Taste Isn't Everything

The problem with discussing Jay and Conan's shows, as well as the rest of the late night debacle, is that invariably the author inserts his taste, which of course comes across as fact--that obviously Conan is so much funnier than Jay, that Jay is flat-out dry and unfunny. As much as we all do this to some degree, it's particularly irksome in this case, because both men--as well as the rest of the late night group (save for Carson Daly, but no one cares about him anyway)--are all established comics in one way or another. Sure, their humor, style and approach all differ, but that doesn't necessarily make one inherently unfunnier than the other. Jay had a loyal audience and was regularly beating Letterman by 20%--and ratings do indicate that he was popular. Someone was watching him; it may not be those who write the articles and Twitter obsessively, but he had plenty of lower-profile fans.

However, despite the partisanship, this Daily Beast article dissects why Conan's Tonight Show wasn't doing well, and he throws out the timeslot as hogwash:

The problems were fundamental. First is that here in the hangover of the 2008 election, we want political satire. O’Brien doesn’t do much political satire. If you think of the transcendent bits that surfaced on YouTube since Conan began Tonight last June, they’ve come from Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, various cable chat shows, even ancient Saturday Night Live.

Conan’s only major contribution to political goofery is Smigel’s (inspired) ventriloquism of politicians like George W. Bush. It’s no wonder that O’Brien’s Late Night ratings plummeted by nearly 700,000 viewers (more than 25 percent) back in 2008, when the nation glued its eyes to the campaign. It should have been an omen: His Tonight Show felt off-topic before it started.

That might not have been so deadly if the Tonight throne hadn’t distorted what made O’Brien funny. The problem is not the old saw that O’Brien’s “brand of comedy” doesn’t play at 11:35 p.m. Carson and Letterman had plenty of inspired wackiness, and Grandma and Grandpa liked them just fine. The problem is that O’Brien is really at his best as a straight man—the guy doing the horrified reaction shot when the masturbating bear runs out on stage. He’s a ringmaster rather than an emotional center of gravity.

This flows from O’Brien’s Harvard Lampoon sensibility, a kind of comedy that is impish and intellectual rather than crusading and heartfelt. (You can never imagine Conan snarling like Jon Stewart.) There’s nothing wrong with this, and it could work within the right show. But when O’Brien sat down at Johnny’s desk, the gravitas seemed to throw off his balance.

He goes on to say that the Tonight Show hadn't figured itself out yet. Well, duh. That's not a huge sin for a show that's only been on a few months, and talk shows--which tend to have hundreds of episodes over a multi-year run--should have even more leeway than other types of programs. They're done on the fly, working simultaneously on several days' worth of episodes. Anyone who's ever watched the same host multiple days in a row knows that they repeat jokes; that is, they exhaust the same stories, news items, and themes day after day. This week every host has been riffing on the Jay/Conan/NBC mess; it hasn't gotten old yet, but the jokes about Harry Reid have. It's the nature of the game, not meant to be watched night after night, but to flip casually among many. As such, some nights are bad; it depends on the jokes, the news, the guests, and if you stick around, you do get glimpses of the style. But each man and his respective staffs put on a show, and the effort is seen. Denigrating either performer for comedic chops is unfair to the work they do.

On Jay and Conan, and This Awful Situation

The brilliant Mark Harris predicted the Leno mess months ago:

But these days, with its lineup zigzagging from football to low-end cheapo reality like The Biggest Loser to botched onetime hits like Heroes to media pets like 30 Rock, NBC’s brand is scattershot. The face of the network, by virtue of sheer omnipresence, is Jay Leno, who, at 59, is not any network’s demographic ideal. He may not be killing NBC, as TV Guide recently speculated, but it’s beginning to feel like he’s participating in an assisted suicide. One thing’s already clear: Remaking an entire prime-time lineup in his familiarly peevish image was a Hail Mary pass, not a long-term business strategy. And one suspects the network knows it. With Jeff Gaspin already working hard to repair NBC’s relationship with the creative community by signing deals with high-profile producers like Jerry Bruckheimer and J. J. Abrams, it’s hard to imagine that he and Zucker are not beginning, very quietly, to consider a Plan B. That could involve paying off Leno and canceling his show, cutting it back to three or four nights a week to give the grid a little more flexibility, or even returning Leno, “by popular demand,” to the Tonight Show. Start sweating, Conan; Leno recently told a trade reporter he’d take that deal if he were asked to—a seemingly offhand comment that sounds a lot like the beginning of a gigantic face-saving maneuver.

