I lost Grey’s Anatomy and cried out loud about it in one of my previous posts. But it’s ok. I’m in love again. I found Louie.
This show is not comparable to almost anything I have seen before.
First of all, the actor, writer, director, editor and so on is one and the same guy, a well-known comedian Louis C.K. As a person who can barely pull out one simple task I get enormously impressed with those who can be so versatile and productive, and do it successfully and with a lot of talent. I am in awe and green with envy.
The series is about a stand-up comedian who lives in New York and who is Louis C.K.’s alter ego, probably a bit simplified version of his own personality. It’s not a comedy. It is very funny sometimes, but you always feel this vibe of compassion the author takes on his character. And it is not a pure drama, because even in the toughest moments the character goes through you want to laugh at him, so stupid and unreasonable he is. It’s just like… life. Life shown through the eyes of one person.
It is strange to say maybe, but watching Louie I think of Anton Chekov’s short stories. They are not close in subject, of course, or in time or in place or in anything at all. They cannot be; Chekhov died more than a hundred years ago and never stepped on New York streets. But there is something common in the intonation with which the stories of both writers are told. Helplessly witnessing someone screw his own life, pitying him and even having an ounce of hope for a miracle that might, still might happen one day make these episodes dear and somewhat familiar to me, and they top the list of my TV priorities.
My only sorrow is that Louie’s seasons are short, about 13 episodes a year, which such a movie glutton like me can swallow in one gulp. So, again, I am hungry for something new.