It's been a few weeks since season four ended. And with hindsight comes clarity. Ish.

This article contains spoilers for season four of Louie. It also includes reference to sexual assault which might be confronting for some readers.

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Less than two months ago, on the cusp of its season four premiere, I penned an overview of what made Louie the most unique show on TV. Now that the season finale of the genre-defying sitcom has come and gone, I’m even more convinced of it. Not only has the show remained committed to flipping the bird at the structures and conventions of the form, but it’s done so in such a complex and confronting way that audiences and critics were left with a severe case of whiplash. I’m still nursing the curves of my neck.

As a showrunner, Louis C.K. has always willfully steered viewers clear out of their comfort zones — not only to tickle their funny bones, but to knead the largely untouched knots of human experience. Season four was no exception, but it offered more than that, too: after a self-imposed 19-month hiatus, Louis delivered what is perhaps the most divisive scene in his show’s history — one that didn’t merely catch viewers off guard, but moved some permanently off-side.

On ‘Pamela’, And The Kiss

The controversy begins during part one-of-three of ‘Pamela’.

Louie arrives home to find the titular character/friend/love-interest/quasi-antagonist asleep on the couch, after babysitting his two daughters. On her way out, Louie attempts to force a kiss, asserting relentless physical power over Pamela despite her repeated protests.

Once she finally wrenches herself from his fumbling — yet undeniably violent — grasp and reaches the apartment’s exit, Louie blocks her path and tries to appeal to her sense of reason. She was recently interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with him, he claims, and he knows she wants to “do things”, but because something’s blocking her reciprocation he’s going to “take control”. She relents, wincing as he plants one on her non-committal lips, after which she finally gets the hell out of there. Louie celebrates personal accomplishment with a deluded double fist-pump.

It’s an extremely uncomfortable — and to many, disturbing — scene, but it wasn’t merely the physical assault that outraged the internet. It was also the perceived lack of consequences. After a deliberate two-episode detour into Louie’s adolescence before parts two and three of ‘Pamela’ round out the season, he and Pamela finally begin a relationship, without explicitly addressing the brutality of the moment.

The Backlash

Last week, Claire Lobenfeld of Gawker posted an impassioned piece on the season called ‘When Louie Stopped Being Funny’. It’s summed up by her concluding sentence: “What we learn in this season of Louie is that if you press a woman hard enough, she will eventually be romantic with you in the capacity that you want.”

Lobenfeld’s argument rests on her reading of the scene as an ‘attempted rape’. Anita Li of mashable.com agrees: “Where are the consequences? Even though Pamela has toyed with Louie’s feelings, the consequences of his attempted rape should have been clear. It would’ve made more sense — both artistically and morally — to have Pamela dump Louie, or for the two to break up.”

I understand these reactions; it’s a painfully disconcerting moment to sit through. But this is Louie, and C.K. could never be accused of being unaware of what he’s doing. His scenes are meticulously constructed, nuanced, layered, and often open to individual interpretation. Until he or his co-writer Pamela Adlon provide comment, my evolving opinion is that this season is not condoning Louie’s behaviour, nor is the moment an attempted rape.

The scene was preceded by a bit of stand-up that homes in on one of C.K.’s favourite themes: the inherent stupidity of masculinity. In this bit, C.K. — well-known as a feminist — asserts that women should be the dominant sex, that they’re more sensible, and that the only reason history has placed men behind the driver’s seat is because they use and abuse force. This is the show’s way of explicitly expressing its disdain for male violence against women, before exploring something far less black-and-white: the relationship between these two specific characters, within their specific story.

The Characters And Relationship Of Pamela And Louie

Pamela knows Louie, perhaps better than he knows himself. Up until this season, she was more an embodiment of Louie’s inner voice than a three-dimensional character. She berates him, casts disparagements on his looks, his insecurities, his wimpiness, but always with playfulness and affection. She laughs at his weaknesses in a similar way that he does at his own, through his stand-up. She’s allegedly repulsed by him but thoroughly enjoys his company. They share a love of the crass and the crude. And, most importantly, she’s the one person in his life that can see right through him.

