The New King of Late Night
“The Late Show” has managed to flourish where its peers have faltered. Smart, funny and hopeful — and with it, Stephen Colbert has come to the rescue for post-Trump America.
Stephen Colbert’s 2015 move from comedy central hooligan to the replacement for David Letterman’s highly touted primetime spot came as a surprise for many. Did he have crossover ability? Could he hold his own on the behemoth Ed Sullivan stage? How would he do, having to shed a character that many credited with his success?
To be fair, nobody knew. And as a result, CBS’s gamble on ‘The Second City’s’ favourite son would start out rocky — directionless even.
Luckily for Colbert, his start also signaled a changing of the guard for late night TV. Leaving the perfect opportunity for him to step into the spot left for him in the wake of departures from late night royalty like David Letterman, Jay Leno, Craig Ferguson and mentor, Jon Stewart. A period of transition made easier as well by the almost simultaneous emergences of South African upstart Trevor Noah, Brit James Corden, and fellow Daily Show alums Samantha Bee and Larry Wilmore.
And with that, CBS began to fear the possibility that their flagship late night show, and its host, could get lost somewhere in the fray. Especially with Jimmy Fallon leading NBC’s flagship title, The Tonight Show to the top of the ratings every week without fail.
One thing had become clear: the faces of late night were about to change, drastically.
As for The Late Show’s early days, almost everything about it served as unconventional; from its format, to content, to presentation, to characters and tone. The monologues seemed awkwardly placed and over-rehearsed, and Colbert regularly appeared almost diminutive on the menacing Ed Sullivan theatre stage — swallowed whole, in a playground that Letterman had thrived.
His shortcomings were glaring, and his cable-friendly quirk seemed to falter in the bright lights of primetime. The blending of his occasionally off-colour comedy central style, with a spot now on one of TV’s most coveted slots, proved difficult for viewers to grasp. A disconnect that grew indisputable as the program’s early and lacklustre numbers began to come in.
But in hindsight, Colbert’s early issue-riddled days may have helped. Viewers got to see him figure himself out and work out the kinks, watching him as he eventually settled into his own. Making it so if the show’d ever manage to become successful — viewers that stuck around would be endeared forever.
And just as Fallon and NBC’s vaunted vice grip on late night seemed almost eternal, and Colbert, *seemed* another storied example in the tradition of primetime failure: something funny happened. Donald Trump won the American Presidential election.
And with that, one thing would become clear — Colbert struck gold.
The election of Donald Trump was Stephen Colbert’s “come to Jesus moment.” It helped him make his first run at the ratings since the show’s start, and offered him his first real shot at dethroning late night’s then undisputed frontrunner.
As The Late Show’s success would become clearer, they’d begin to present themselves in clear opposition to their competitors, namely NBC’s The Tonight Show — with Colbert’s unique brand of intellectualism and comedy proving itself exactly what Americans were looking for at a time of such contention.
Colbert was a gumbo of all the now former faces of late night: the political savy of Stewart, the pointedly conversational tone of Letterman, the offhandedness of Ferguson, and resounding timing of Leno. It just worked.
And with The Late Show’s newfound success, Jimmy Fallon’s resoundingly silly brand of comedy was no longer boding as well as it once had. His perceived softball questions, the goofy head banging laugh, the backyard-style games — none of it. Nothing was funny about what was happening to the country, and the Tonight Show’s now tired format failed to adapt to this change in the collective American psyche.
Everything that’d once made Fallon America’s charming ‘dad next door’, now made him the weak example of a dying liberal America. No substance, no backbone, and a failure to connect.
Jimmy Fallon’s Trump moment especially worked to expose this same chink in his once perfect armour. Fallon joked with then nominee Trump, treating him as he did every other — roaringly laughing with a man many saw to pose an existential threat to Western democracy itself. Even going so far as to ruffle his hair, in what would prove his most costly moment ratings-wise in his time as host of the Tonight Show.
The moment played bad with viewers. Like, really, really bad. He was seen as cozying up with Donald Trump at a moment where people wanted to see Trump challenged; normalizing a man that was anything but, and only adding to Trump’s then growingly commercial allure. And the almost immediate downward trend in the show’s ratings were a reflection of this.
With a single interview, Fallon had decided to protect the commercial appeal of his program, over even the smallest possibility of polarizing a small segment of his base. Ironically, the fallout from that decision would become far more damaging than its alternative.
Furthermore, for Fallon, things had grown increasingly challenging, and his once model Tonight Show seemed to be running its course. The wow factor, or “virality”, of the once preeminent program was all but gone — and Fallon was officially getting less and less of the moments that his show had once so dearly depended.
