For as much as many gripe about how ‘cancel culture’ is ruining society, it seems that a number of those supposedly banished find way a way to weasel their way back into the mainstream. One of those is comedian Louis C.K. who was riding as high as a comic could in 2017 when he was ‘canceled’ after revelations of his outrageous sexual harassment of female colleagues. (More on that later.) C.K. did cop to his sins at least, withdrawing from the spotlight for a short time before making a comeback a mere year later.
So much for cancel culture, right?
That’s where the new documentary SORRY NOT SORRY comes in. It is not only a clear account of the controversy surrounding C.K.’s fall from grace, but it additionally examines his comeback and what it says about entitlement and the short memories of his cronies and audiences. Indeed, this shrewd film, produced by the New York Times, not only wags a righteous finger at C.K. for his perversity but at the show biz community where many all too easily looked the other way during his indefensible actions and continued to remain silent during his return too. The film is clearly on the side of the victims of C.K. and they’re still rattled by their experiences with him. They paid a steep price too, fleeing a business that allowed them to be treated so shabbily throughout the whole ordeal. Meanwhile, because C.K. was winning Emmys and producing many TV shows including his own heralded sitcom LOUIE, others in power let a lot of the comedian’s transgressions slide for far too long.
Filmmakers Caroline Suh and Cara Mones place a number of those victims on camera here and the unflinching testimony is riveting. The women tell their stories with clarity, bravery, and often, not surprising for comedians, sardonic humor. Comics Jen Kirkman, Megan Koesher, and Abby Schachner are just three who tell of their crazy interactions with C.K. as he chose to openly masturbate in front of them without their consent, and in public settings no less, like backstage at various comedy clubs. The specifics chronicled throughout the film suggest that too many in the Hollywood press glossed over much of the unseemly material, perhaps to avoid all of its implications regarding the patriarchy in Tinsel Town.
It would have been a coup, and helpful for the doc if the filmmakers had been able to include a new interview with C.K. himself, but I’m sure that was a bridge too far for him to navigate while making his comeback. Sure, C.K.’s attempt to explain himself via the written, public statement he released at the time is included in the film, but those words seem even more facile today. A few of C.K.’s colleagues on the record attempt to understand his motives in the doc, but most are stymied by actions that seem utterly inexplicable.
In many ways, the best part of the doc lies in its examination of just how easy it was for C.K. to return to the limelight. Here, the filmmakers are wagging their finger at the nation and its amnesia-like ability to forget and all too easily forgive. And, of course, if you’re wealthy, male, and celebrated, entitlement glosses over all sorts of sin in the USA, doesn’t it? Look no further than our current presidential contest if you need any more proof of just how transgressions can be overlooked when felonious acts are perpetrated by the rich and famous. Giving Louis C.K. a Grammy for Best Comedy Album in 2022 as a welcome home present is nothing compared to all the enabling going on this political season.
