C.K.’s self-effacing, self-reflection as comedy also has some self-reflexive moments. There are various jokes that may be responses to some of the comic’s more cerebral, experimental, atypical approaches to humor. His complaining to a therapist causes that doctor to fall asleep in the middle of the session. Pamela is not at all engaged in a subtitled, black-and-white drama that Louie is absorbed in. Walking with old acquaintance Lenny (an Emmy-worthy Michael Rapaport), Louie is astonished to find that his belligerent pal loves that Louie is a comedian but doesn’t quite get his jokes.
In one of the more painful vignettes, Louie has to MC an open mic night and is embarrassed for a young, pimply comic wannabe, Bart (Nate Fernald), whose act consists mainly of reciting dark memories from childhood (wetting the bed, parental abuse, etc.) Bart tells Louie that his approach to humor is “to tell the truth.” C.K. has always been a sad clown, introspective and insightful instead of brash and broad. The Bart character may be C.K.’s realization of how some people see his sitcom, filled with difficult subjects and too little levity.
However, even as the characters can become harsh and scathing – in one episode, Louie tries to fend off an aggressive younger woman and gets in a fight – we see some of the protagonist’s generosity and kindness. Whether he is trying to sympathize with a very pregnant woman (played by Celia Keenan-Bolger) or talking to Pam about his feelings for her, Louie (the character, as well as the show) has its moments of poignancy that don’t feel forced. It’s a marvelous balancing act that few comedy writers and directors could pull off with such gentle aplomb.
In one of the season’s sharpest scenes, Louie snipes with the 24-year-old owner of a Manhattan kitchenware store. He is annoyed by her lack of help, while she posits how little she cares for someone not in her usual clientele. “We’re the future and you don’t belong in it,” she tells him. “You have this deep down feeling that you don’t matter any more.” Ironically, despite his lack of youth, C.K. has proven himself to be the future of televised comedy. You can see the aesthetic and comic variety of his series emulated in Broad City, which targets the generation of the Manhattan store owner and is probably the only show good enough to compete with Louie for the title of best comedy on television.
In season five, Louie returns to the relaxed rhythms and unpredictable plotting of its earlier episodes, which often featured two or three vignettes per half-hour. Between the natural lighting in street-set scenes and the mandolin playing that accompanies one of the early episodes, the sitcom still has the look and feel of a John Cassavetes film. (Some of the dream imagery from season four is still present, although used with more restraint.) Season four will always be an outstanding outlier, although that is not to put down this abridged fifth season, which is still funnier and more refreshing than any other comedy on the small screen. The protagonist may not be curious about alien life out there, but it is hard not to be fascinated by Louie’s alienation.