TMZ broke the news Thursday that NBC was considering a shakeup in their primetime and late night schedule, an earthquake that only rose as the days continued. It was another powerful coup for TMZ, the first time sticking its tentacles into business matters. Jay Leno and Conan O’Brien, both middle-aged white men not usually the sort of target the gossip site goes after, were now the number one story.

It’s a real shame that it all had to end this way. The “failed experiment” of The Jay Leno Show was pilloried online, absolutely brutalized from the moment it was announced. Sure, it sucked for the creative community, but it was an interesting, bold move, and I supported Jay, Conan, and NBC. NBC said multiple times that they would honor the two-year commitment, wanting to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but it was the affiliates—some, like Boston, which was against it from the start—who revolted.

Although NBC liked The Jay Leno Show, they felt they had no choice but to pull the plug, that a reduced load—airing two or three times a week—was not enough. Obviously, they wanted to hang on to Jay and Conan, to everyone, so they came up with their half-hour deal. It was a panacea, the best way they could retain all their talent. It’s a mess, with not enough time for everyone, yet too many holes to fill.

What’s changed so much is the business climate; the shows weren’t given much time to settle in, to get comfortable, showing just how different television is today. The Jay Leno Show hadn’t even been on the air for six months before it was cancelled, and it was performing to expectations. Conan’s Tonight Show was doing ok, but it had only been on the air since June. Conan was up against Letterman, an institution in his own right, and still in the midst of an extortion scandal; Jay’s show was an experiment still in the testing stage. It’s well known that their predecessors had bumpy rides when they first began, all they needed was a little time, at least a year!

Sure, the audiences for each comedian were different—a lot of people who were used to Jay at 11:30 may not have appreciated Conan’s humor, since they rarely saw him when he was on after midnight, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get used to a new face or a new slot. But even those who want to argue that online viewership should matter—Conan’s Tonight Show was the 13th most popular item on Hulu last year—it is an issue that is irrelevant for the affiliates, a group who rarely get the spotlight. Jay Leno’s show didn’t crack the Top 25. This isn’t surprising; while Jay beat Conan in total audience numbers, his biggest fans tended not to be the types of people who watch clips online: middle-aged parents, the loyalists, the people who’ve known Jay for years. Conan’s audience is naturally up later, college-aged and people who aren’t settled into decades-old habits, and will watch the same wacky stuff over and over again, flipping online for the clips they missed.

It’s hard to comment on Leno vs. Conan’s respective shows without getting into taste—and that’s another arena where no one ever wins. Both of them have made several shots at NBC’s expense, as well as riffing on the situation at hand. Alessandra Stanley has an astute analysis (though she does come down on Leno’s side; he is the more polished performer):

[Conan] is considered a younger, hipper comedian, but as it turns out, his “Tonight” show is not very different from Mr. Leno’s. On Thursday they both made the exact same joke about the freezing temperatures in China — so cold that little children can’t get to their factory jobs. (Mr. Leno told his version a bit better.)

(I've noticed repeat jokes among the late-night hosts, too; Jay always comes out on top.)

But truthfully, both men got screwed. While there are plenty of people who say Jay should retire (and should’ve retired years ago), should he really be forced out? His Tonight Show was regularly beating Letterman. Leno himself wants no hard feelings, and was always supportive of Conan. He just wants to do a show. And Conan has worked hard and is great at what he does; he shouldn’t be forced out (though that’s a dominant reading of the situation). Also, Conan upended his life for the Tonight Show; he is in charge of a whole crew of people and their families, and that they moved to accommodate the changes, too. It’s no small thing to a lot of people.

