Louie: The Big Game

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Even after an episode I found less than satisfying, I should always count on Louis C.K. to make a 180 and create another episode of his seminal television program, Louie, that immediately pulls me in.  I identified with Thursday's episode "Late Show (Part 1)" more than any other episode this season.  It resonates, not only because of the stylistic choices but the personal story it tells.  By dwelling on the specifics germane to Louie, C.K. creates a universal story of resignation, trepidation and temptation.

The episode forgoes the traditional "Brother Louie" opening yet again for a long sustained shot of the Hollywood Improv.  A soulful guitar underscores a wide shot of a small crowd of people milling outside the legendary comedy club.  After the credits, we cut to a comedy set that Louie's doing inside.  I love this opening shot; it highlights the importance of the venue to Louie as a part of not only his history but the history of comedy in Los Angeles.  All of the greats played here including Jay Leno and David Letterman, both of whom come to play a much larger role later in the episode.  C.K. even gives a walk on bit to legendary creator of The Improv, Budd Friedman.  This specific place has weight to C.K. and to Louis.

He's at The Improv trying out a set that he plans on doing in a Tonight Show segment later that week.  His warranted fear is that he is going to get bumped from the Tonight Show, because Tom Cruise is going to go long and eat away his four and half minutes.  When he shows up at the studio later that week, he finds that he hasn't been bumped, and instead he's going to take Cruise's spot as the main guest.  Could things finally be turning around for serendipity's whipping boy?

Apparently so, as he kills in his extended segment.  It is so impressive that CBS requests his immediate presence in a closed door meeting with the unnamed chairman of the Columbia Broadcasting System that requires confidentiality agreements.  There's some great bits scattered through this section, especially surrounding the CBS big wig's name and a howler of a stinger as Louie is on the phone in his hotel room.  Garry Marshall plays the executive role in a surprisingly restrained performance that at first blush seems ordinary, but is quite impressive as he lays out the reasoning for calling Louie into the network.

The executive, whose perfect name we find out in the final credits is Lars Tardigan, wants to know if Louie is interested in David Letterman's job, as Letterman will be retiring at the end of the year.  Lars Tardigan isn't offering Louie the job, he's just checking to see if the 44 year old would want it.  He has two motives:  1) to use Louie's interest as a leveraging tool against the network's first choice, Jerry Seinfeld, and 2) to possibly save the company 12 million dollars by taking a chance on a talented unknown.  Lars Tardigan's logic is brilliantly slimy and Marshall's careful playing makes it all the more monstrously delicious.

But as in all good Louie episodes this season, it's all a set up to reflect on the dark inner workings of our titular character.  In a shockingly honest, pointed and damning three minute monologue, Lars Tardigan defines Louie as he has always known himself to be, but was afraid to voice aloud.  He says:

You're a working class stand up from Boston.  You do stand up.  You make maybe $80,000 a year on club dates, but you're on the back nine of your career.  Except for once in a while a special on cable, I think.  Five years ago you probably peaked and now you're waiting around wondering if something's going to happen before it gets embarrassing.  Am I right?  ...You don't think you could do it.  You think it's over and you're afraid to try.

This is it.  This is the kernel of the mid-life crisis.  Suddenly you're 40 years old and you realize that what you have done so far hasn't amounted to half of what you once thought yourself capable.  You have developed a routine defined by what is necessary and tempered it with liberal doses of inertia.  Suddenly you don't have a sports jacket and you sleep in until 11:00 and you're pissed that you won't have time to masturbate.  More importantly, you're too afraid to risk everything that is safe and known to try something that could change your life.

Lars Tardigan then offers the temptation.  He wants Louie to go back to New York and work with one of his guys.  Louie is to lose 40 pounds and do a couple of test shows.  If they're good, Lars Tardigan will put them on the air, if they're not, "no harm no foul."  If he goes on the air and is a hit, Lars Tardigan will be lauded with praise and his reputation and legacy will be secure.  The downside, however, is all Louie's:  "If America hates you [Louie]...you'll take the heat on all that.  You're gonna crack your head on the ceiling and go down.  Probably for good."

I really toyed with looking at just this one speech and breaking it down line by line and shot by shot, because it is a masterwork of blocking, lighting, composition and diction.  It's thrilling, and the best possible capstone to this episode.  This episode is the first part of a three part series of episodes, and it is a structurally perfect first act.  It introduces the characters and the conflict, and it has enough of a hook to draw you back to see the exploration of the conflict in the second act.   What I love most about this sequence, though, is it's the perfect encapsulation of Louie is:  a frank, realistic look at a man and a world that has equal parts cynicism and hope.  Lars Tardigan ends his pitch and the episode with:

We're talking about the Big Game here so forgive me if I use big terms.  In about 10 years you're going to be teaching comedy in a community college to support your kids and falling asleep to The Late Show with Jerry Seinfeld.  You're circling failure in a rapidly decaying orbit.  That's the reality as we talk now.  But you can change that.  It's in your power to change that.  Yes, you'll have to work hard.  You'll have to do things you haven't done before and still your chances are very slim.  But you could change it.

How damning and inspiring.  Now the onus is on Louie:  what he chooses here defines him.  I, like Louie's baby-faced, mouth-breathing agent Doug, anxiously await his decision and the aftermath.