'Horace and Pete': Louis C.K.'s Shock of the Old

The shock of the new is what makes TV milestones - "I Love Lucy," "All in the Family," "Roots," "Seinfeld," "The Sopranos," "Mad Men," "Breaking Bad," and "Girls" are series that each in their own way added something unexpected to the medium. But what of the show that embraces the shock of the old? Can it succeed in today's crowded, hyperventilated market?

The web series "Horace and Pete" does. At first what's so bracing about Louis C.K.'s ten-episode drama is that it looks like something from 60 years ago, when television was in its first golden age. Back then, dramas were talky, sets were functional and the technical aspects rudimentary; it was the actors and writers who ruled.

Such is the case with Louis C.K.'s revelatory web series, which snuck into the public conversation with a surprise release (a la Beyonce's 2013 game-changing LP) in late January, then unrolled on a weekly basis with episodes of differing lengths bought on Louis C.K.'s website at prices ranging from $3 - $5. To purchase the entire series costs a total of $31.

Louis C.K., who wrote, directed and starred in each episode, explained his reasoning behind releasing the show in this manner on his web site.

"Part of the idea behind launching it on the site was to create a show in a new way and to provide it to you directly and immediately, without the usual promotion, banner ads, billboards and clips that tell you what the show feels and looks like before you get to see it for yourself," he said.

He also funded "Horace and Pete" by himself, assembling a cast any HBO show would envy, even bringing Paul Simon onboard to write its theme - a melody that matched the show's rueful tone. "Sometimes I wonder why do we tear ourselves to pieces / I just need some time to think / Or maybe I just need a drink / At Horace & Pete's," reads Simon's lyric.

Not surprisingly a show that looks and sounds like something out of a time capsule divided critics.

"I didn't enjoy 'Horace and Pete,'" wrote one from the British newspaper The Observer. "I understand some did. More than anything, however, I get the feeling Mr. C.K. doesn't give a fuck either way."

As one taken with Louis C.K.'s experiment, I was thrilled that the show felt more like a filmed play than a TV series. Some have compared the show to "Cheers" as conceived by Eugene O'Neill, which isn't a bad comparison. The 10-episode arc has the feel of an O'Neill saga as the ghosts of the past haunt the present, crippling them from moving forward in their lives.

The conceit of the show is that there's always been a Horace and Pete running the bar since it was established in 1916. The current Horace (Louis C.K.) and Pete (Steve Buscemi) are its fourth band of brothers to run the place, though all is not well. Sylvia (Edie Falco), their older sister, wants to sell the bar to take advantage of its prime location. Recently diagnosed with cancer, she wants to use her share to pay for her treatment, but Horace, Pete and Uncle Pete (a brilliantly cast-against-type Alan Alda) are adamant that the bar stay open, though an outsider would likely wonder why: The bar barely breaks even, makes no concessions to the evolving community it resides in; indeed, much of the time Uncle Pete - the personification of the bar's dark soul - derides every Millennial that enters the place nearly to the point of violence. It has regulars, largely those who like to drink and hang at the bar. For them, happy hour goes all day.

The bar chatter is often funny, pointedly relevant (with talk of the Presidential race) or just nasty - the racial and sexual epithets flow as freely as the Budweiser. Uncle Pete is the most egregious offender, insulting bar patrons and family alike. It is often funny in an uncomfortable way, leaving you to wonder why there isn't a sign over the bar that says "Political Correctness Not Welcome Here." You want diversity? You want nice? Go to the hipster bar across the street.

"Horace and Pete" is about how morally bankrupt the patriarchal tradition is, but what distinguishes the current Horace and Pete from their predecessors is their ambivalence about this tradition - Horace has no passion for working in the bar and carrying on the tradition. (And he can't -- his son, though named Horace, wants nothing to do with him or the bar.) He has pretty much sleepwalked through his life, accepting his role in the family business because he was expected to. He is divorced with two children: One a struggling law student Alice (Aidy Bryant) with whom he was a tenuous relationship, the other a son with whom he has no contact. His ex-wife makes an appearance in a spectacular turn by Laurie Metcalf in the third episode, but she's hardly germane to the plot, which centers on how Horace and Pete deal with Sylvia's attempt to sell the bar.

Each brother has his own issue: Pete suffers from a crippling mental illness that can spin out of control at any moment if he's not on his medication. In the first episode, an insurance glitch leaves him without meds and dealing with his demons. Horace sees himself as the family mediator, attempting compromise with Sylvia, supporting Pete, reaching out to the estranged Alice, but with little satisfaction. He also can be cruel: In the first episode he callously throws his girlfriend, the ditzy Rachel (Rebecca Hall), out of his apartment, seemingly on a whim. In a later episode he destroys Pete's growing romance with Jenny (Hannah Dunne), a young woman he met online, by telling her of Pete's debilitating condition.

The series often feels disjointed, jarring in the way it moves from the darkly comic to the just dark. Some scenes abut, rather than flow, with each other. (A second viewing, though, may be in order to see how organic the writing actually may be.) It also pulls no punches in debunking the traditions that have been nurtured there: The Horaces and Petes of the past were abusive macho dicks.

"How many wives have been beaten up here?" asks an angry Sylvia at one point. And the racism, sexism, homophobia - you name it - that is expressed so often with bluster and laughs appears to be ingrained in these characters' DNA.

With richly drawn characters and bristling dialogue, it's easy to understand how Louis C.K. was able to assemble a cast worthy of a Broadway blockbuster. In addition to Louis C.K., Buscemi, Alda, Falco and Bryant, there's Jessica Lange as the alcoholic ex-mistress of the previous Horace (the current Horace's dad); Nina Arianda as a former barmaid of fuck buddy of Horace; and Kurt Metzger, Tom Noonan, Steven Wright as the various barflies.

There were also some fresh faces: Maria Dizzia, who plays a sweet woman Pete met while institutionalized who has Tourette syndrome; Karen Pittman as a woman Horace picks up at the bar who challenges his notion of gender identity; and Hannah Dunne, Pete's internet romantic interest who becomes the victim of the siblings' cruel tough love.

In the show's final, excruciating act, Amy Sedaris makes an appearance as a woman seeking a job as a bartender at the bar. It's a scene that Louis C.K. says that Sedaris pretty much improvised on the spot, and it's breathtaking in the way her acting commands the scene and changes the mood, bringing Horace out of the grief he was experiencing. It turns out to be the calm before the storm, but in her hilarious, often bizarre monologue Sedaris crystalized what "Horace and Pete" does so extraordinarily well - create moments so real that you get swept up in them.

There were other moments equally as riveting throughout the ten episodes: Kurt Metzger's hilarious description of Sodom and Gomorrah, Nina Arianda's bittersweet story of her short-lived marriage, Laurie Metcalf's mesmerizing account of her affair with her elderly father-in-law and Karen Pittman's deadpan challenge to Horace about what defines a woman. These moments resonate in a series that pushes the boundaries of how we watch TV, both in its unique distribution model and its old school style. What may be the testament to Louis C.K.'s unique experiment is that since its devastating finale was released last Saturday, there has been nothing but extraordinary praise for the breadth and power of the series. It is the kind of experience you want to share and discuss. It's hard to believe that it's over.

To watch "Horace and Pete," visit Louis C.K.'s website.