So while it’s not surprising that Conan made the decision he did:

People of Earth:

In the last few days, I've been getting a lot of sympathy calls, and I want to start by making it clear that no one should waste a second feeling sorry for me. For 17 years, I've been getting paid to do what I love most and, in a world with real problems, I've been absurdly lucky. That said, I've been suddenly put in a very public predicament and my bosses are demanding an immediate decision.

Six years ago, I signed a contract with NBC to take over The Tonight Show in June of 2009. Like a lot of us, I grew up watching Johnny Carson every night and the chance to one day sit in that chair has meant everything to me. I worked long and hard to get that opportunity, passed up far more lucrative offers, and since 2004 I have spent literally hundreds of hours thinking of ways to extend the franchise long into the future. It was my mistaken belief that, like my predecessor, I would have the benefit of some time and, just as important, some degree of ratings support from the prime-time schedule. Building a lasting audience at 11:30 is impossible without both.

But sadly, we were never given that chance. After only seven months, with my Tonight Show in its infancy, NBC has decided to react to their terrible difficulties in prime-time by making a change in their long-established late night schedule.

Last Thursday, NBC executives told me they intended to move the Tonight Show to 12:05 to accommodate the Jay Leno Show at 11:35. For 60 years the Tonight Show has aired immediately following the late local news. I sincerely believe that delaying the Tonight Show into the next day to accommodate another comedy program will seriously damage what I consider to be the greatest franchise in the history of broadcasting. The Tonight Show at 12:05 simply isn't the Tonight Show. Also, if I accept this move I will be knocking the Late Night show, which I inherited from David Letterman and passed on to Jimmy Fallon, out of its long-held time slot. That would hurt the other NBC franchise that I love, and it would be unfair to Jimmy.

So it has come to this: I cannot express in words how much I enjoy hosting this program and what an enormous personal disappointment it is for me to consider losing it. My staff and I have worked unbelievably hard and we are very proud of our contribution to the legacy of The Tonight Show. But I cannot participate in what I honestly believe is its destruction. Some people will make the argument that with DVRs and the Internet a time slot doesn't matter. But with the Tonight Show, I believe nothing could matter more.

There has been speculation about my going to another network but, to set the record straight, I currently have no other offer and honestly have no idea what happens next. My hope is that NBC and I can resolve this quickly so that my staff, crew, and I can do a show we can be proud of, for a company that values our work.

Have a great day and, for the record, I am truly sorry about my hair; it's always been that way.

Yours,

Conan

It still leaves everyone else back to asking, now what? Is Jay Leno back to the Tonight Show? Will everything about his new show be completely forgotten? He had some good stuff in there (like the “Earn Your Plug” game). Whose studio will he use? How will Conan do on Fox, where he is most likely to land? Is the Tonight Show tarnished forever? Will Jay lose a lot of audience share or support? Will those rush-job dramas be ready by March? Will this season be another implosion all-around for television, like it was two years ago? Will the affiliates really be happy? For business buffs, how will this impact the Comcast deal? Is there nothing worth a wait?

Comcast’s pending takeover of NBC Universal is the dog sniffing around the hen. While Jeff Gaspin, Chairman of NBC Universal Television Entertainment, has said that the pending Comcast takeover has had no effect on the decision, some outlets believe otherwise, citing the PR nightmare that rogue affiliates would cause as further proof of what a stinking egg NBC is. Gaspin, for his part, said that he wanted to wait until September, he wanted to see the numbers for a full television year, but the affiliates threatening to revolt forced his hand.

According to Deadline Hollywood Daily, a third of the affiliates (NBC has over 200) had talked about preempting The Jay Leno Show. I’m not sure what they would put on instead (would reruns really have given them a better boost? Seriously?), because their local news drop-offs were so bad, and advertising rates were plummeting faster than stomachs on a roller coaster. Yes, it is a bad time in media, but that's no longer an acceptable excuse, and clearly neither was waiting. It’s one of the few times that affiliates get to bully their bosses around, and so many, rightfully, place the blame on them.

