What do we lose when Louis C.K. gets back in business?

Does his new Netflix special and high-profile concert appearance signal Hollywood has turned its back on the #metoo movement it once championed?

This was a day I knew was coming. Still, it hurt when it got here.

Netflix announced its new alliance with disgraced comedian Louis C.K. in a splashy press release Thursday, touting a new comedy special which would air on its service and a headlining spot in its Netflix Is a Joke Festival.

But this was more than just another overpaid comic cashing in a check for millions from the industry’s biggest streamer. It was the final ascension in Louis C.K.’s long climb out of showbusiness purgatory, after admitting the truth of a 2017 New York Times story describing a particularly creepy form of sexual misconduct where he masturbated in front of female colleagues or asked to do so.

This Netflix gig was a long time coming. The fallout for Louis C.K. in the immediate aftermath of the NYTimes story was extensive and swift: He lost his TV deal with FX networks and saw his signature series with them, Louie, scrubbed from their platforms. He was removed as an executive producer on shows like Tig Notaro’s One Mississippi and Pamela Adlon’s Better Things and his film, I Love You, Daddy was also shelved. The comic claimed onstage it all cost him at least $35 million.

But a year later, Louis C.K. returned to standup comedy, promoting the shows and selling tickets directly to fans through his own online platforms. Over time, he went on friendly podcasts to talk about his side of what happened, buoyed by bro-friendly hosts who loved his comedy and seemed eager to downplay the awfulness of what he actually did.

Even high-profile female performers like Sarah Silverman said they felt conflicted about the scandal. But I never saw a situation where Louis C.K. sat down with a more objective, independent interviewer to talk over what happened. I also never saw or heard about him doing anything to help, elevate or make up for the way he traumatized less well-known women in his orbit, who were still struggling to make their way in comedy after speaking up about his awful actions toward them.

To hear more of their side, check out the 2024 film Sorry/Not Sorry, which features the stories of three women — Jen Kirkman, Abby Schachner and Megan Koester — who spoke up about how Louis C.K. treated them and how they continued to struggle in showbusiness as the man who harassed them methodically rebuilt his career.

Click here to read my review of the film for NPR, where I note their details of the harassment: “In one of several disturbing encounters, [Jen] Kirkman talks about Louis C.K. giving her a car ride and pointing out places where he had masturbated or had sex. Later, she describes feeling abandoned by the industry: “It just seems like nobody cares.”

[Abby] Schachner says she is certain he was pleasuring himself while they had a conversation she thought was going to be about her career. “He didn’t ask – he just started doing it,” Schachner says of her encounter. “I felt duped.”

Some people have suggested that it’s difficult to know how to handle someone like Louis C.K., who is still relatively young and capable of creating a lot more projects. He’s been away from most mainstream entertainment for years, they might say – isn’t that enough?

For me, it’s much less about how long they’ve been gone than what they have done to earn their way back into mainstream showbusiness – besides proving how much money they can make someone.

Has he fully admitted how he’s harassed women in the past? Did he apologize directly and publicly to them? Has he helped any of the women who spoke honestly about what he did and saw their careers atomized afterwards?

Jen Kirkman in the film Sorry/Not Sorry.

Hollywood prefers to avoid the kinds of admissions which can bring lawsuits and morals clauses. Instead, the big business of entertainment would much prefer a situation where a star stays underground until the social blowback has passed, emerging with a tale of redemption and renewal just in time to sell tickets, streams, memberships and more.

Already, Louis C.K. won a Grammy for best comedy album in 2022. And it’s a sure bet he’ll be a contender when his new Netflix special gets released as an album.

What many people fail to understand, is that getting the public to demand more from powerful stars is often the only option left to survivors of abusive behavior who lack power themselves. Louis C.K. didn’t inflict himself on women who were famous, like Harvey Weinstein, so their most potent weapon in trying to stop his behavior was to make it so public that all the institutions in show business which were enabling him would find it too toxic to continue doing so.

Anyone railing against the so-called “political correctness” of shunning Louis C.K. misses a simple point. If the industry had a better way of confronting abusive stars and stopping their behavior, none of that shunning would have been necessary.

But by turning a blind eye to all the rumors about him, all these gatekeepers created a situation where women harassed by him had to speak out publicly and loudly just to force the industry to handle it.

And now that Netflix has welcomed him back to the fold, what will it take to stop the next Louis C.K.?

Just a few days ago, I delivered a lecture to my entertainment journalism students, showing how reporting on excesses by media stars like Weinstein, Bill O’Reilly and Bill Cosby fueled the #metoo movement and amped up the appetite for substantive, incisive journalism about leading figures in the entertainment industry who were acting terribly.

Unfortunately, there seem to be too many in showbusiness who miss the bad old days when fame, popularity and marketability forgave a multitude of sins.

Now we’re left to wonder who will be trying to claw their way back into the limelight next? O’Reilly? Matt Lauer? Charlie Rose?

And what will we lose, if the potency of the #metoo movement and its revelations are shrugged off, in a fit of backlash and discomfort?