Review: Louie: "Barney/Never"

In the two and change seasons of Louie so far, Louis CK has brought a sparse FX audience into his majestic, bizarre world of New York. He’s used a miniscule budget to explore his fictionalized comedic life, replete with twisted characters, fellow cynical comics and an awful lot of loneliness. That final thematic thrust has been either pushed to the forefront or idled by in every episode, but it’s always been present. I often reflect back on his season one confession, which I consider the defining line of the series (if a vignette-laced series can have a defining line). He tells his one-sided love interest, Pamela, his worst fear: “Sometimes, I imagine that when my daughter turns 18, and my parenting job is done. … Sometimes, I think when that day comes, I’ll just kill myself.” Played for laughs, as CK is often so brash and prone to embellishment, the line rings far too true for many who hold on to that one thing that keeps them sane, that keeps them company. And they’re deathly afraid to lose it.

Tonight’s episode, “Barney/Never,” advances that theme, although without as much substance as earlier Louie episodes have demonstrated. The action begins with a gorgeous black-and-white scene of Louis ambling along a narrow path lined by tombstones. He stops at a large hole, clearly just dug, and is a foot away from metaphorical death. So, too, is Robin Williams, on the opposite end of the grave, and who apparently FX has on retainer after his memorable stint on Wilfred.

The two not-so-sadly mourn the death of Barney, the owner of a comedy club the two have performed in. By all accounts, the man was an asshole. And yet, Louis and Robin find themselves reminiscing over the money-stealing owner like he was that grandpa who was kind of racist, but you still feel the absence of. They eulogize the recently deceased over lunch before realizing the only proper goodbye; visiting the strip club Barney oft spoke of, but which the comics always avoided when he pled for company.

The strip club comes with an unexpected twist, as can be expected on Louie. Barney’s life outside the club was filled with adoring strippers – strippers who, until Louis and Robin break the news, did not even know of his death. Without their intervention, the duo realize Barney would have been buried without a second thought; a son of a bitch alive, a forgotten man upon death. Louis and Robin quickly reflect on their own worst fears, but don’t speak existentially or explicitly jabber about the bone-chilling possibility of an empty funeral. Instead, they quickly promise each other they’ll show up when the other dies. One of Louis’ fears, for now at least, is calmed. Someone will care enough to show up.

Tellingly, the next sketch opens with Louis walking with The One He Can’t Lose, Lily, who asks if the two can just spend time alone. And for the briefest of moments, Louis allows himself happiness.

Of course, this can’t last on Louie. Never’s mom is getting her vagina removed to ruin this temporary peacefulness, and Louis will have to watch the kid, obviously. The chubby, bow-tied scamp, who reminded me a bit of a Lemony Snicket Baudealaire child with a weird streak, immediately asserted his place in Louie lore. Minutes after his introduction, he rolls a stroller into the middle of a bustling New York street, and Louis hustles Lily and Never away from a literally explosive car wreck.

The plot slows, as I suppose it had to, when the makeshift family returns to Louis’ apartment. CK, the show’s writer, knew what he wanted to do with Never; he just never expanded upon his intended mission. Never, the character, is fatherless. (Maybe now that his mother is vaginaless she can fill that void?) He needs friends or companions like Louis needs his daughters. So the fashionable lad increasingly acts out, drawing Louis’ attention and Lily’s ire. Never’s increasingly outlandish behavior culminates with one of the grosser scenes allowed on TV, as he lies in the bathtub, emotionless, in his own diarrhea. That’s a phrase I never expected to ever write in my life. Thanks for that, Louie.

CK discovers Never’s cries for attention shortly after he gets off the phone with a Kansas City radio show. Tracer Pig and The Hole isn’t quite up to par with Ira and the Douche, but it proves that pretty much any send-up of shock jocks is always worth doing. The morning show banter is unintelligible, yet he handles the pair with aplomb before realizing he couldn't give a shit about Kansas City.

Louis can’t manage to withhold his contempt for the show or the city, despite his fledgling manager advising him that he can make “way more money this way.” But for Louis, it’s not about the money. Maybe it was at the onset of his career. Maybe it was when he first performed on Letterman. But to go somewhere he doesn’t want to be, without the girls that he so needs, Louis’ manners quickly fade, and all of Kansas City, as it should, continues its hatred of the man.

The skit would do well to end with Louis mouthing off the city and discovering Never, but he hammers home his theme too hard in the final minutes. The two have a man-to-bathtub-pooper discussion on Louis’ couch, where Never’s loneliness and innate desire for companionship are highlighted. Loneliness is felt at all ages, but while Louis can try to help Never deal with it better, he’s fighting a losing battle.

The quote I keep coming back to while watching the show – and I fully realize how pretentious it sounds when anyone name drops him (as if anyone’s actually read Infinite Jest) – is from David Foster Wallace. Good fiction writing, Wallace said, is “nourishing, redemptive; we become less alone inside.” And that’s what Louie is doing. By creating this fictional, absurd world, where he lives as a passive passerby acknowledging, while rarely commenting on, the various idiosyncrasies that inhabit his life, Louis is creating a world that we can’t live in, but we can sure as hell relate to. When we see his struggles to become slightly less alone inside, the same basic needs that people everywhere so crave, we realize how very real the emotions that this phallic-obsessed, foul-mouthed comic harbors, and we all can empathize with the terror of a life spent alone. Or, in this case, a death spent alone, but Louis can at least check off his one funeral companion (provided Robin Williams outlives him).

Chris' Reply

I have now watched the last two episodes of Louie, a show I and (judging by the ratings) most of America had no idea was on. The previous week's episode was billed to me as God's gift to television, and don't even get me started on how much of a downer that was. 

As for this week's episode, it was better... I guess. Usually when I watch a show that a comedian writes and stars in, I hope for jokes. Louie, however, is stuck in the middle of nowhere. Sure there are funny moments, like a fat guy getting out of a truck carrying chemicals and yelling "everybody run," but all-in-all the laughs are few and far between.

Now having just read what Mark wrote, I am sure he will lecture me on how this show is about so much more than making the audience laugh for a half hour, and how amazing things like the camera work and music choices are. The thing I don't get, is that Mark applauds the opening scene being in black-and-white, yet he hates Instagram and "what it stands for."

As for this whole 'alone' thing Mark talks about, I can't speak much about that as I have not seen more than an hour of this show. However, I think the reason America doesn't watch this show is because we all have our own problems and issues in real life - why would we come home just to experience more problems? Maybe Louie is going after the self-pity audience or something.

For a second though, let's take a step back and talk about the real reason Louie is on TV, and that is to lead up to FX's gem on Thursday nights, Brand X, starring Russel Brand. As painful as the half hour of Louie was, it was all gone a few minutes in to Brand X. It's not that Russel Band is funny or anything, it's the show design. In the approximately 10 minutes I watched, Brand managed to make fun of some ex-homeless people in the audience, ask questions to his odd "political expert," and at some point, while Brand was doing his comedy, the camera zoomed out to show two mice above the studio talking about the show. If it weren't for my early sleeping time, I would have been more than happy to enjoy the rest of the show.

 The final thing I have to add is real quick. Who quotes David Foster Wallace? Like, who does that? I wouldn't be surprised if in Mark's next post he starts quoting Plato, or Socrates or something. I mean honestly, who does he think he is?