Over the summer, Leno made his rounds to the affiliates, trying to soothe them that everything would be alright, that losing Law and Order wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. And yet, somehow, despite it being on all the other stations, it was. NBC tried mightily—God knows everyone saw Jay Leno’s face everywhere the past several months, something Jay was quick to joke about—but somehow, it felt too little, too late.

Further reading: Ratings info included here; More on NBC's "Midlife Crisis"

Deconstructing "Bad Romance"

When Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” hit a few weeks ago, it was an event in a way that is rare nowadays. For one thing, her video not only got coverage—lots and lots of coverage—but it was actually anticipated, actually viewed, multiple, multiple times. “Bad Romance” exceeded hype, and the love for the freaky, weird, psychologically confounding, hyper-symbolic, sexy video only continued. Deconstructions of “Bad Romance” are all over the Internet, with many including a play-by-play using screen captures. “Bad Romance” has symbolism and sex written all over it, and really, the video is just incredible.



So what is Gaga saying? Like many of her other songs, the theme here is hard love—rough love, a bad romance, wanting something so badly that she’s caught up in something terrible but she doesn’t care. She’s upfront about her freaky side, and in her wanting, there is anger: “I want your everything / as long as it’s free.” The low growl of her voice, the thumping tone of the music, underscores her feelings. James Montgomery of MTV calls “Bad Romance” the bridge between the old “The Fame” Gaga and her new “The Fame Monster” Gaga, now with additional sex and spookiness. Some focus on the "sex slavery" aspect of the song and video or the occult imagery. Still other interpretations play off her quote, “That tough female spirit is something that I want to project. It's meant to be, 'This is my shield, this is my weapon, this is my inner sense of fame, this is my monster,' “in that she embodies different facets of womanhood through the stories she devises.

“Bad Romance” is practically several videos at once, and that makes it so wonderful and so difficult to deconstruct. There’s a basic narrative—in the singer’s words, she is “kidnapped by supermodels. I'm washing away my sins and they shove vodka down my throat to drug me up before they sell me off to the Russian mafia," but she escapes by blowing up the head guy in a fiery blaze—which is intercut with various other Gagas, each with its own look, every one easily a separate video. I love Gaga dressed in black, her yellow stringy hair falling down, those big black sunglasses obscuring her face. I love the babydoll Gaga, Kewpie doll eyes, innocence in a tub. I love Gaga, vulnerable, broken down, hysterical with (nearly) no makeup on, crying “I don’t wanna be friends!” There’s the alien Gagas, in Alexander McQueen ensembles, in diamonds and white latex and shiny gold, with snazzy headpieces and razor-blade sunglasses, in fabulous black lingerie and only-acceptable-in-a-music-video-this-artistic white thong underwear. Gaga, at various points, is all of many things: alone, vulnerable, innocent, dazed, wistful, childlike, terrified, satisfied, sexy, powerful, defiant, strong, beautiful.

Despite the diverse Gagas, she uses many of the same symbols and motifs as she has in earlier videos and public appearances—encasing her body in shiny orbs, spikes on her head and heels, weird lines on her body, either through clothing or through effects, faces and eyes covered, surrounded and studded in diamonds. The video itself borrows from many sources—some of her choreography, like the crawling, is directly from Madonna’s “Express Yourself” video, and in the opening there are allusions to her other videos and to “True Blood”. In the lyrics, there is a nod to Hitchcock: “I want your psycho / Your vertical stick / Want you in my rear window / Baby you’re sick”, though the whole song is about wanting in a psychologically damaging romance. She ends her performance on "Jay Leno" by grabbing her crotch, another move defiantly done in “Express Yourself”. She knows how crazy she is—she does call herself a “freak bitch” several times—and she wants all sorts of freaky things besides love, hard to quantify things, not to mention that she trills her own (stage) name in the cheers that surround the song. Then there are the animals—the dog that has appeared in all her videos, the bare cat hissing away, the goats on display over the bed, the bear peignoir she wears to present herself to her captor—and the death, violence, and alcohol that have shown up in other works.

