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About I Love You, Daddy
This fun and charming picture book in which dads are given thanks and appreciation for all the fun and important things they do is sure to be a hit with your kids!
I Love You Daddy is written in rhyming text and is lovingly illustrated in vibrant color.
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“They’re going to have to start providing barf bags at the movies,” Iwrote in my notebook, five or so minutes into the press screening that Iattended, in October, of Louis C.K.’s film “I Love You, Daddy.” The image that elicited this thought was of the actress Chloë Grace Moretz, in avery small bikini, shot from above and behind, the camera practicallypanting down the back of her exposed neck. Moments later, she sauntersdown a flight of stairs and straight into Louis’s arms. “I love you,Daddy,” she coos, kissing him smack on his bald head. You could play adrinking game and take a shot every time Moretz speaks that phrase, butthat would likely result in alcohol poisoning, and also require you towatch the movie.
It now seems that few people will get that chance. “I Love You, Daddy,”which Louis wrote (from a story that he conceived with Vernon Chatman),directed, financed himself, and shot in secret, in June, was slated toopen on November 17th. On Friday morning, the movie was pulled by its distributor in the wake of the Times report, published the previous day, detailing Louis’s habit of compulsivelymasturbating in front of female comedians. On Friday afternoon, Louisacknowledged the truth of the claims against him. The timing is uncanny. The film, which centers on the sexualmachinations of powerful men, reeks of impunity. Like so many of Louis’sstandup jokes that purport to skewer the grossness of men, itcould only have been made by a person confident that he would never haveto answer for the repulsive things he’s long been rumored to have done, let alone be caught—if I may borrow a choice word from the recently disgraced Leon Wieseltier—in a major moment of public “reckoning.”
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Louis plays Glen Topher, a wealthy, divorced TV writer who lives in a luxuriousNew York penthouse. Moretz is China, his seventeen-year-old daughter andstill technically a high-school student, though she doesn’t spend muchtime in class. In that first drooling shot, she is freshly returned fromspring break in Florida. (Just in case his audience might have forgotten what abadass breaker of taboos he is, Louis uses China’s tan as a pretext todrop the N-word.) China has come to ask Glen for use of his shared jetso that she can go back to Florida to party some more, a request sheknows he can’t refuse. Nubile and almost criminally naïve, China knowshow to play her father like a fiddle. With the exception of IvankaTrump, I have never known a teen-age girl to spend so much time on herdaddy’s lap. Glen is more than happy to have her there, but he does tryevery so often to flex his atrophied parenting muscles. “Feminism isabout taking care of yourself and being independent and being on yourown,” he lectures China. “I think Gloria Steinem would tell you to get awaitressing job and read.”
Before China can take his advice, she is noticed by Leslie Goodwin (JohnMalkovich), a famous director in his late sixties whose taste for veryyoung women is as legendary as his movies. Leslie is rumored to have hadsex with a child, but, as Glen tells China—and as Louis told the Times in September, when asked about his own bad behavior—a rumor is only arumor. Leslie, who speaks in a guru’s murmur and dresses in ascots andcaftans, knows how to flatter and charm; he is skilled at grooming hisprey with lines like “It’s not just about your perfect body; it’s aboutyour humanity.” In one scene, Leslie runs into China at Barneys. Helikes to watch rich teen-age girls as they shop, he explains, and soonChina is in a dressing room, trying on outfit after outfit as Lesliedescribes the characters that he envisions her becoming with eachcostume change. She is his Galatea come to life, his blank canvas topaint, or to destroy, as he sees fit.
The only generous way to read “I Love You, Daddy” is as a portrait ofmale cowardice. What kind of man would be so shamefully pathetic as toavoid confronting the famous geezer who may or may not be screwing hisunderage daughter because that geezer has offered to read his latestscript? The same man, presumably, who winces but doesn’t intervene ashis dumbo comedian buddy (Charlie Day) describes, at gleeful length, allthe ways that the man’s daughter has probably been fucked on springbreak. As is often the case with the roles that Louis writes forhimself, there is a strong note of masochistic pleasure in this extremepassivity. Louis, famously obsessive and controlling of his work—hewrites, he directs, he edits, he acts, he produces, he distributes, hedoes it all—likes to play losers who are at the mercy of others. Often,those others are women. It’s hard not to wonder, in the wake ofThursday’s revelations, to what extent Louis has used this persona toshield his reputation. But cowardice is not just an avoidance of a moralstance; it is a moral stance, too, and not a flattering one. “Doesn’tsociety have to protect her?” Glen asks Grace Cullen (Rose Byrne), thebeautiful actress slated to star in his upcoming show, as they discussChina. “Society?” she responds. “You mean you?”