His space in the market had officially become homogenized. In a world of Carpool Karaoke’s, Mean Tweets, and Clueless Gamers, Fallon’s vice grip on the internet had lessened, substantially. A corner in the market he’d once stood alone, had all of a sudden become prime real estate for all of late night. With Facebook, Youtube, and Twitter ripe with clips from a variety of the previous night’s shows. Not just his.
While Fallon was focused on old reliable, Colbert and his team were focused on their new formula — one that still looked to foster viral moments, but didn’t look to them as a saving grace. They made an effort to look for more than just a single Hail Mary moment.
And with a now defined difference between the two, Stephen Colbert had officially presented himself as an all-too-willing “anti-Fallon”. Everything about one seemed to work in contradiction to the other — a difference only exaggerated by Colbert’s post-election surge.
The Late Show, and Colbert as its face, now stepped into America’s collective living room as the country’s leading late night voice. Bolstered by a fortuitous misstep from a once late night juggernaut, Stephen Colbert would begin to step into his potential — the same potential that’d been so widely debated just a year prior.
The show had finally found its once fleeted footing. And in the months and weeks that would follow Trump’s election, everything began to work.
Even The Late Show’s bandleader, Jon Batiste, a once unknown New Orleanian Jazz savant, and member of one of America’s foremost jazz families, would become a darling of late night in his own right— with a number of viral-worthy moments all of his own.
Batiste was there for more than just the punchline, and often given reign to create moments of his own. Whether it be charmingly humbling Simon Hedberg with Mozart, performing a teary eyed rendering of America’s national anthem(s) with Stevie Wonder, or any number of starring skits he’s delivered in his time on the show. He was a star, and his unassuming, southern charm, worked in the show’s favour.
Colbert’s interviews and his interview style also began maturing into its own. A sort of Jon Stewart/David Letterman mash-up; an intellectual charm paired with easily digestible rhetoric. He learned to hold interviewees to account, but navigate conversations with a rare comedic finesse that’d soften his sometimes deafening blows.
Examples of which can be found in his now infamous Trump monologue, a recent interview with director Oliver Stone on Putin; his challenge of ex Tennis superstar John McEnroe’s comments on Serena Williams, or his now viral moment with comedian Ricky Gervais on the existence of god and usefulness of religion.
In a wider sense, Colbert’s Late Show works as the counterweight to America’s now ever-popular traditional news format, and a late night format viewers had grown all to accustomed to. And by occupying a newly discovered middle ground between the two, Colbert has taken steps to help re-shape two of television’s vanguard industries.
He’d started cashing in on a cachet he’d built with his viewers — driven by the endearment of those that’d endured his rough opening year. He’s made a point, now, of appealing to the humanity of his viewer, letting viewers through the looking glass and into his personal life.
Proof of which can be found in his telling an unbelievable story about how he’d met his wife, and even having her in for cameos thereafter.
Colbert gushes as he remembers how him and his wife met — he’s almost reduced to tears. And he jumps with a teenage giddiness at the sight of her. And it’s his relationship with his wife, particularly, that plays into the show’s aforementioned Southern charm.
Colbert’s South Carolinian attitude is anything but Hollywood, and goes a long way in letting viewers up and over the sometimes towering wall of distance that television can create.
And for a man that’s made a living from that wall of distance, playing an exaggerated and caricatured version of himself, Colbert now oozes an authenticity that late night TV has rarely seen — and it’s a recipe that’s continued to work.
As the summer winds down, Colbert will look to carry his torrent of momentum through the fall and into 2018, and rightfully so. Looking especially to top the annual ratings for a consecutive year — with last year being CBS’s first since 1995.
Between Colbert and Fallon, we see a rivalry for the ages — the sort we never fully explored with Leno and Letterman, or any of Letterman’s primetime competitors, really. And in the spirit of Dick Cavett, Johnny Carson, and David Letterman, we’ll see how Colbert navigates the looming threat of such high-stakes competition. Especially in what so many consider a new golden-age for the genre.
For Colbert, his next challenge will be one of fortitude; although he’s now made it, viewers and critics alike will be looking for him to prove he has the staying power to maintain. Fallon sat atop the ratings for two years before he was as much as challenged, and only time will tell if Colbert will be able to do the same.
If he can take an unprecedented run of successes, for him and for network, and turn them into an unquestioned dominance, like the man who’s seat he assumed in the fall of ’15, his place in television history will surely be cemented.
Because if handled correctly, he’ll be in the drivers seat, looking out onto greener pastures, and his next 40-years, from the genre’s summit.
Until he’s dethroned, and the process that is, continues.
For Stephen Colbert, his almost Shakespearian rise to late night royalty has been one of underestimation, strife, laughter, controversy, and a redeeming vindication. Out from the shadow of one of TV’s biggest stars, and into the chair of another — the new, King of Late Night.
