Nobody assigns an official designation of “folk hero;” you just sort of know one when you see one.
Tuesday night at the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s elegant Howard Gilman Opera House, it sure looked like Jimmy Kimmel was on his way to that status, if he wasn’t already there. The crowds outside arrived early and enthused, and the audience inside was jazzed to the rafters.
When Kimmel appeared on the big, Broadway-deep stage—much bigger than his home playing field in Hollywood—he was greeted with an ovation more fit for a rock icon than a late-night host, an ovation that went on so long Kimmel genuinely had to urge his devotees to cease, sit, and listen up because he had a real show to do.
And it was a packed one. A late-night-centric extravaganza, which ended up with a trio of Donald Trump’s least-favorite Americans sharing a photo op center stage. It looked a bit like a wee-hours haunting, with three co-hosts of Late-Night Present conjoined to disturb his sleep.
More on that later.
What was driving the super-charged energy was the rolling reaction to Kimmel’s principled, and ultimately winning, stand to fight the Trump Administration’s bullying efforts to use government intervention to force him off the air. As the days have unfolded since the decision by ABC/Disney to bring Kimmel back from a questionable suspension and allow him to continue to sling comedy at Goliath’s sensitive psyche, more and more fevered adulation has showered down on the ABC host.
His refusal to play doormat, as so many universities, law firms, networks, and major national political parties had previously done in the face of official bullying, has elevated Kimmel to something akin to a caped champion of truth, justice, and the American way.
Not that you would notice from the host’s demeanor. He remained last night the same self-effacing, un-self-impressed, just-a-regular-guy comic he has always been, inclined to dismiss any bestowed cloak of “folk hero” as off-puttingly garish—and silly.
It just happened that he was a host with a noticeably inflexible spine.
And the crowd clearly loved him for that.
Kimmel’s second night of a week-long relocation to his native Brooklyn had a centerpiece booking stunt. Stephen Colbert—podcast friend, management teammate, fellow Trump puncturist—was the featured guest. With Kimmel cross-booked on Colbert’s Late Show, to be taped about 45 minutes after Kimmel wrapped up his episode, the effect would be two competing late-night hosts appearing as lead guests on shows airing at the exact same time.
Was this worthy of note? When Letterman and Leno did a Super Bowl commercial together, the world just about stood still. The Obama White House made an instant call to determine if the bit was real. (It was.)
No such “rivalry” pertains in this late-night era. Not only was Colbert a generous presence for Kimmel, but another late-night star, Seth Meyers of NBC’s Late Night, ducked in for a cameo, faux-protesting his brother Josh’s bombastic Gavin Newsom impression (and faux-disdainful critique of Seth).
It was clearly a blast for all parties—at least north of Washington.
When the brothers appeared in the green room after leaving the stage, they enjoyed the rampant approval of the Kimmel team gathered there. Josh, who has made a nice little career move doing Newsom on Kimmel (they are remarkable doppelgängers), related that he has yet to meet the California Governor, though they have exchanged humorous birthday greetings.
Colbert noted that the confluence of Trump-targeted late-night hosts seemed like Brendan Carr’s worst nightmare.
New York being more New York than ever at rush hour, much planning went into the need for host transportation. Kimmel pushed his taping time up about an hour and Colbert slid his to allow, it was hoped, some large black vehicle to deliver guest so he could host, and later, host so he could guest.
Both men dashed out of the theater as soon as freed, looking like something was chasing them. (Something sort of is, of course.)
Was a show-business helicopter considered? Not really, a Kimmel producer said.
Colbert had the option to nudge his start time back if Kimmel got delayed, so that reduced any timing pressures. About the only vanishingly worrisome development was an ambient electronic tone that interrupted the Colbert interview enough to stop the taping. It may or may not have come from an obstreperous saxophone, but it was contained quickly.
The Colbert interview more than justified the booking pas de deux. He revealed how he first learned his show had been canceled and the difficulty he had breaking the news on the air, as well as how he learned about Kimmel’s own near-cancellation experience while he was literally mid-show. He even brought tape to document the moment.
These are details you usually only learn in books about late night.
Here’s another one: Jimmy Kimmel has gone fishing with both Seth Meyers and Jimmy Fallon.
What changed to make all these later-generation late-night hosts such close friends? A couple of life-altering plagues, maybe?
If there was any remaining doubt—and there isn’t—the hosts underlined their mutual dis-admiration of the President of the United States in italics during their Late Show conversation when the term “son of a bitch” was uttered.
And that was before Guillermo arrived with the tequila shots.
They ultimately toasted late-night TV. Something worth fighting for.
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That was tequila Guillermo brought out, not vodka.
Of course it was. Thanks Jay, fixed…
“These are details you usually only learn in books about late night.”
Heyyyyyy, I see what you did there. 😉