Louis CK ‘Ridiculous’ review: a biting comeback

When Louis CK was publicly accused of sexual misconduct, then confirmed that “these stories are true,” partially withdrew from public life and gradually returned — a trajectory that began with comedy club appearances just nine months after the story broke in the fall of 2017, and then continued through sold-out tours, self-distributed specials, a Grammy and ultimately “Ridiculous,” a new hour now streaming on Netflix — one thing was never in question: his talent.

CK is one of the most gifted and influential artists of his generation, and he would remain so even if he never took the stage again. His FX series “Louie” set the template for a slew of author sitcoms like “Ramy” and “Dave”; his pioneering method of selling specials and self-financed projects like the drama “Horace and Pete” through his website foreshadowed the so-called creator economy, built on direct connections between artists and fans. (The same infrastructure would also allow him to weather the coming storm.) All of this was built on a self-deprecating, stand-up persona that undermined middle-aged masculinity. CK had been working for decades, but his career was over Real only emerged when he was a divorced, pot-bellied father who made fun of his own contempt. This was no coincidence.

So when I say that “Ridiculous” is a strong hour of material, performed with practiced expertise, it should come as no surprise. Throughout his time outside the mainstream, but never truly out of the spotlight, CK’s output has remained consistent; “Ridiculous,” which CK also directed, is actually the comic’s fifth special since the New York Times story that led to his temporary hiatus. (Only the first, “Sincerely, Louis CK,” directly addressed his behavior: “You have to check in often… It’s not always clear how people feel,” he said of repeatedly masturbating to women who felt pressured to say yes or stay silent, before giving his next hour the seemingly ironic title “Sorry.”) CK’s presentation, too, has remained largely the same: a scruffy man in a black T-shirt expounding on the foibles of modern life.

The difference now is that “Ridiculous” is available on a major streaming service that paid CK for the privilege of hosting it. When the company’s stand-up czar, Robbie Praw, told me Variety colleague that “this is just about giving [subscribers] an option” and that viewers “have to make a decision” about their own personal viewing habits, he downplayed the decision Netflix itself made to re-enter a business relationship with CK (the comedian also headlined the Hollywood Bowl earlier this year as part of the company’s Netflix Is a Joke festival.) The release of “Ridiculous” also culminates in a tour that saw CK push the kind of liberal-coded publications that once covered his reputational decline, with rave reviews in both the Times And the New Yorker.

As a basis for the institutional approval that CK apparently still craves, despite doing just fine on his own, ‘Ridiculous’ fits the brief. Some of the absurdism of his early style has crept back into the act, coupled with a clear pleasure in playing with taboo subjects and landing the plane to the audience’s approval. The opening joke – a one-liner proclaiming, “I took an AIDS test today. I haven’t had sex in years, I just wanted good news” – escalates into the false confession: “I fucked a gay rat and I got AIDS.” Later, he reassures the crowd: “Of course I’m not breastfeeding from my mother now” – then adds after a pause: “Because we had her cremated.” Pedophilia, diarrhea and the Holocaust are discussed successively. The only topic that seems truly off-limits is why CK took a nine-year hiatus from Netflix after “2017.”

CK has a knack for putting all these provocations into context, giving the sense that he’s enjoying walking a tightrope in full public view. (He has this in common with Shane Gillis, another comedian who lost access to mainstream platforms after a scandal and then regained them thanks to grassroots appeal. In addition to their work airing on Netflix, CK and Gillis are friends and once co-created a four-part podcast.) The fact remains that the reason CK was able to behave the way he did for so long is that it became an open secret even before the Times. research, and the reason he was able to continue to sell tickets and draw audiences is that he truly has a rare and exceptional ability to make people laugh.

He also has a genuine insight into the human condition, which begins to come to the fore as “Ridiculous” progresses. It begins with the grumpy misanthropy that has remained a hallmark despite several rounds of runaway success. “I hate wake up,” he complains—not the first time he’s tapped into the virtues of sleep-induced oblivion. “I live in New York and I don’t like it,” begins another segment. Much of this half-empty grumbling begins to center around the aging body, especially his own. His daily mantra is, “You’re just a man. You’re quite fat. It’s almost over.” After dissecting his new under-eye bags and their menacing shadows, CK claims, “You never see a woman like that before she committed suicide.” The line is a throwback to the kind of gender double-standard commentary that once earned CK praise but then took on more sinister undertones. Now it’s just one joke among many.

The most extended run in the special, and the one most likely to draw attention outside of it, concerns CK and his sisters placing their father in a nursing home, a place whose depression he describes in suggestive detail: “There’s a pink plastic water pitcher in the room, you know what I mean?” CK freely indulges some of his less than lofty motives for sending his father away, giving voice to the thoughts of middle-aged adults who find themselves in the same extremely common situation. (“He was too old to stop us from putting him in!”) The riff lands in the same place as the parenting anecdotes that were once a staple of CK, now largely retired since his kids grew up. There is honesty and a bit of cruelty. ‘My father is there now while we laugh at him” – in which CK tackles a widely shared experience tempered by the humbling knowledge that we are heading in the same direction on the one-way tape of time.

Our culture has undoubtedly made a mistake by portraying comedians as philosopher-kings endowed with special wisdom, a holdover from the 2010s that gave figures like CK additional power that they then abused. But days after watching “Ridiculous,” some of its sharper lines stuck with me — observations like “People don’t get to where they are until later.” Life teaches you how should lived it.” That included silly moments like CK portraying the obstacle course stand-up for a bathroom break during a movie, as necessitated by an age-shrunken bladder. (The next day I went to a screening and saw how life imitated art.) The contrast between childish bits about pissing and resonant reflections on death in slow motion is effective, magnifying the impact of each tactic in turn.

“Ridiculous” doesn’t make CK’s revival mysterious, even if that was never that big of a deal to begin with. Even at its height, #MeToo felt seismic precisely because the movement was a departure from the historical norm; almost a decade later, that norm has slowly reasserted itself. Despite how unfair Praw’s logic sounds coming from a company like Netflix, he is correct that CK’s current position is the accumulation of many individuals choosing to engage with his work. In my personal life, I’ve taken my cues from said accusers like fellow comedians Julia Wolov and Rebecca Corry, whose public statements suggest that CK hasn’t made amends to a degree that makes me feel comfortable turning to him for entertainment. In my professional situation, the number of people who have made a different choice with the same information has made it impossible to ignore him, which prompted this review. Many of CK’s mannerisms, such as the effeminate voice that is one of his standard imitations, have remained unchanged since his forced career change. The arrival of ‘Ridiculous’ on Netflix also suggests a lot about the world.

“Louis CK: Ridiculous” is now streaming on Netflix.