Louis C.K. describes his horrible experience on The Dana Carvey Show, how you learn more from failure than success, and why he does everything himself on his own TV show.
Last week, John Landgraf took the biggest risk of what has been a remarkably successful career full of them. From a well-lit stage in New York he announced the upcoming split of his network, FX, into a trio of complementary siblings: FX (unchanged), FXX (FX on Red Bull) and FXM (FX on chamomile tea). The day after the big reveal — and the subsequent, star-filled network party at a Manhattan bowling alley — Landgraf joined me in the studio to discuss the thinking behind the big move. What followed was a fascinating, considerably wonky conversation about TV as seen from the executive suite. Landgraf was forthcoming — and, it must be said, quite confident — about his decision-making process: why (and how) he empowered Louis C.K. to make Louie, the thinking behind hits such as Justified and The Americans, and why he missed on shows like Breaking Bad and The Walking Dead. (And yes, fellow diehards: I did get him to publicly admit to being "the asshole" who canceled the wonderful Terriers.) With its new suite of networks and its ambitious upcoming projects, FX is making a strong play to define the future of television.
Tea tweaking on “Breaking Abbey,” the Downton Abbey–Breaking Bad hybrid you never knew you needed until you considered the image of a person snorting a line of Earl Grey. Soon Downton will be “kicking it with mad bitches and Benjamins.”
Don't panic! Louis C.K. isn't slow-rolling a shutdown of his eponymous, industry-beloved marvel just yet. As he explained in a conference call with reporters this afternoon, he just wants some time off.
The plan is to delay writing the episodes until early next year, and then go into production on them in September or October. That means they will most likely air in the spring of 2014. Of course, FX president John Landgraf has signed off on the hiatus: "The goal of FX, in terms of its relationship to Louie and his creative process, has always been to say yes and to give him whatever space he needs to create, as best he can." And letting Louie do whatever the hell he wants has worked out pretty great for everyone so far!
Louis C.K.'s dictatorially controlled sitcom/weekly short film/art project/sometime comedy-delivery system Louie will wrap its third season tonight on FX. It's been a tremendous run: Heightened plot coherence, including two multi-episode arcs; unforgettable cameos by Parker Posey, David Lynch, and Melissa Leo, along with welcome spots from Robin Williams, Marc Maron, Maria Bamford, Paul Rudd, Susan Sarandon, and Jerry Seinfeld; advanced prowess in the filmmaking, scoring, and writing. Even in the few wonky moments, it's been a pleasure to witness C.K. whittling this series toward further excellence the way he did with his stand-up act and his business acumen. While Sir Szekely has built the show around his nonexistent need of assistance, we're in for a long, bitter Louie-less stretch of months after tonight's finale, so we're gonna daydream about Season 4 for just a moment. Here are 10 humble requests for a man who takes orders from no one.
The Television Critics Association Press Tour 2012 rolled on this weekend. Presenting over the last few days were FX and CBS, and they had news on shows you like, shows you hate, and shows you probably didn't even know existed. To the breakdown!
Last night’s breathtaking episode of Louie also served as a remarkable change of pace. Not only did it pick up the events of last week’s wonderful “Daddy’s Girlfriend” — a surprising blast of continuity for the famously shaggy show — it also provided a brilliant showcase for the talents of Parker Posey, the onetime “Queen of the Indies." As Liz (née Tape Recorder), Louis C.K.’s bookish, possibly bananas date, Posey was a revelation, leading our hero like a schlubby Dante through the vibrant underworld that is New York City.
Alternately tender and terrifying, “Daddy’s Girlfriend Part 2” was both a creative breakthrough for an already excellent show and a long-needed turn in the spotlight for Posey, one of the most gifted actors alive at revealing the brittle cracks hiding behind every smile. Speaking to me via cell phone from Los Angeles, where the longtime Manhattanite was taking meetings and “dodging grass cutters,” Posey was funny, engaging, and breathless. When I ended the call by complimenting her again on her performance, she replied like the working actor she is. “Thank you,” she laughed. “Hopefully someone will see it. And give me a job.”
At 5:40 a.m. this morning on the West Coast, Jimmy Kimmel (in pajamas) and Kerry Washington (in need of coffee) made a lot of English people very, very happy. Downton Abbey — freed from the shackles of its bizarre “miniseries” designation — not only was free to play with the big boys in the 64th Emmy Awards, but to now dominate them with 16 nominations (for those reading in London, that’s about nine quid). The rest of the nominations followed recent trends, a smooth mix of populist favorites (Jim Parsons, Melissa McCarthy) and critical validation (Lena Dunham! Louis C.K.! Gus Fring!). For those looking for axes to grind, the usual snubs were apparent (Community, Nick Offerman, the veterinarians of Luck). But the truth is, compared to its geriatric sister award shows, the Emmys continually come the closest to actually recognizing excellence.
As for those merely looking for axes, you can rest easy: Game of Thrones snagged 11 nominations of its own. (A full list of the nominees can be found here.)
It was renowned (and recently deceased) film critic Andrew Sarris who popularized the “auteur theory” in American cinema. In extreme shorthand, it’s the belief that films are best viewed as the aesthetic extension of one human — the director — whose top-down decisions affect every aspect of what we see onscreen. In recent years, those of us who cover television for a living have come to apply the auteur theory to the idiot box as well, considering the best shows as ongoing art projects propagated by a single visionary showrunner: Vince Gilligan on Breaking Bad, Kurt Sutter on Sons of Anarchy, Whitney Cummings on Whitney.
