "Sir! You offend my honor!!" Long, painful silence, with uncomfortable staring. And the lady flashes her boobs. Or the great Gaby Hoffmann exchange: "Wait, is this a breakup? Go ahead and do it. Say the words. Can you not just say the words? All right, I will be the mother here. I think things aren't working, and we should just part ways--" In "2017," Louie again mines gold from the idea of communication. I especially love the email bit. You become incensed and eager to prove all your trivial, ego-driven points. You craft an email like a Hilary Mantel novel; you have it proofed by several members of your staff. You send it out into the world, and you interpret your interlocutor's silence to be proof that she is floored by the potency of your observations. She is thinking, OH MY GOD, I WAS WRONG ABOUT ALL THE THINGS! Then you go back to reread your email, just out of self-admiration, as an act of "scratching your ass and then sniffing your fingers." And you notice, at the top of the email: "LATEST DRAFT--IS THIS OK?" (How can you not do a little cheer when you reach this punchline with Louie? Like Junot Diaz, Louie has a gift for "seeing" me and making me feel less alone. I really think that's the greatest thing anyone can offer to anyone else.) Anyway, the communication bit climaxes in a wonderful observation about twelve-year-olds. "How did they learn this Elizabethan parlor game that they use for dating? Would your fair maiden consent to an evening with my gentleman friend, were he to make his desires known? That is well." The gentleman friend speaks up: "And may I finger her? Finger her I shall." This bit includes the line--"You ARE bold, Sir"--spoken in a British accent, and it's a delight to envision twelve-year-olds, hunched over lunch boxes, speaking these words. Louie has always taken some of his greatest mileage from kids--imagining a father/child dialogue about Lady Gaga, recalling a little girl's joke about an ape at the ballet--and it's nice to see him returning to this material. I'd argue that the problem of raising daughters is *the central concern* of the sitcom "Louie," and that the other stuff, the dates, the depressed comedians, is just icing on the cake. A father takes his little daughter to see an octogenarian aunt who refers to certain cookies as "n***er toes." What do you do with that? You make comedy gold. I really hope Louis CK will return to his sitcom sometime soon.
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