The video moves between gray, dark lighting and bright white. The darkness finds her hidden away, in alien mode, but the blinding brightness is her exposed, in the man’s world, until she claims it. Gaga follows the same pattern, extremely pale to note her vulnerability and innocence, ending outfitted with red lace and strips of cloth, with black boots and gloves to symbolize the breaking away (Viva la Revolución!), her own power. The dancers clap around her, in celebration.

She has performed “Bad Romance” in a number of venues, and they all feature similar choreography, not only making it easier for the performers but also tightening her message. On "The Jay Leno Show", she opens dressed in a black bodysuit with huge shoulders, like a pillow growing out of her upper back. Her hands turn into claws, and her dancers, lying down, now start to claw awake and alive. Lady Gaga claws at the air, at herself, and then holds her hand out as if she wants a ring or a kiss as she sings “I want your leather-studded kiss in the sand”. “You know that I want you, and you know that I need you, I want it bad, your bad romance” she intones, and all the dancers form behind her, clawing their way forward. It’s creepy and cool. As the chorus continues, the dances go psycho, waving and clawing around. All the dancers are male, and they all are wearing masks. Even the musicians in the background are dressed this way.

She twists and stomps, and she shoots off an imaginary gun during “’Cause you’re a criminal as long as you’re mine”, just like in the video. The bridge is more clawing, baring her chest, and her dancers move closer, behind her. They dance in unison, before the lead dancer, a wire cage over his face, lifts her up through her legs, his hand on her stomach. It gives me the willies every time. His teeth are bared, his face menacing. These guys really are creeps. The final chorus, Lady Gaga’s right hand is a fist, and she pumps it up and down, determined.

The entire performance is aggressive, but it’s not just her movements that personify this, it’s her songs themselves. The French lyrics that open the second bridge don’t just rephrase the central lines of “I want your love/ I want your romance”, they demand. She is not polite, she does not use the polite form of “to want”. “I demand your love” is followed by her wailing “I don’t wanna be friends” with “caught in a bad romance” swirling in the background, building up the pain. In a sense, the main storyline and the song don’t match up, because she has no interest in the man at the center of the story. But the choreography of her movements, some of her other selves—mainly the close-up of her face, crying—do fit with the song, and the consistency of her choreography throughout multiple performances suggest something else. As in other songs, she is aggressive and shameless, and the clawing, marching, and twisting only further the interpretation that this is her definition of a “tough female spirit”.

The Jay Leno Show(down)

Over the past few years, I have become a huge Jay Leno fan. I have a thing for corny jokes; I love his everyman shtick, the way he has a little bit of everything. He always keeps up with what’s going on, and you know he’s a guy who reads the papers. He’s always accused of being Middle American, middle-of-the-road, old fashioned, even. So what. Technically, I’m not supposed to like him, since I’m young, hip (said ironically), and from the coast. I should like David Letterman, if I wasn’t off doing something way cooler. But I have no use for Dave. He doesn’t make sense to me; he’s not funny in the least.

To counteract Leno’s Time cover (written by their wonderful arts/culture reporter, James Poniewozik), New York magazine did their cover on Letterman, as if to stick their tongue out and go, “So what Leno’s getting all this publicity. Letterman’s SO obviously better. And we would know, cause we’re New Yorkers and we have taste, not like you schlubs. You’re the guys who’re making the CSIs and Desperate Housewives big hits!” Well, suck it. I’ve sheepishly admitted my love for Leno before, apologetic, but he does have the ratings to prove his popularity. And it’s deserved—his work ethic is as legendary as his car collection.

