By Edward Kelly
Intimate is not usually a word used when describing late night talk shows. Generally, a better track to take is to simply focus on the host’s ability to crack a few jokes, ensure that they’re relatively amiable, and that they interview a hopefully engaging guest. But if it were that easy then everyone would be able to do it.
On Monday night, Conan O’Brien returned to the airwaves on the cable network TBS. His new show, aptly titled Conan, marks what will hopefully be the denouement of The Late Night Debacle. To refresh: O’Brien took over The Tonight Show in June of 2009. After only seven months at the helm, NBC decided that maintaining a cool head in the face of trying times was a really dumb idea. Instead they seemed to think that panicking, airing private grievances in the most public of forums, and spending Brinks truck’s full of cash would be a much better way of doing business. It was like the National Broadcasting Company decided that nothing says “profits” to shareholders like the execs reenacting plots from Degrassi Junior High. You know what came next: O’Brien was ousted and offered his too-late slot back, and Leno was reinstalled in his old post-news position.
Instead of disappearing quietly back to the graveyard shift, O’Brien did what he does best: went right on being Conan O’Brien. He hit the road with his Legally Prohibited From Being Funny On Television Tour and signed up for a Twitter account. Then came the deal with TBS. Now, with the agreed waiting period required by NBC at an end, the new cable show is up and running.
Obviously, there’s a lot of expectation on O’Brien to perform. After all, the main criticism NBC lobbied at him was that, under his tutelage, The Tonight Show’s ratings had sunk to an unprofitable level (though O’Brien refuted this on 60 Minutes). So, how did he do on his “second annual” first show? Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say it was the greatest television moment since the invention of those glass tubes that allow diodes or cathodes or whatever to somehow transmit atoms and stuff, thus making TV possible. (I do not know science.)
Look, obviously, O’Brien did a great job. He’s been doing the hosting thing for 17 years; he’s a skilled comedian, a whip-smart interviewer, and can work a crowd like no one’s business. The show was hilarious, full of O’Brien’s trademark absurdist wit and loads of charming self-deprecation. Was it the greatest thing on TV ever? No. But it was great to have him back.
See, I have an overblown appreciation for O’Brien. Part of it lies in simple nostalgia. I have many a fond memory of half-studying while sitting too close to the TV so I could watch Late Night without waking my parents. His is the kind of manic, intelligent, silly humor that should never have been on a network, but, remarkably, survived and thrived. Classic bits like the Walker, Texas Ranger Lever and his State of the Show Address and utterly silly moments like Vomiting Kermit and The Interruptor made the whole affair feel like you were part of the world’s most insane inside joke. With O’Brien as the red-coifed ringmaster, you were suddenly part of an awesome alternate universe in which bears masturbated, horny manatees had websites, and you couldn’t get any further into the future than the year 2000.
I think that’s what I loved so much about last night premiere; you sensed that ensconced in a slot that carries less weight and pressure again, O’Brien felt like he was back to being O’Brien (also the masturbating bear showed up and, in all honesty, I think I squeed). He seemed more relaxed and more comfortable, and the whole thing felt very intimate.
Having endured more Network BS and public humiliation than perhaps any talk show host in the history of TV, and after his enforced post-prime time TV absence – all of which elevated him to folk hero status – Conan is now a changed man. And that’s not a bad thing. He’s come out the other side with a beard and sense of melancholy. During the monologue of the premier edition of new show, O’Brien slipped into his stereotypical “nerd” character — the nasally Poindexter whose invisible glasses keep slipping down his nose and insists on correcting you — and he quickly had to course correct when he realized that he was pantomiming texting (or tweeting, more accurately). With a smile and a laugh he noted how he wouldn’t be back if it weren’t for the internet and the “I’m With Coco” community — the very “nerds” he was mocking. It’s the type of shifted perspective that makes O’Brien all the more endearing.
O’Brien is a niche comedian who is passionately invested in his craft, so it stands to reason that he gravitates to the bizarre factions of humanity — the folks that invest an absurd amount of time in a hobby that most consider weird. When he hits the streets, it isn’t to talk to tourists on the Sunset Strip: it’s to hang out with Olde Time Baseball Players or send a correspondent to the world’s weakest Stargate convention. And it was that type of kinship and familiarity that felt largely absent from The Tonight Show. Such intimacy returned in full force last night when Conan hugged audience members (becoming more and more creepy with each hug motion) and riffed with his old buddy/sidekick Andy Richter about the inherent weirdness of “Asian Val Kilmer” Halloween masks.
The ringmaster has returned and it’s good to be at the circus again.
