Advice for the first-time host of a new late-night show: Patience is your friend.
Viewers of a new host and a new show could use the same advice, and that goes in boldface for critics. (The latter never listen, of course.)
Very few late-night shows come out the gate flying down the track; they usually meander, stumble, misstep, and move with the awkwardness of every creature taking his/her first steps. (See Conan, Kimmel, Fallon, etc.)
And most of them are comics with established stage presence. Now put that first-night pressure onto a football player. A lineman, no less.
To Jason Kelce’s credit, he seems to get all that, even the lineman business. One of his most astute comments on the premiere of his new ESPN late-night show, They Call It Late Night, was his observation that “linemen aren’t supposed to have their own show; that’s for the quarterback, the star receiver.”
That bit of legit-sounding humility summed up Kelce’s emerging appeal (his more famous brother is a star receiver, and what sort of fame has been knocking on his door? Oh yeah, never mind.)
The new show is all about the bro appeal of the homely lineman, whose name only gets mentioned on TV when he commits holding. Kelce went about establishing his credentials as a popular local bro throughout his new show, emphasizing in his comedy bits, his guests, audience members, and its very location, that he is celebrating his professional home for the past 13 years, Philadelphia, and the team he starred for, the Eagles.
If viewers came looking for something else, like a 10-minute comedy monologue filled with jokes about Matt Gaetz’s apparent botox addiction, they’d wandered into the wrong show, and the wrong network. ESPN is not the place for topical political humor; it’s a place where guys (mostly) hang out, chug beers and celebrate the mangled hands of former NFL players.
All of those were highlighted features of the new Kelce show: He exalted the NFL, showed big photos of players with fingers twisted or missing, and staged a chug contest with four apparently semi-pro binge drinkers, one of whom had the Philly Phanatic tattooed on his bulbous belly—the mouth being his cavernous navel.
You’re not going to get that kind of content on Late Night with Seth Meyers. Which is kind of the point. You’re not going to get casual “shits” and “bullshits” and a fusillade of F-bombs either (occasionally the bleeps came so fast and furious they drowned out whatever uncensored words came next), or a sidekick who doubles as the host’s wife, and equal-opportunity foul-language enthusiast.
Kylie Kelce is a celebrity of sorts herself, and she came across self-possessed and entirely comfortable on TV.
Her hubby had the expected jumpiness of the new host, stepping on some of his lines and not knowing exactly how to pay off some of the bits created for him. Such as introducing the show with a taped piece featuring him dressed in hideously garish Philadelphia Mummer costume, giving the Eagles stadium a hug, after some earnest but not especially moving words about missing the place.
Or trying to be an effective straight man in a bit about going back in time to give his 14-year-old self the news that he would get a talk show one day. It was a strained, high-concept idea that didn’t score much, though Jason did get off the best line of the night, when the kid asked if older Jason had any other surprises for him.
“Well, Mom and Dad get divorced.” (They were seated comfortably together in the audience.)
The guests—all Philadelphia centric, though Kelce promised the show did not intend to be all Philadelphia all the time—came out at the same time and Kelce joined them in a panel (no desk for this show). They tried other good-idea-on-paper bits like narrating NFL highlights in the stentorian style of John Facenda, the legendary voice of NFL Films.
You could tell it was an idea sprung on the guests because Charles Barkley didn’t bring his glasses and couldn’t read the card Kelce gave him. He managed, using the prompter.
Barkley, no surprise, was the most comfortable human on the show, because of his extensive experience playing himself on TV.
But that didn’t mean Kelce wasn’t the star of his own show. Yes, it was shambolic at times, but so was the late-night show the celebrated comic John Mulaney did on Netflix last year, and he got overall great reviews.
Kelce should not be held to that standard in new late-night hosts. In fact, the only standard here is probably Magic Johnson, who tried to parlay his massive sports fame into a talk show back in 1998.
Despite his unparalleled brilliance handling the ball, Magic couldn’t handle the host thing and lasted only from June to September. (In its entry for The Magic Hour, Wikipedia notes that in the book What Were They Thinking? The 100 Dumbest Events in Television History Johnson’s show ranks 26th).
Can Jason Kelce do better? He has limited time to prove he can because ESPN has only committed to five episodes.
But he has things going for him. Notably authenticity. He came out dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, but that seemed genuine. A suit would have been silly. His hosting style seemed to match his construction boots: loose and laceless.
And mostly he projected a bottom-line essential for a successful late-night host: likeability. Lorne Michaels, who knows something about late night, said the biggest key for a new host is that “people really like him.”
The rest can be worked on. If that part’s not there, you’re headed for a permanent seat on the bench.
Jason Kelce, at a minimum, looks like he belongs on the field.
They Call It Late Night with Jason Kelce airs at 1am ET Friday nights through January 31st on ESPN. The complete premiere episode can be viewed below:
