Friday night, one Jersey beach jumped to life ahead of the summer season. Just past midnight, swathes of fans emptied out of the Paramount Theater in Asbury Park and into the brisk ocean air after seeing comedian Louis C.K. finish his third consecutive, sold-out show there. C.K. was in the town as part of his recently recently announced 13-stop tour in May and June. He closed to a standing ovation.
It’s unclear whether any other comedian could garner such unadulterated and instant support - he sold out most of the 13 shows on this mini-tour within a day or so of his May 9th announcement, with the first show happening just 10 days after the announcement. It’s also unclear if any other comedian could deliver quite like him.
C.K. - or Louis (pronounced “lu-ee”) - was on stage for about an hour, working at a steady, even clip. The material ranged from the drudgery of parenthood to his father’s yam-like penis. He ruminated on how poorly he'd fare as a gay man with his looks, at his age, and with his stubborn “top shelf” Matthew McConaughey taste. He repainted Achilles as a moron who cowardly blames his long-suffering mother for his pierced heel. He pretended to give the microphone head for a full 20-seconds.
There was a lot about penises.
Louis has a tremendous career as a comedian, including stand-up specials and his own show. Perhaps many would lose their edge after such resounding success, but that’s not the case with Louis. Live stage work is gritty, raw, and an incredible art. It’s real. Maybe that’s why he has returned there.
What endears many to Louis is that he has no qualms about himself or his shortcomings. He’s a very “below average” kind of guy: balding, slightly overweight, divorced and often unhappy. Yet it’s also clear that he does not aspire to overcome himself or his shortcomings. One of his greatest talents as a comic is his ability to couch his human failings in a most profound way; in an Everyman way. He espouses the human nature we all hate and love about ourselves. He not only articulates, but enjoys self-consciousness. Louis is also therefore a potent meta comic able to brilliantly toy with his audience. He busts them for following along with his stereotyped impressions by calling it an impression of something else entirely, catching the audience off-guard. He says his father is Mexican, following defensively, absurdly, with: “I’m not!” and minimizing his association with the race as someone who’s mother “slept with a Mexican.”
Perhaps his most profound bit focused on time, as in time itself, and it’s foundation being so arbitrarily placed upon the birthdate of Jesus Christ. He took one of life’s “givens,” turned it on its head, and shook it out for its absurdity, which, when he describes it, is truly, tragically, hilarious. And this is part of the genius of Louis C.K. He’s not working inside of the box, yet not outside of it either. Louis refutes the existence of the box.
At the end of the show, the audience stood to applaud Louis, who, in turn, silently surveyed the audience. His armor was off; the jokes were over and he was off-mic, yet he lingered with us for a maybe a minute. He could have rushed off with his victory, or indulged in the accolades, yet he did neither. He simply let us commune with him, which, to me, said a lot.
*double/triple selfie credit to Lauren Tallon
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