Conan Takes San Francisco

Last night Conan O'Brien came to SF to collect his Sketchfest 2010 Tribute Award at The Herbst Theater. I expected the usual accolades followed by an hour long retrospective of his career.  Instead, I was treated to a 3 hour conversation facilitated by Patton Oswalt with Andy Richter joining in about half way through. No pimping of Conan's upcoming show on TBS, bitter tirades against NBC or Leno, or glib remarks. Conan was raw and loose on stage as he and his buddies polished off a couple bottles of red wine while discussing their industry.

They said all TV executives, the “people behind the curtain”, are scared shitless. The internet, YouTube, social media, and cable have ripped the media business wide open. Studios are losing control and have no clue how to react. When Conan was tapped to take over Letterman's Late Night Show in 1993, there were no photos of him. Newspapers had to run a gritty image they snatched from a TV screen. Today anyone can advertise themselves, which gives more people a chance to shine or make fools of themselves. And reality TV has set a precedent that you can be famous not for any talent you might possess, but for just making a spectacle of yourself.

When Conan left Harvard, he made a pledge that he wasn't going to work on a show he didn't believe in. Money wasn't the priority. Although he had enormous respect for SCTV and wrote for The Simpsons, he felt SNL and Letterman's show were the most creative environments at the time. When he took over The Late Show in 1993, he had a week-to-week contract which eventually turned into a 13 week contract. He was canceled once, but the network had no replacement so he was put back on. Eventually the network lost interest in the show and left him alone, which gave him the freedom to develop the show he wanted. Contrast that to his almost non-honeymoon stage on The Tonight Show.

Conan believes longevity is overrated. It's not important to him how many people are watching him, but who's watching him and his connection to them. Although he's never gotten used to criticism, he's learned to push through it. He appreciates people who love his work and the outpouring of affection for him on Facebook. And it's important to him that he's thought of as a good husband and Dad, not just a comedian. To him, comedy and morality are interconnected.

Of course, Conan was funny too. He did the string dance and joked about his love of Popeye and the fact that his act is more like a cartoon than anything else. At one point he jumped up and yelled, “Fuck you, Jon Hamm, for being so handsome AND such a nice guy!” He made one of the audience members show him his driver's license, because he couldn't believe his name was Lazar. And when Patton was getting the wave to close the show, Conan got out of his chair, sat at the edge of stage, and continued to take questions and play with the audience. He was clearly enjoying himself—as was I. When I left the theater, I felt like I had spent the night at the local pub with my good friend, Conan.

Bon Voyage, Conan! I wish you well, and look forward to your new show in November.