Louis CK has been a fixture on the comedy circuit since the mid-’80s, but it’s only in recent years that he’s truly become a big name, winning an Emmy this year for his FX sitcom, “Louie,” and hosting “Saturday Night Live” earlier this month. Tickets for his two Nov. 30 shows at the Classic Center sold out months ago. So why, after decades in the industry, has he only recently become a household name? Flagpole’s guide to all things Louis has some answers.
He’s prolific.
His mix of vulgarity, absurdity, decency and plain-spokenness hasn’t always gone over well with everyone—his “Bad Fruit Theater” version of Apocalypse Now for “Late Night with Conan O’Brien,” in which he reenacted the famous film with rotten fruit, was not a hit with director Francis Ford Coppola—but CK has never stopped churning out new work. Each year, he scraps the previous year’s hour of comedy, cycling in a new stand-up routine. That’s on top of his show, for which he writes, directs, edits, acts and more.
He says what we’re all thinking.
CK’s rise to fame was bolstered in 2010 when an appearance on “Conan” went viral. “Everything is amazing right now, and nobody’s happy,” he told the host, echoing that sinking feeling we all get when we realize that our iPhones don’t actually make us any less lonely. His riff on technology, American entitlement and “the miracle of human flight” was classic Louis: hilarious, sad and thought-provoking.
He’s not greedy.
Much of CK’s comedy centers on consumer culture and the everyday ways we find to be indecent to one another. It would be a lot less funny if CK turned out to actually be the kind of rotten person he laments onstage. Turns out, he’s actually a decent guy. Take, for example, the sale of his stand-up special last year. Choosing to distribute it solely through his website, à la Radiohead, he charged $5 per download and made a cool million bucks in 10 days. He then turned around and gave just over half of it away, shelling out $280,000 to charities and $250,000 in staff bonuses. (“I felt uncomfortable having that much money,” he said.)
He helps out his friends.
CK always seems to be looking for ways to give his friends a boost. “Louie” boasts a near-constant stream of guest stars, from big-name comedians like Sarah Silverman and Chris Rock to lesser-known folks like Marc Maron and Tig Notaro. This year, he really outdid himself, helping launch Notaro from relative obscurity to being covered by virtually every major media outlet. After seeing the comedienne perform a spectacular stand-up set about a recent string of terrible luck (a crippling illness, the sudden death of her mother, the end of a relationship and a breast cancer diagnosis all within a few months), CK insisted on selling a recording of the show on his website and taking only 20 percent of the profits. With a few tweets, interviews and blog posts, he launched his friend into the national spotlight—not because he wanted something back from her, but because he loved her work.
He’s not afraid to get dirty.
While the pathos of CK’s more searching, high-brow material has made him a bit of a folk hero, his penchant for vulgarity is equally important. Take this quote from his appearance on “The Daily Show”: “People think that [farts are] low-brow humor; it’s stupid humor… You don’t have to be smart to laugh at farts, but you’d have to be stupid not to.”
Well said, Louis. Well said.
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