yes, his (character’s) ex-wife is black. yes, the (tv) daughters are white. he’s also a red-headed mexican. louie is an exercise in succumbing to a vision. many people fight it because his chosen format has traditionally been used to sell the most soap; innovation in sitcoms tends to be noticed too little, too late. and i’m big on following things to its logical conclusion, so flights of fancy can be tough. but i made a decision early in louie’s first season to let him lead me to wherever he wanted to go. it has ended up in some deep emotional places. i’m looking forward to following him again for a few weeks.
I forgot this show was back and getting to watch it was a sweet treat.
My favorite moment in a Louie episode was when his gay Latino neighbor calmly talked him down from being a complete fucking weirdo when his pregnant sister was having what turned out to not be a medical emergency. Screams were coming from one place, Louie keeps looking at the elevator, back to his neighbors, who are offering their help, to the hall where his daughters were sleeping, his face growing progressively more panicked, his barely spoken to neighbor’s voices becoming just another element of terror and he can’t bring himself to make a decision. He flounders awkwardly, unsure about how to handle the interaction. The man, played by the wonderful Yul Vazquez, manages to make him focus for a second and says “Brother, do not let your sister die from pain or lose her baby because you are awkward with strangers”.
Of course, this line is beautiful, brutal and oh so true. It’s also beyond belief, no neighbor would be this cruel-to-be-kind astute but you accept it because in addition to being elegant, it brings Louie back down to earth and moves things forward. Also, and this was important to me, it was not a magical person of color moment. It was meaningful without the ick.
I had a dream a couple of nights ago that my mom had started working for Louis C.K. I asked her how it was going and as she told me I saw the scene play out movie-style, with my mom and C.K. going through a shopping list in a nice but not over the top kitchen. His eyes kept darting up nervously as he spoke to her, trying to communicate in some seriously come-and-go Spanish. My mom usually tells people to stick to English when they’re struggling but this time she felt it was important to let him try and get it out. There was meaning in the attempt.
I don’t think he’s ever had a housekeeper, she told me. I’m sure he has. Was he nice? Si, fue muy simpatico. That’s when I woke up.