When I saw Stephen Colbert hosting Only in Monroe the day after he said goodbye to The Late Show, I thought, "Is he reinventing the television talk show?"
I know that was unlikely, yet I was a bit excited with the possibility.
Only in Monroe has an audience of perhaps dozens of people in the town of 20,000 people in southeast Michigan, so its ability to reshape national television is limited -- even though Colbert's episode has increased awareness of the show: it has been viewed 1.8 million times on YouTube as I write this.
My thoughts about Colbert reinventing the talk show were not entirely out of line, since Colbert had replaced David Letterman on The Late Show, and Letterman has been credited with reinventing the form, first with Late Night with David Letterman on NBC (1982-1993) and then with The Late Show with David Letterman on CBS (1993-2015).
The claim that Letterman's reinvented the talk show is premised on his ironic approach to the format. His talk shows seemed to ask, "Aren't talk shows stupid? Why take any of this seriously?" I am sure Letterman and his staff worked diligently on the shows, but in their appearance the shows suggested no one was working very hard.
Of Letterman's show, Tim Grierson wrote, "There was nothing upscale or 'professional' about Late Night’s witty stupidity, which made it the polar opposite of the ingratiating, slightly sleepy Tonight Show."
Colbert's recent Only in Monroe had lots of silliness, but I found it surprisingly earnest. Colbert and his writers studied Monroe and its peculiarities to produce jokes and gags just as good as they did on The Late Show about national and international news. This was different to a degree from his first appearance on the show.
When Colbert first hosted Only in Monroe in 2015, he was fresh off The Colbert Report, in which he performed as "Stephen Colbert," a parody of a Fox News political pundit who was sometimes rather stupid. That character lingered during Colbert's interview with Michigan native Marshall Mathers (Eminem). Colbert pretended to be unaware of Mathers' success as a rapper and worked to irritate him in several ways during the segment. (How much Mathers was in on the joke is not clear.) This segment also was reminiscent of Colbert's time as a correspondent on The Daily Show.
In other words, Colbert had ironic moments during his initial Only in Monroe appearance. For much of the episode he is genuine and playful, but there also are moments when he is goofing on the idea of a cable access TV show, in some ways similar to how Letterman goofed on the idea of a network talk show.
I think that this ironic approach, which can seem smug or condescending, was missing from Colbert's return to Monroe 11 years later. The irony of The Colbert Report and of the Letterman influence was replaced with what seems to be a more genuine and humane spirit of fun, and that perhaps reflects more of who Colbert is as a person off the stage.
Oddly enough, this earnestness is evident when Colbert and the show's regular hosts huff helium while discussing one of the host's "cancer journey."
Why would they do that? Because when co-host Michelle Baumann was being treated for cancer, she shared video updates on social media that were recorded with a filter that distorted her face and made her voice cartoonishly high and squeaky. The helium gag reflected someone's careful attention to the people involved with Only in Monroe. Colbert's questions about her illness and recovery were sincere, and Baumann and Kaye Lani Rae Rafko Wilson discussed the experience candidly -- but with a sense of fun, as they were all mindful to take a fresh hit of helium before talking.
The careful attention to the show and to Monroe was reflected in other parts of the episode. All of it became material for jokes, but I did not find the humor condescending. The jokes were not making fun of Monroe for being a small town; the jokes were similar to those made about national events or the absurdities of life in New York City, where The Late Show was recorded. Colbert's staff paid attention to recent local events and created an entirely Monroe-centric show about it -- such as Colbert and volunteer musical director Jack White judging which rival hot dog stands had the better chili dogs: Monroe's Original Hot Dogs and Vince's West Elm Drive-In?
Early in the episode, I wondered if the whole thing was a set-up. Was there really a show called Only in Monroe? Were the hosts real or actors? Were local events invented for the sake of the jokes? I kept thinking of National Lampoon's Sunday Newspaper Parody in 1978. It created an entire Sunday edition of the Dacron, Ohio Republican-Democrat, with fake ads and news stories. It was an impressive, elaborate, and funny contrivance (I still have my copy, nearly 50 years later).
Had Colbert's crew pulled off something like that?
I almost wish they had, but I am happy to know they did not. Monroe Community Meida is a real non-profit organization in the southeast corner of Michigan, and Only in Monroe is a real show.
I had not been aware that Colbert hosted Only in Monroe in 2015. Nor had I been aware that this had apparently inspired several bits on The Late Show, which featured celebrities sharing "community calendar" events from their hometowns. You can find segments with John Oliver, Melissa McCarthy, and others on YouTube.
One of the staff at Monroe Community Media kind of stole the show, creating what I think is another interesting comparison with Letterman's show.
Larry "Bud" Melman, played by Calvert DeForest, vaulted to fame as a bumbling regular character on Letterman's show. He regularly flubbed his lines, missed his cues, and frequently did not seem to understand the premise of the skit he was performing. None of this was edited out. In fact, it became the central appeal of the character and his bits. Melman sometimes acted a foil to Letterman, keeping him from getting through the prepared material. The general failure of the bit was the point. More irony.
Melman's counterpart on Only in Monroe was Genevieve Benson, the creative director for Monroe Community Media. She was behind the scenes as a kind of all-purpose wrangler, providing props and relaying information to Colbert -- and keeping him in line. Benson's appearance lacked the irony of DeForest's; she was appearing as herself, not a character.
When she brings the chili dogs out to be taste-tested by Colbert and White, she quickly realizes she cannot recall which dog is from which restaurant, which defeats the purpose of the taste-test.
When Colbert washed the taste of the chili dogs from his mouth, he spit the water on the studio floor. When Benson came out later with a basket of ingredients for Jeff Daniels to make his famous peanut butter, potato chip, and barbecue sauce sandwich, she admonished Colbert, "No spitting. On the floor. No."
Later in that segment, Colbert called her out to ask whether the studio had a microwave oven. She bounded out and told him they did not -- and then, laughing, she said, "Wait. I'm sorry. We do. I was just ready to say no to you."
When Colbert asked for something to drink because Daniels's sandwiches were very dry, Benson brought him her own water bottle. "It smells a little weird, but don't be alarmed."
If Colbert has another show, he should bring Benson along to be his assistant/foil, in a dynamic perhaps similar to that between Conan O'Brien and Sona Movsesian. Colbert and Benson could recreate their Monroe magic in towns across the United States, presenting their quirks, charms, and chili dogs.
