The censorship of this brilliant film is scandalous, and indicative of the ‘dark ages’ approaching (with increasing speed). What has happened to Louie C.K. is appalling, and the disappearance of such a significant and major work in the modern fashion -- i.e. due to ‘ad hominem’ accusations against the artist -- is a sign that art, as we know it, is seeing it’s final eclipse. I grew up in what I now see as a Golden Age of American Art. As a young queer American boyette I was exposed to Who’s Afraid of Viriginia Woolf? and the plays of Tennessee Wiliams, from an early age, and I came to define drama as what my friend David calls ‘four people being rude in a. room.’ This is what theatre has been since Greek tragedy and what it should be forever. The implication of my friend’s definition of theatre are these: you might not enjoy the play or movie you are going to see -- or the book you are going to read -- in the sense that it may not give you the endless, thoughtless pleasure that let’s say reading a 'Harry Potter’ book for the 10th time, might. The book, or play or movie might feature characters that you find repulsive, doing things you find disgusting, frightening or even horrific (and I don’t mean scary like some dumb horror movie, I mean horrific like for instance: Medea). But that is the job of art, to present us with stories that are simply terrifying as well as just terrifyingly pretty. I Love You, Daddy was set to be released in November 2017 and premiered at The Toronto International Film Festival just before that (something we here in Toronto should be very proud of) and was consequently censored — without the benefit of government intervention, and without the possible saving grace of public outcry. No one had to ban it (that’s just the way we destroy art nowadays — it’s quick and easy and unannounced) it was simply never released. All this happened because Louie C.K. was accused — by three women — of exposing himself to them, in each case after having asked their permission to do so, and being given that permission (one of the ‘exposures’ happened over the telephone). I am not trying to minimize Louie C.K.’s misconduct —and Louie C. K has not tried to do so either — but that is not the point here. The point here is that artists have the right to be bastards, bastardettes (or for that matter, bastards with unfamiliar pronouns) because they are by nature at least as screwed up as so-called normal people (where do you think all that art comes from?). And what they do in their private lives should not be held against their work, period. If we started to analyze the personal lives and crazy political views of all the artists we loved — and if we decided to ban the work of those artists whose lives and attitudes we now consider repellant (which is something that, unfortunately, is happening as we speak) there would be no more art. This is a dire situation. But no one cares because it’s easier to just continue reading Harry Potter alone in our pink and fancy bedrooms, eating chocolate, and getting fat on the limitations of our dull inadequacy of invention. (Though of course J.K. Rowling is being given a hard time too. Perhaps any sort of fantasy is just toxic — perhaps we should stay away from the human imagination, itself?) I saw I Love You, Daddy last night after 5 years of waiting to see it. I’m technologically incompetent enough (yes, I am old) that I couldn’t figure out how to download it without my computer yelling at me that my QuickTime required Viagra. To say the film is brilliant would be an understatement. I Love You, Daddy had me in its grasp, in full blown intellectual and emotional rapture from beginning to end. Let’s be clear about what Louie C.K. has done here. He has made a sex positive film in which he de-mystifies sex, and most importantly (and I think this is why the film has been banned) he has made a feminist a film that clearly emboldens women who desire, who are sexual, and who initiate their own sexual pleasures. It is a film which also respects women's sexual privacy and independence of thought. (I Love You, Daddy uses the term 'pervert' to describe anyone who openly desires.) I Love You, Daddy is actually a fictional biography of Woody Allen in later life; apparently Louie C.K. has worked with Allen and actually offered Allen the part of himself (i.e. the part of an aging accused pedophile filmmaker) (he has balls, this Louie C.K.! ). Allen refused (obviously) — however John Malkovich is amazing in the role. This film also contains masterful performances by the incomparable Edie Falco (in a gorgeous unremitting rage here) and Pamela Adlon (Adlon is a long-time feminist artist and collaborator of Louie C.K.). It’s a shame that actors Chloe Grace Moritz and Rose Byrne have decided to jump on the trendy bandwagon and condemn this film. One can forgive Moritz I suppose, because as a onetime child star and graduate of Disney films she felt it necessary to protect her franchise (it’s all about money). But, interestingly Adlon and Falco have not condemned the film. I must also mention Charlie Day, who I will not forget faux-masturbating on a couch every time Rose Byrne telephones (in two hilarious scenes). We will be patting ourselves on the back for a long time for the momentous cancelling of our imaginations that the banning of this film represents. But there is nothing that can be done; as in 476 A D we are descending into the dark, and only now and then will a few people be able to write or read anything of value. And god forbid if we yearn to see real human life, as it is lived, uncensored and in all it’s glorious emotional gore; this is no longer allowed.