Grace is right to ask, but the point of the film is not toseriously interrogate the failings of Glen. The point is to ask ToughQuestions, to explore the dark place where morality tangles with humannature—which, for Louis’s intents and purposes here, is equivalent tomale desire. Leslie is a stand-in of sorts for Woody Allen, and themovie, which was shot (shoddily, it must be said) on black-and-white35-mm. film, is a pastiche of Allen’s “Manhattan” style. Must webelieve the terrible things we hear about artists we admire? Louis isasking. And, if we do believe them, must we do something about it?
As we now know, he’s not posing these questions in good faith. Halfwaythrough the film there is a debate, if it can be called that, betweenGlen and Grace. They have just slept together; in a postcoital lull,they argue about what may or may not be transpiring between Leslie andChina. Grace is unsympathetic to Glen’s concern. When she was ateen-ager, she tells him, she was in a relationship with a much olderman—Leslie himself, it seems. Is Glen now presuming to tell her that shewasn’t in control of her own sexuality? That her desires weren’t herown, and she didn’t know what she was doing? That she was raped? Howcondescending! How anti-feminist! It’s a point that’s genuinely worthdiscussing, but inept Glen can only sputter banalities in response.China is not like Grace, he points out: “She’s like a Disney princess onspeed! She knows nothing!”
That’s true enough. For “I Love You, Daddy” to work as a staging groundfor the points that Louis wants to make—that young women’s sexualattractiveness gives them power over the sorry men who lust after them;that, in spite of that power, young women are more likely than not to becareless and foolish, and to bring trouble and disgrace onthemselves—China has to be an empty vessel, an absolute airhead with nosense of self and no mind of her own. Her attraction to Leslie wouldn’tbe remotely plausible otherwise; she would see him for what heis—ridiculous—and laugh him out of the room. In the end, it is China whomakes herself absurd. She is the one who throws herself at Leslie, notthe other way around, and so it is she who ends up rejected andhumiliated. Leslie glides away in his Moroccan slippers with hisintegrity intact. He is St. Anthony warding off the devil; the youngtemptress is discarded, and the important artist can at last get back tohis work. (Between Javier Bardem in “Mother!” and Malkovich here, thisyear’s Oscar for Best Actor Scribbling Fatuously in a Notebook is goingto be a toss-up, though at least Malkovich plays the asinine artisticSvengali with wit.) What does Leslie do now that he is freed from femaledistraction? He makes an Emmy-winning TV show, of course.
As for China, her redemption comes in the form of a job at the perfumecounter of Bloomingdale’s and a shared apartment in Harlem: she hasdecided to take Daddy’s counsel and go get her independence. There issomething depressingly subdued about her, in the film’s last scene, adeadened quality that is supposed to pass for maturity. Such is thefilm’s final point where women are concerned: stop flirting and moochingand get to work, because, if you don’t have to depend on men for money,they can’t control you, or harm you, or fuck you over. But, of course,they can, and do, in life as in “I Love You, Daddy.” The women inLouis’s film come in three flavors: the Shrew (Helen Hunt, her mouthpursed into a furious line, as Glen’s bitter ex-wife); the Seductress(Grace, with China in training); and, saddest of all, the Supporter(Edie Falco, as Glen’s long-suffering producer, and Pamela Adlon, asGlen’s tough-talking ex, a supporter in denial). “Sorry, women,” Glensays, at one point, abstractly addressing all of them at once, thebetter to avoid something that could be construed as a real apology.
China’s fate echoes an intention that Louis has often expressedregarding his own daughters: to cure them of the spoiled upbringing hehas given them by refusing them any money when they come of age. Hewants them to work for a living, just like he has. Like so many Fathersof Daughters, I guess, he’s counting on them not running into dudes likehim on the job.
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Sometimes the culture provides the cure for its own ills. In this case,the antidote to “I Love You, Daddy” is Greta Gerwig’s “Lady Bird,” amovie about teen-age girls that is actually interested in them aspeople. The rapturous praise that Gerwig’s movie has been getting speaksto the hunger that so many of us have for depictions of young women asbeings with brains as well as bodies. Like China, Lady Bird, played bythe fabulous Saoirse Ronan, is a high-school senior bored in class andready to be out in the world. She is smart, funny, and bold; she speaksher mind, pursues sex and friendship, makes mistakes, embarrassesherself, gets hurt, hurts others, and tries her best to set things rightagain. I’d like to imagine a situation in which China and Lady Birdcross paths in New York, though I’m not sure I’d wish that on Lady Bird.On the other hand, China has some sense in her yet. “Daddy, this movieis about fucking men,” she tells Glen as they watch a female revengefantasy on TV together. “They’ve fucked us for long enough. Now it’stime to fuck them.” Louis wrote that line. No one should be lesssurprised by his fate than him.