During last weekend’s broadcast of
Saturday Night Live, some viewers received an unpleasant surprise as the words “LOUIS C.K. IS BACK” appeared in giant font across their screens. It was both an ad for his latest stand-up special,
Sorry, and an odd declaration considering that the disgraced comedian has hardly vanished from public view since admitting to a string of sexual misconduct allegations made against him in 2017. Not to mention that this sort of announcement set to upbeat music implies the return of someone or something good, like ABBA or
The Matrix. To make things creepier, the promo
ran right before a re-airing of the famous Lonely Island and Justin Timberlake sketch, “Dick In A Box.”
Despite some of the disgust this ad garnered on social media, there isn’t a better time for C.K. to reassert himself into people’s homes. Since
The New York Times reported on his predatory behavior toward up-and-coming female comics, most notably masturbating in front of them, the comedian’s #MeToo backlash has mostly manifested in a loss of television gigs while
still being embraced at comedy venues and festivals like the legendary Comedy Cellar, Skankfest and
Madison Square Garden’s Hulu Theater, where his new special was taped in August, and using those profits to distribute exclusive content on his website, which earns him more money. Last month, he also received a Grammy nomination for Best Comedy Album for a recording of his 2020 standup special at Warner Theater,
Sincerely, Louis C.K., proving, much like
his industry comrade and fellow transphobe Dave Chappelle, there isn’t a better time to be “canceled.”
Likewise, C.K.’s latest project relishes in the myth of “cancellation” that has become one of the most widely and incorrectly appropriated terms in the public lexicon in the Trump age.
Sorry, currently available on his website, carries an overt smugness and unapologetic-ness throughout its hour-long runtime, from the ironic use of a giant “SORRY” marquee sign in the background to a 15-minute opening bit on pedophilia to a closing rant on the feminization of straight men, in which he says the F-word several times with gleeful abandon. Like most of C.K.’s goading comedy, he attempts to humorlessly rationalize and empathize with the most repulsive behavior, like suggesting pedophiles have access to child sex dolls to prevent them from abusing actual children, and balks at reasonable human tendencies, like our collective shock over the massive amount of COVID-19 death
This special is a noticeably less bitter and resentful performance than the mean-spirited soundbites from his comedy shows over the past two years, including
hackneyed digs at Asian men, non-binary people and Parkland shooting survivors. At his most acute, C.K. still manages to underscore the ridiculousness of our collective flaws as a species in a casually hilarious way that unfortunately made me chuckle a few times, including when he lampoons our apathy toward isolated tragedies that’s recently been upended by a global pandemic or society’s cruel treatment of fat people. However, like most straight, male comics who think queer people have too many rights, he has to pit fat people against trans people, suggesting we’re kinder to the latter group (as if those two groups can’t overlap). Additionally, he can never seem to flip this critical lens onto himself, only mentioning his past transgressions for a moment of pity by comparing his short-lived exile to being in quarantine.
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