When Louis met Louis…
January 27, 2010
Louis Theroux: all limbs and glasses – a speccy orang-utan swinging through the alleyways of American culture. The late 1990s in his Gonzo pomp; fraternising with a gaggle of swingers, evangelists and neo-Nazis – subtly exposing the soiled cod piece of Middle America. Next stop the faded prom lights of Blackpool; sketching furtive portraits of showbiz casualties – Paul Daniels, Keith Harris, Jimmy Savile – brilliant award-winning voyeurism. Then whhhhoooosssshh…a deafening void of nothing for years. Before tip toeing back onto our screens with a handful of prosaic, “grown-up” documentaries, buried deep in BBC2’s autumn schedule – hardly the clarion call of a man on the comeback trail.
So following this television hiatus and an unconvincing return as a “serious” journo, where does Louis Theroux go from here?
Since Louis’ heyday, in the late 90s, the media and political landscape has changed dramatically. Now every polemic, red neck and religious zealot has their own private TV station: YouTube – a digital soapbox from which any garrulous amoeba can broadcast tripe. Societies casualties no longer need the middleman (Theroux) to funnel their lunacy onto the small screen. They have a bigger, unedited canvas that can be viewed by millions free of charge. Unfortunately technology has leap-frogged Theroux, and consigned his Freudian freak show to a dusty trunk in the attic of “Cool Britannia”.
Politically, the banking collapse and 9/11 has cast a dark shadow over the prairies of the Midwest. Since Louis’ last visit, the dust bowl has become dustier and the cattle leaner. America is no longer enjoying an economic and ideological bubble bath. Confidence and ledger shattered, Obama is bravely administering CPR on an ailing super power. Suddenly the antics of an Oxford graduate cavorting with a mud wrestler appear frivolous, and incongruous with the mood of a nation. There are grander more pertinent issues to tackle, and Louis knows it:
“I’m [Theroux] 35 years old, I’ve got a baby, I’ve got a house. When I started doing this I was 23, working for Michael Moore. I’m a different person from what I was. I’ve got different priorities. I need to keep myself interested, trying to take subjects that are a tiny bit more mature.“
The problem is he’s no Michael Moore, or even Nick Broomfield. He’s too emm… sensitive. In his recent crime specials, he tried to be intrepid and gutsy. But it had no verisimilitude – a bit like Ronnie Corbett playing Beowulf at the Old Vic. In Law and Disorder in Philadelphia he was cowering in a bulletproof bodice, visibly shaken by ghetto violence, lacking the sangfroid to pry any gold dust from Philly’s hoodlums. Louis is too humane to detach himself from the bloody syringes and spent cartridges that litter America’s slums. But you can’t fault him for being artistically cavalier and trying to reinvent himself as a frontline journalist.
So where does he go from here? Theroux’s forte is in-depth character studies. He excels when he uses his Freudian scalpel, some might say insidiously, to dissect the brain of life’s curve balls (another reason why his recent documentaries faltered is that they were choked with extras; his earlier films preyed on one or two unsuspecting lab rats). Unfortunately, after the success of “When Louis Met…” celebs got wise to his mischievous charms, and are now reluctant to be shackled in the village stocks for an hour. Perhaps an intellectual chat show or an arts program on BBC2 might warrant an artistic resurrection. But then again, Auntie’s bloomers are tattered right now, and the seamstress General is skint.
Recently, the faint throbbing of jungle drums have been heard over Shepherd’s Bush; the air ripe with tales of a Heather Mill’s documentary. It’s the kind of high profile shupazz that could hurl Theroux back into the limelight. But does he want that? His 2010 book is titled “May Contain Traces of Nuts: A Year in the Life of a Minor TV Celebrity”. We get the feeling he’s weary of being part of the story, and is fumbling around in the artistic gloom searching for a sign post marked “Louis Theroux 2010 ->”.
Louis is intelligent and creative; he will find a way round this career roadblock. In February 2009, he signed a contract to produce another 10 documentaries for the BBC. Let’s hope his next batch of programs is as intriguing and amusing as his initial folly into the world of porn stars, UFO spotters and black supremacists. Louis, please march into new creative territory; but play to you’re strengths – because you’re no John Simpson.
