Louie Anderson took a call last spring from a fellow comedian. The guy on the other end opened with, “Louie? This is Louie.”
“Weird that a Louie gets a call from a Louie,” says Anderson, most commonly known as simply “Louie.” The Louie making the call spells his name “Louis” and was, in fact, Louis C.K. And Louis C.K. had a proposal for Anderson. “I’m producing a TV show with Zach Galifianakis, and he wants you to play a part,” Louis C.K. said. “Yeah?” Anderson answered.
“… and you’ll be playing Zach’s mother,” Louis C.K. continued. “Yeah!” Anderson answered.
And so it is that Zach, Louie and Louis are teaming for the new series Baskets, premiering Thursday night on FX. Galifianakis, who co-produces the show with Louis C.K., plays Chip Baskets, an aspiring clown raised in California who trained in Paris. Chip is having trouble finding work, surprisingly enough, and takes a job as a rodeo clown (or bullfighter, for those initiated in the sport).
Chip is also a twin, and his flamboyant brother, Dale, is the apple of his mother’s eye. Mom is Anderson, who, by sheer coincidence, is booked to play South Point Showroom Friday and Saturday night during Baskets’ debut week. A 10-year resident of Henderson and recurring Vegas headliner, Anderson simply fell into the role of Christine Baskets. It was not for his looks, or any stage adaptation he’s performed as a woman. It was his voice that won him the role. “Zach was telling Louis what he wanted out of this role, and he was saying, ‘It’s a voice, a particular voice, and I’ll know it when I hear it.’ And Louis C.K. said, ‘You mean, like Louie Anderson?’ And Zach said, ‘That’s it! Get him!’”
Anderson has actually portrayed a mother—his own—onstage throughout his 37-year career as a stand-up. “I’ve never worn a costume or anything, but I talk about my mom, as my mom, during my act. I’ll say, ‘My mom’s first words were, “Can we please get some extra butter?” We loved butter. And she was a garage-sale person and would say, ‘This looks like a good sale. Pull over.’ And I’d say, ‘Mom, you sure? And leave the funeral procession?’”
Anderson grew up with five sisters and remembers his siblings as “very loving, and I had a great mom, so what I do onstage is an homage to them.” But Christine Baskets is “much meaner than my mom, for sure.”
The TV show might well increase ticket sales for Anderson’s stage show, a facet of the business he’s barely interested in today. “You might see a bump in the stand-up show, especially as the episodes go on and it becomes a hit,” Anderson says. “But, you know, when you’ve been a stand-up for 37 years, you quit asking how many people are in the showroom. You can only be disappointed. If it’s sold out, you ask, ‘Why wasn’t it sold out earlier?’ If there are 100 people in the room, why aren’t there 200? It’s a slippery slope when you get involved with how many people are there.”
Anderson moved to Las Vegas while booked at the Excalibur, a show dubbed Larger Than Life, which was promoted by a giant plastic statue of Anderson that bore an unsettling resemblance to Bob’s Big Boy. In 2010, he moved to Palace Station in a theater named for him for Louie LOL and spent about three years there before relocating to the showroom at the Plaza. That run lasted a little more than a year and closed in March, with Anderson admittedly fed up with a sit-down residency.
“One day I said, ‘I’m done doing a regular gig,’” says Anderson, who learned what every headliner who attempts a residency on Fremont Street knows: It’s tough to sell tickets Downtown. “I was just done. I hate to say it any other way, but I’m not doing it anymore.”
The 62-year-old Anderson still draws inspiration from his contemporaries, and also those who were superstars in his early years as a comic. “I just adore stand-up,” he says. “Johnny Carson, I loved him. Loved his show. Rodney Dangerfield worked as long as he could. Henny Youngman, Milton Berle, same thing. Look at Don Rickles, still doing it when he could be doing anything else. These are incredible men whose comedy transcends age and time.”
Just last week, Anderson caught Louis C.K. at the Comedy Store in LA. “I was absolutely inspired,” he said. “You ever see somebody do something, or read something, and think, ‘I need to get back to work?’ That’s what it was like watching Louis. I was totally inspired.”
And it’s that same comic who has helped regenerate Anderson’s spirit. As they say in comedy, timing is everything.
Louie Anderson January 22 & 23, 7:30 p.m., $15-$25. South Point Showroom, 702-796-7111.