Prior to this season, their relationship was mostly painted as a picture of unrequited love, on Louie’s side. The only romantic interest from Pamela we’d seen was on a single night in season two, when she hinted they take a bath together – a moment Louie failed to clock until it had passed. At the end of season two, Pamela leaves the country and Louie lets his perceived ‘true love’ fade into the fat-folds of his mind.

In season four, while Louie is in the midst of a sweet relationship with Amia — a Hungarian woman who doesn’t speak a word of English and is soon to return home — Pamela startles him with a literal and metaphorical kick up the ass. She admits how much she’s missed him, and — with great difficulty — reveals that she’s willing to try a romantic relationship. But Louie is in the throes of his own love story, one that’s uncluttered by the need to verbally express feelings, and the last thing he wants in that moment is to have his rose-tinted bubble burst by the woman who reminds him of everything he hates about himself.

After Louie and Amia part ways, he belatedly tries to take up Pamela’s offer only to be told that “the ship has sailed” — in a way that suggests she’s (justifiably) reacting out of wounded pride. This is the first moment where Pamela feels like a real character, one who finds not only her feelings for Louie difficult to digest, but romantic feelings themselves.

So here’s where that sticky scene comes in. At a character level, Louie’s aggressive attempt to kiss Pamela is foolish, fueled by a misguided desire to be the dominant alpha male in order to get her to break down her barriers and admit her true feelings. At a more general level, his actions were horrible, abusive, and just plain wrong, but even Pamela knows this was not a man trying to rape a woman — confirmed in her own words, “this would be rape if you weren’t so stupid”. She knows the intention behind Louie’s hideous behavior: not to abuse a woman into satisfying his own sexual desires, but to wrench an acknowledgement from her – in the most misguided way — that she is interested in him.

In ‘Pamela Part Two’, Louie goes about breaking down Pamela’s barriers in a completely different way. He asks her out. He insists it’s a date. He demonstrates the ability to surprise Pamela with an uncharacteristically commanding charm, one that she’s always berated him for lacking. Gawker’s Lobenfeld read this as a just-as-sinister version of Louie pressuring Pamela into a romantic situation, but if you watch it again, it wasn’t. She enjoyed every moment of his attempt to woo her, and was in a more comfortable space to experience her feelings in the present moment — a pivot-point confirmed by their consensual kiss under a well-timed meteor shower in Central Park.

In Order To Finally Take That Bath…

At the end of this date, in a scene that intentionally mirrors that scene, minus the manhandling, Louie once again questions Pamela’s exit: “We’re having a romantic time”. But she claims their park-kiss was merely friendly. When Louie gives up and sulks off, Pamela is surprised; she expected the pursuit to continue. She feels an emotional connection to the man, but is unsure if she wants him physically — partly because she lives in a world where being drawn to an oaf like Louie is embarrassing. She wants to stay, but she doesn’t want to feel pressured into physical intimacy. She needs to remain in that comfortable space, one that’s not dictated by Louie’s ideals or expectations.

These are two flawed humans who feel a mutual bond, but are out of sync. They need to accept each other for who they are: Louie is insecure, and earnest, and schlubby; Pamela is provoking, and cynical, and guarded. Louie is not a rapist. Pamela is not mean-spirited. They’re never going to be each other’s dream partners, but they are an undeniable partnership with the potential for romance, or at least their version of it.

Maybe they have a future together, maybe they don’t, but the only way they’re every going to move forward is if Louie stops trying to force Pamela to do anything she can’t do, or be anyone she can’t be, and just lets things happen naturally.

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Bring On The Rewatch

This season of Louie has been about communication, and the internal and external forces that cloud our ability to connect with each other. It’s also spot-lit the female psyche, and the awful behaviour most women will have to endure at the hands of men at some point in their lives.

I’ve yet to skirt the surface of the eleven other episodes, but I have a feeling that with some hindsight, my opinions on this will evolve. What I can say is that C.K. and Adlon have displayed a great amount of courage by staring these issues square in the eye; it’s confronting to write about, but I’m glad there’s a showrunner out there forcing us into this space. The fanboy in me believes it’s for the greater good — and that Louie remains a vital, audacious, and undeniably unique televisual force with which to be reckoned.

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