NBC has been running more promotions for his show than the rest of their fall season combined, ensuring that everyone will watch him at first and then hopefully catch on that NBC has other shows (starting soon!) that air before him. Ratings will be big, doubtlessly helped by Kanye’s scene at the VMAs Sunday. It was nearly universally derided as a douchbaggy thing to do, and this somehow has escalated into something major, so now cultural critics are trying to ascertain why there is so much outrage at what is nothing more than a rude, insensitive act. Mike Hale of the Times does the best job:

The extended reaction to Mr. West’s deed certainly had something to do with a continuing national conversation about rudeness, whether to presidents, line judges or irritatingly successful country singers. But it was really just the latest manifestation of our addiction to artificial drama, which has grown stronger as the stuff has become more plentiful and cheap, and the shamelessness with which the media now picks at the scabs of any sort of conflict in order to boost ratings.

Of course, the first episode is nothing but the first episode—and while NBC has committed to airing Jay at 10 for two years, it remains to be seen how well he will fare, if indeed people get tired of him. Expectations are both low and high, in that Leno is supposed to save television yet it doesn’t matter how low his ratings actually are, an interesting conundrum to be in.

So how was the first show? Pretty good. It’s Jay, and really, it didn’t change. They're the typical Jay jokes, lighthearted, corny, a little political, a little not, filled with dumb people and contradictions, GE and NBC getting the raw end, like they always do. Two of his jokes, though, were stolen, a blight on this hardworking, fastidious comic: Kanye and Taylor Swift having a “root beer” with the president was suggested earlier in an article that popped in Google News, and Dick Cheney’s alma mater The University of Wyoming is naming their international studies center after him, of course crying out for a joke—one made last week by Conan O’Brien. Whoops.

I loved the set, the opening credits, the montage. The credits were fresh, but reassuring, not dull like most talk show openers, and this one offered interesting possibilities upon rewatching. I am even more enamored of NBC’s ads for the new season: crisp, clean, modern, understated, and simple, showcasing the quality and implicit the pedigree of the network.

Jay opens with his monologue; there’s a long, taped skit that may or may not be funny, depending on your tastes and how tired you are at the moment, and then comes Jerry. Funny jokes, the biggest surprise is that Jerry’s in a tux.

There was speculation Sunday evening and Monday morning as to whether Kanye would honor his commitment to the show, and while it was great that he did come on, what did his “apology” replace? And whose idea was it? I doubt it was Jay’s. Kanye never did answer the question of why he did it. He mentioned that he screwed up, didn’t think that Taylor would just leave. Of course the whole thing was blown out of proportion, but what else happened?

Kanye didn’t look at the audience or Jay, and he rambled on. Kanye looked like he was going to cry…mumbling, embarrassed, a kid who was doing something he had to do but didn’t want to, and Jay’s question, though asked sensitively, merely resulted in protracted awkwardness and too much dead air. People aren’t going to buy Kanye’s supposed “apology”, it was the usual celebrity narcissistic rubbish, of taking responsibility and the time to assess their role in the world. But he does have a point with regard to award shows, in that he still retains the naïve belief that they mean something, they reward the best. The video for “You Belong With Me” isn’t bad; it’s cute and fits the song well. It’s not inventive or sexy or as fun as “Single Ladies”, but again, “Single Ladies” was up for Video of the Year, a much bigger award, and the VMAs are as much as about popularity as they are for name recognition. Kanye’s had some great videos and songs, too, and he’s been incredibly fortunate that he’s as successful and genre-changing as he is, and that he’s recognized for it, too, and that despite his massive ego, it hasn’t totally overshadowed his work, though again his taste for toolishness has threatened to do so once again.

Interesting choice to run with headlines at the end, especially after the high energy of Rihanna, Kanye, and Jay-Z. It was Rihanna’s first public appearance since her altercation with Chris Brown, and, as befitting the song, she was tough, with just a stripe of blond underneath her cap to differentiate herself. Great performance, though Kanye was impotent until his verse three-quarters into the song, where he was his usual self. Rihanna looked happy. As much as I enjoy “Headlines” (and he opened with his trademark line, “It’s Monday—Time for Headlines!”), it was a letdown after such a performance. I’m not ready to go to bed yet!

There are some people who say that’s the problem, that Jay’s corny humor is meant to be dozed off too, a relaxing nightcap. Maybe. But there are people who go to bed at 11.