Conan O’Brien has the perfect qualities to make him an appealing host for the Oscars: he’s big, he’s broad, he’s energetic. The show surrounding him, meanwhile, is often bloated more than big, shallow rather than broad, and phlegmatic rather than energetic.
Sure, there are always some lovely emotional moments from sincerely moved winners. But there can also be a lot of bloviating—as there was early last night from the uniformly obscure winners in the short-subject categories.
Conan has another valuable skill. He is a television host—and a celebrated one who understands how to keep a show on track.
That skill has often been the difference between Oscar hosts who survive the night and those who don’t. The Academy has long experimented with movie stars and comedians in the role. But many of the ones who’ve handled the job best have shared a particular trait: they were seasoned television hosts who knew how to ride out the lulls, land a joke, and keep the evening moving.
Last night, Conan did his best to shake the thing up again, which, to his credit, he does respectfully. He knows he’s there to make fun, and the opportunities to skewer grandiosity and pretension are abundant. But he lacks a shred of malicious intent. Even when calling the Oscar voters “pricks.”
It was said with love. And it got a big laugh.
It must be acknowledged that he didn’t rock the house quite as thoroughly last night as he did last year, when he electrified the arena. Maybe it’s the times we live in, as more than a few people—including Conan himself—noted during the festivities.
His observation came first in a joke, referring to heightened security threats tied to the war in Iran. “Security is extra tight. I’m told there’s concern about attacks from both the opera and ballet communities.” (Surely there’d been enough coverage of the Timothee Chalamet comments for that one to go over.)
Later Conan made a more forthright appeal for optimism in the face of what he called “chaotic, frightening times,” which definitely went over well.
He did bring forth a solid complement of good jokes in the monologue. Was he political? A bit.
He noted that it was the first time since 2012 that there were no British performers nominated for Best Actor or Best Actress.
“A British spokesperson said, ‘Yeah. Well, at least we arrest our pedophiles.’”
Big oooh. Big laugh.
As of this writing, Donald Trump—a known Oscar viewer—has not weighed in with umbrage, as he did two years ago when Jimmy Kimmel aimed more direct comic ammunition at him.
An annual issue with the movie-based comedy material the Oscars call for is that it only works to full effect if the audience has actually seen the films being parodied.
That was one reason the big-swing cold open—a Conan trademark dating back to his earliest television days—may have befuddled some viewers at home.
In the sequence, Conan—wearing a crazy wig and glasses—was chased across a panorama of American geography and history by a madcap crew of frenzied children, a riff on the film “Weapons.” Unless you had seen the movie, the reference may not have been immediately obvious.
Still, the bit functioned as a rapid-fire journey through scenes and sets from several nominated films, with some of Conan’s inserted appearances landing nicely—especially a Bergman-esque scene with Stellan Skarsgaard exchanging angst-ridden dialogue in Norwegian.
Perhaps that’s why a later, smaller bit—satirizing how the distraction of smartphones has compelled some studios to ask filmmakers to keep pedantically explaining earlier plot points—played better. The more universal “Casablanca” setup certainly helped.
The tone was signature O’Brien: wit on wry.
Same with a joke only someone who spends a lot of time around keyboards—word, not musical—might fully appreciate. Conan said he loved the car-racing film F1 and that it did so well they’re making a sequel: “Caps Lock.”
When he added, “Some of these I do for myself,” I believed him.
Another set piece—Conan imagining how ungracious and self-absorbed he would be if he ever won an Oscar, eventually exalting himself to emperor status—never quite caught fire, though the blessing from the Pope was a nice touch.
What the show lacked overall was consistent energy—and even a whiff of wit—in the written introductions from presenters. These segments are frequently dreadful and often betray a lack of preparation from people who normally know that rehearsal is useful. Last night they seemed lamer than ever.
There were a few exceptions.
Kumail Nanjiani was handed the evening’s most unexpected moment when he had to announce a tie for a winner—in the short-subject category.
“Ironic that the short-film Oscar is going to take twice as long,” Nanjiani said, a terrific ad lib.
Conan’s wasn’t bad either, congratulating both winners for having “just ruined 22 million Oscar pools.”
The most prominent exception among the presenters came from a different corner of late night. Jimmy Kimmel was tapped to present the documentary awards, and he was hardly going to pass up the chance to irritate his No. 1 fan in Washington.
After praising the courage of documentary filmmakers who risk potential death to tell the truth, Kimmel noted that there are some countries whose leaders don’t support free speech.
“I’m not at liberty to say which,” Kimmel continued. “Let’s just leave it at North Korea and CBS.”
For a final flourish, Kimmel saluted documentaries that inspire people to action—and also those “where you walk around the White House trying on shoes.”
Jimmy Kimmel presenting at the Oscars: "There are some countries whose leaders don't support free speech. I'm not at liberty to say which. Let's just leave it at North Korea and CBS." pic.twitter.com/6k92W4bN5W
— LateNighter (@latenightercom) March 16, 2026
Political floodgates now open, David Borenstein—the filmmaker to whom Kimmel handed the Oscar for Documentary Feature Film for Mr. Nobody Against Putin—spoke about how people lose their country through “acts of complicity,” touching on familiar themes of governments killing people in the streets and oligarchs taking over media. No one was missing the political message there.
Almost all the favorites won, limiting the surprise factor. The usual silliness also persisted: people who make a living memorizing lines for the camera stepping onstage and pulling out tiny notes to read.
The humor drifted away somewhat late in the evening, much like the last segments of an old-fashioned late-night show.
And that is precisely the challenge of hosting the Oscars. It’s essentially a late-night show stretched to three and a half hours, with fewer jokes and far more speeches. Few hosts understand that rhythm better than Conan O’Brien.
Those who tuned out during the goodbyes might have missed one final bit: an exhausted Conan being approached by an Oscar official—played by legendary late-night writer Jim Downey—who informed him the Academy was so thrilled with his work they wanted him to be “host for life.”
And then they set him up to be gassed to death.
A metaphor, perhaps, for the life of an Oscars host—or a late-night host.
It’s a kill-or-be-killed gig.
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