Conan’s Bar Mitzvah
Conan O’Brien is the funniest person I ever interviewed, which puts him atop a list that includes Ben Stiller, Chris Rock, Jon Stewart, Dave Chappelle, Sanjay Gupta, and Lil Kim. Because many older Conde Nast articles are not archived online, you can read the Details magazine Q&A I did with Conan only by going to this LiveJournal page, where my copyright is being infringed. If enough people click on the link, we can give a pageview orgasm to some LiveJournal blogger.
By journalistic standards, I should be referring to him as “O’Brien,” rather than the familiar “Conan.” But the sleepytime repetition of late night talk lulls us into first-name usages: Conan, Dave, Jay, the Scottish guy on CBS. These are the men we take to bed with us. And Johnny Carson went to bed with so many people, even Warren Beatty would think it was freaky.
“Saturday Night Live” overlord Lorne Michaels picked Conan to succeed Dave as the host of NBC’s “Late Night” in 1993, and—because back then people still watched network TV—there was shock and outrage. “He doesn’t have enough on-air experience. He hasn’t logged the hours,” people moaned. Because on TV, on-air experience means everything, as long as you don’t consider The Martin Short Show, The Pat Sajak Show, Mohr Sports, and so on.
His fellow comedy writers from “SNL” and “The Simpsons” all testified that Conan had been the funniest person in the room, which is high praise. On Twitter, just in the last few minutes, I’ve seen #TeamConan hashtags sent by comics Doug Benson and Jim Gaffigan. Most comics love Conan and are unfazed by Jay, who uses a lot of hacky this-month’s-news punchlines like the crummy Warren Beatty joke I passed off on you. I swear I saw Jay do a Fatty Arbuckle joke this week. Conan fans do cool things, like connect via social media and make viral videos. But Jay fans watch TV.
Conan is probably funnier than his show. After reading the Q&A I linked to above, a friend of mine asked, “Why isn’t Conan that funny on his show? If he were, I might actually watch it.” Conan, like Dave, and unlike Jay, probably knows he could be doing better material if he weren’t performing for people who just flossed. This give Conan, like Dave, an edgy relationship to his namesake show. But unlike Dave, Conan never seems calm and in place. He’s eager, like he’s sitting in the foyer of a mansion, waiting for his orally-fixated prom date to slide down the banister. When I watch Conan, I want to send him Klonopin.
This latest “Tonight Show” debacle has its beneficiaries: Twitter traffic, entertainment lawyers, Bill Carter’s book career, and comedy itself. There’s never been a funnier week to watch late-night TV, because these days, everyone in the country is in on the meta jokes. Jay makes a joke about Johnny. Dave mocks Jay’s chin. And everyone does bukkake on Carson Daly. In the meantime, Conan’s ratings spike, which he deserves, because he’s been hysterical. Back to my interview: his best answers are meta, in the form of surreal, free-associative spins on celebrity. There must have been meta in his placenta. Getting bitch-slapped has made a man out of Conan, and the longer the debacle is drawn out, the freer and sharper he’ll be.
Rob Tannenbaum, a journalist and comedy writer, also sings in the awesome band Good For the Jews (GoodForTheJews.net).
This is an opinion piece. The views expressed in this article are those of just the author.
