'Sorry/Not Sorry' Review: Louis C.K. Is a Bad Person

By Dustin Rowles | Film | July 16, 2024 |

By Dustin Rowles | Film | July 16, 2024 |

Let’s get this out of the way: Sorry/Not Sorry, the documentary on Louis C.K.’s reckoning (or lack thereof), is a powerful piece of filmmaking, expertly assembled by directors Cara Mones and Caroline Suh. Based on the NYTimes article by Jodi Kantor, Cara Buckley, and Melena Ryzik, the documentary finally gives a platform to Louis C.K.’s accusers, allowing them to share their full accounts and impressions of his career since he was “canceled” in 2017. It’s absolutely worth watching.

I am infuriated that Sorry/Not Sorry is available only on VOD. It’s not about the $4 cost but the fact that none of the major streaming platforms picked it up and gave it the wide audience it deserves. The public is clearly interested in this story, and it would generate significant viewership on platforms like Netflix or HBO. However, it seems obvious that corporations are avoiding anything that might divide their audience or portray figures like Dave Chappelle in an unflattering light because those same corporations earn money from figures like Chappelle.

By now, most people know the story. Rumors about Louis C.K. masturbating in front of female comics circulated for years. In 2017, after the rumors became impossible to ignore, the NYTimes published a piece detailing the accounts of five women. The next day, Louis C.K. released a letter acknowledging that everything the women alleged was true but stopped short of apologizing. He then exited public life.

Nine months later, he resurfaced and regained much of his previous audience over the next few years. He continued to sell out shows, released wildly successful stand-up specials, and even won a Grammy for a stand-up album in which he falsely claimed he had obtained consent from the women and portrayed himself as a victim of kink-shaming.

None of this is surprising. Powerful men have always been able to escape consequences. Bullies, especially those with fame and influence, often sidestep accountability, using their power to silence or discredit their victims or — in Louis’s case — minimize their trauma. What upset me most about the documentary is how many people knew and defended him anyway (Janeane Garofalo, WTF?) and how many fans continue to cheer him on. It’s infuriating to see people laugh when Dave Chappelle mocks and dismisses Louis C.K.’s accusers. Louis C.K. masturbated in front of women without their consent, and yet his fans not only cheered his entrance but applauded when he joked about his own misconduct. “We love you, Louis!”

The documentary, at one point, also addresses whether a path for redemption should exist for men like Louis C.K. Whether you believe such a path should exist or not, it’s one thing to forgive but quite another to celebrate a man whose actions would have gotten him fired in almost any other profession. This celebration of a bully, a man who used his position of power to exploit and degrade women, is a painful, anger-inducing reminder of how society often excuses and even rewards predatory behavior.

What I used to like about Louis C.K.’s comedy was his perspective as a loser, a schlubby, pathetic everyman. But that’s not who Louis C.K. is. He’s just another man with fame and power: a bully. Instead of reckoning with his misconduct, he reframed it, dismissed his accusers, and left them to fend for themselves when his fans attacked them. He learned nothing and taught hundreds of thousands of his male fans that they don’t have to learn anything from his mistakes either. This is the danger of letting bullies like Louis C.K. off the hook: it perpetuates a cycle of abuse and impunity, showing the world that with enough clout, you can get away with anything.