First, it's time for another losing Thursday night football pick! I'm grabbing Jacksonville +12.5 points in Atlanta for the simple reason that the 2011 Falcons shouldn't be favored by that many points over anyone except the Rams and the Indianapolis Orlovskys.
OK, so last night was a big for the BS Report studio: the great Louis C.K. stopped by for a lively chat about his new comedy special ("Louis C.K.: Live at the Beacon Theater"), his superb FX comedy Louie, the story behind the famous Dane Cook episode, the ups and downs of his standup career, his creative process, and topics like "Why does Hollywood try to meddle so much with creative people?", "Can Chris Rock become a serious actor some day?" and "Is it OK to want to beat up kids in your daughter's school without actually beating them up?" Somehow we babbled on for two parts without ever mentioning Boston (he grew up there), the Celtics (he loves them) or boxing (his favorite sport). Maybe next time.
How are television’s favorite angry white males of a certain age feeling put-upon and impotent this week? Let us count the ways.
Predicament: The season finale of Curb’s New York adventure has everything you’d want: pre-gay seven-year-olds, Mayor Bloomberg, Nazi iconography, narrative symmetry, and the highest concentration of Parkinson’s disease jokes per minute in sitcom history, presumably.
Too bad that the amazingly sassy, kid who played Ana Gasteyer’s Project Runway-loving, swastika-appreciating son Greg had the misfortune of appearing in the same episode where Michael J. Fox got to play himself as (maybe?) a diabolical bastard who uses his debilitating illness to completely fuck with Larry David, otherwise that’s all people would be talking about. Instead, Fox, perhaps ticked at being shushed by Larry at a piano bar, has a field day playing with his own saintly image, and ultimately uses his vast influence to get Larry kicked out of New York for miming a violin during Fox’s benefit speech. Although Larry doesn’t actually leave until he’s once again asked to appear at a charity event for ill children — then he and Leon are off to harass pig-parkers in Paris.
How are television’s favorite angry white males of a certain age feeling put-upon and impotent this week? Let us count the ways.
Predicament: The main objective of “Hermanos” is to establish Gustavo Fring’s origin story and the source of his conflict with the cartel and the now-silent Tio Hector, just as Hank seems to be backing the stoic chicken man into a corner. But that increased scrutiny — combined with Walt’s unwitting participation in Hank’s case and Jesse’s apparent shift in loyalty towards the man he’s supposed to be poisoning with ricin — causes Walt to feel strangely simpatico with the man he’s been trying to murder all season. (You know, in self-defense.) He knows this looks bad and wants Gus to understand he wants no part of the tracking-device scheme Hank is counting on to counter Gus’ ice-cold, largely redemptive questioning.
How are television’s favorite angry white males of a certain age feeling put-upon and impotent this week? Let us count the ways.
Predicament: Perhaps galvanized by making clear to Skyler where he resides on the guy-who-knocks-or-doesn’t-knock continuum last week, he both disregards her instructions about returning Walt Jr.’s new Challenger to the dealership by instead blowing it up (rather than walking away from the explosion, he sits and watches it while calling for a cab) and revels in her discomfort over the sheer amounts of cash she’s being tasked with laundering, as well as her realization that a car wash is insufficient as a cover. He also provides a vial of ricin for Jesse to slip his new pal Gus.
How are television’s favorite angry white males of a certain age feeling put-upon this week? Let us count the ways.
Predicament: Here comes the hangover: The morning after drinking too much red wine and telling too many DEA agents that the dead meth chemist they’re investigating is a mere pretender and the real Heisenberg is still out there, wink wink, Walt wakes up with a giant headache. Make that two — Skyler is understandably concerned that someone may knock on their door one night and shoot Walt in the face. His response is chilling. Not only is he too indispensable to his employers’ concerns to be in danger, he’s actually the one who will knock on someone’s door. Skyler gets the message loud and clear: Her passive high-school chemistry teacher husband is no passive middle-manager; he’s a stone-cold killer, and if she has any illusions that they’re going to get out of this thing clean, she is mistaken. She takes Holly and drives to Four Corners, and even after two coin flips tell her to keep driving to Colorado, she can’t do it.
How are television’s favorite angry white males of a certain age feeling put-upon and impotent this week? Let us count the ways.
Predicament: Double the Louie episodes (seriously, what’s your hurry, FX?) means double the opportunity for angst. In the first, Louie appears on Red Eye (!) to vigorously defend the art of self-doin’ it against a prim, virtuous Ellen of Citizens Against Masturbation on behalf of everyone who’s ever lived, save for her. She appeals to his loneliness and desperation and dares him to come to one of her meetings, but not before he fantasizes about shoving an entire bag of dicks into an attractive elevator passenger suffering from a crippling case of no-dicks-up-in-here. Louie shows up at the end of a CAM meeting, then goes out for a drink with Ellen, then ends up back at her hotel suite with her cozied up next to him in a silk robe. He tries to kiss her, with predictably doomed results, and she proceeds to talk him through how amazing sex could be if they fell in love slowly and then got married. He, of course, uses this as inspiration in the hotel bathroom, which proves to be much sexier material than NPR reports about African genocide.
