Sorry/Not Sorry

This sobering documentary about the fall and rebirth of comedic comet Louis C.K. asks the hard questions about where we draw the line on disgrace and atonement.

First, let’s talk about the shortcomings of “Sorry/Not Sorry,” the sobering new documentary about the fall of comedic comet Louis C.K. after the revelation of his years-long sexual impropriety toward women.

First off, it’s made by the New York Times, the same folks who first broke the story in 2017 about Louis’ habit of masturbating in front of women, though — his defenders are quick to note — only after asking permission. So, don’t expect a very sympathetic portrait of him or to hear things from his side.

A very big part of the reason for that is because Louis, unsurprisingly, declined to participate in the making of this film, directed by Cara Mones and Caroline Suh. Just as he never submitted to journalistic interviews over his misdeeds, preferring to issue his own statement of contrition, Louis seems to be a person who insists on speaking for himself. Which he has continued to do so in his stand-up routines and frequent radio and podcast appearances.

Lastly, the documentary suffers by not having any interviews with the women who were directly victimized by Louis. For a movie that is at its essence about how an industry kept women silenced from talking about indecent behavior, this seems like a fatal flaw.

It’s not. “Sorry/Not Sorry” still manages to be a worthy exploration of the underbelly of comedy, where its practitioners are adored for their onstage har-har but often carry on unspeakable behavior off it. (See Cosby, William.) And it holds a harsh mirror up to an entertainment industry too willing to employ people despite evidence of their despicable acts if they garner eyeballs and bucks.

“The fact that I thought this wasn’t my problem, was the problem,” says Michael Schur, co-creator of “Parks and Recreation,” who had Louis on his show a couple of times despite hearing the rumors.

So it’s basically a talking-head piece with journalists, other comedians and insiders who speak to how Louis got away with his crudity for so long, the context of his downfall at the height of the me-too movement with Harvey Weinstein as its poster boy, and the appropriateness of his coming back from his self-imposed exile sooner than some people thought he should.

“Sorry/Not Sorry” is playing a limited theatrical run in New York and L.A., and is available for VOD purchase on the usual platforms July 12.

In addition to exposing Louis’ sordid acts, the documentary also acts as a probing rumination on disgrace and atonement. Who gets forgiven? How long does it take? How much of their former careers are they permitted to reclaim?

Allison Hermann, a critic for Variety, says that female fans found Louis C.K. “endearing” because he self-admitted his own lunkishness toward women — and by extension that of all men — and made fun of it. He was a lout who admitted it, thereby rendering himself redeemable.

“As disgusting as he painted himself to be, we felt like we knew his heart,” she says.

The doc takes us through the entire drip-drip of the revelation, from whisperings in the comedy backstages in the early 2000s to a Gawker article in 2015 that essentially exposed Louis’ strange obsession without naming him.

Comedienne Jen Kirman gives some of the best insights. Louis talked to her about his masturbatory obsession without actually doing anything two decades ago. She thought he was just trying out a comedy bit, she says. But she heard the stories about what Louis was doing with other women and was the first to publicly point a figure, again without names.

Around the same time Megan Koester began to ask questions about the accusations at a major comedy film festival and found herself shut down, and now is out of the comedy business. Her rage is palpable during her interview.

Abby Schachner, on the other hand, has striven to move past it. She became semi-famous for being a named source in the Times article saying Louis masturbated while talking on the phone with her. This made her the butt of jokes about why she didn’t just hang up, including extended riffs from Dave Chapelle — perhaps the only comedian whose star could outshine Louis’. Now she fears the episode will be in her obituary.

Other important players who weighed in during the height of the controversy, like Jon Stewart and Tig Notaro, only appear through contemporaneous video snippets. Notaro was one of the harshest voices to criticize him, despite having her career helped by Louis producing her show, and felt like maybe he was doing preemptive penance for his abuse.

It’s hard to state exactly how big Louis C.K. was in 2017. Not only did he fill stadiums for his stand-up, he had his own award-winning TV show and was producing others featuring his friends and fellow comedians. As one observer, Andy Kindler, points out, Louis was essentially a mini-studio head and the head of the entire comedy community. People’s careers could rise or fall by coming into his good graces.

It can be hard to draw a line, someone says, especially when it’s someone you work with and admire. But even if you have to later erase or move that line, it’s better than having no lines at all.

I’ll end with my own take on the whole imbroglio. I am one of the seemingly rare folks who thinks the repercussions Louis experienced pretty generally matched his misdeeds. He came back and still has a career, but it’s maybe 1/10th of what it was. He has to hock his shows and albums on his own website. He even has a line in one of his routines where he jokes about how much money he lost.

I remember at the time Louis had a movie he directed and starred in, “I Love You, Daddy,” coming out with high hopes for awards consideration. Though it was already done and in the can, the film effectively just ceased to exist. Its release was canceled and you can’t buy or stream it anywhere (legally).

I actually had a DVD of it that was sent to critics, and was getting ready to watch it when the news broke. I never circled back to it. Maybe it’s brilliant. Maybe it’s garbage. People will never know. I feel worse for Chloë Grace Moretz and the other actors and crew on the film who did all that work and had it erased because of Louis’ disgusting arrogance.

Most of all, though, our sympathies should lie with the women who were traumatized at Louis’ hands, suffered in silence for years, and were then vilified when they finally spoke up. If the comedian fell from a high perch he’ll never achieve again, many of them saw their careers and dreams permanently dashed.

It’s a strange thing, our relationship with entertainers. I’ll admit I’ve watched some of Louis’ post-scandal routine and laughed. It’s not as good as his 2010s stuff, but it’s still humorous. He’s a smart, funny guy who seems unafraid to turn his most painful vulnerabilities and icky tendencies into hilarity.

And yet he’s also a guy who caused a lot of people pain and discomfort, and seems content to have apologized just enough to carry on with his life, without thinking about if his victims can, too.

I think the best line in “Sorry/Not Sorry” belongs to some random guy attending a Louis C.K. show after his comeback. I’ll leave it here:

“I think that we all have to live with a certain amount of hypocrisy. And this is the amount that I've allocated for myself.”