Nobody Should Replace David Letterman: A Requiem

Nobody Should Replace David Letterman: A Requiem

David Letterman is retiring next year, which means all those obituaries from 2000 are being slightly rewritten and every news site worth its salt is publishing a “who should replace him?” slideshow. Well? Who should?

Obviously there’s no good answer. Letterman is a product of a time when people actually watched late night television. In 2014, the stakes have been dramatically lowered. Late night hosts are competing with the internet now. Network rivalries and matters of brand legacy are outmoded clichés for entertainment writers and pundits. It makes the Conan debacle seem ridiculous in retrospect: a passive-aggressive wrestling match for millionaires. The whole idea of timeslot-based television is anachronistic. It won’t be long until enough boomers die for streaming television to become ubiquitous, sending late night TV into the death-spiral of kitsch.

But despite late night’s march toward irrelevance, Letterman’s retirement is still upsetting because he’s the last line of defense against Jimmy Fallon. If all social media clickbait rose up out of the muck and took form in the dark, it would look like Jimmy Fallon. He is Buzzfeed made flesh and given sickening consciousness. His desperation for approval and social media legitimacy is suffocating. He’s the archetypical guy at a party who comes up to you and says “hey, why aren’t you having fun?” and you can’t just tell him he’s trying too hard because he’s turning the corner toward being incoherently drunk. Then he comes back later and asks if you know where to get coke around here.

And Letterman is a respite from that, as he was a respite from Leno’s equally pathological need for approval. As comedy grows more and more characterized by middle class twee sensibilities, by awkwardness and self-conscious sincerity, Letterman has always been the anarchic constant. He straddles that line where not-giving-a-shit ends and nihilism begins. While Fallon deals in the comedy equivalent of those listicles about how your favorite 90s cartoons are actually subversive, Letterman’s off in his own world, throwing bowling balls off of buildings.

Letterman always has exactly the right level of detachment from his own show. He’s hyper-aware of the mediocrity inherent to anything that’s on 5 times a week, and he’s so dissociated from the nature of his material that even the most formulaic joke about an ephemeral tabloid item takes on a more enduring punchline: we’re all gonna die. None of this matters. It’s just a show. And when a joke bombs, it’s hard to feel bad for him, because he’s not interested in validation anymore. He’ll just stand there and let jokes die. There’s a comfortable distance in his eyes, the same distance Carson had, that says I’m only here tonight because I never died of alcohol poisoning.


The result is that he assuages the shame inherent to watching a talk show and engaging with pop culture in the first place. He’s fed up with entertainment and fed up with the whole notion of late night TV. It gives his show a sense of misanthropic lawlessness. Even his best interview is one moment of awkward silence away from devolving into “oh gosh, talk shows sure are stupid. I want to exit society immediately.” And when this approach works, it’s funny in a way that Jimmy Fallon could never be. It’s unburdened by social media pandering, and it holds up better, but it probably won’t ever happen again.

Now, I haven’t seen any of those slideshows about who should replace Letterman, but presumably Conan O’Brien, his protégé, is under consideration. He’d be fine. But late night TV is on its way out as a significant cultural presence, and anybody who takes the job will have to figure out how to be watched 45 seconds at a time if they ever want to make the front page of Reddit.

Here’s our solution. CBS should just save America a couple years of annoyance by not replacing Letterman at all. Test patterns. Stock footage. Tom Snyder reruns. Anything. Let late night comedy die of natural causes.

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  • mondojohnson

    This is so perfectly put that I needn’t read anything else on the subject.

  • torontomeridith

    Ooh, Tom Snyder re-runs! Color-tinis for everyone!

    • Zippy W Pinhead

      I would love to “watch the pictures, now, as they fly through the air.”

  • Homestar

    I couldn’t agree more with this.

  • msanthropesmr

    When I think of Letterman, I think of this episode., of course – “Do you have a Barn Owl on Your Head?”

  • Vienna Woods

    I’d suggest that Craig Ferguson would make sense, but he has such a great thing going on at 12:30 that I’d hate to jinx it.

  • AnOuthouse

    Yeah, Jimmy Fallon, get off my lawn!

  • peteywheats

    People today that only see the “old grump” that Letterman is will never really understand how he totally ruled late night TV back in the day on NBC.

    • EJ

      He never ruled late night TV.

  • Zippy W Pinhead

    The first episode was legendary. I don’t know WTF Bill was on, but I’m betting it involved tequila and mushrooms. What made Dave great was that back then he was seriously cutting edge- nobody was doing what he did(please don’t send this to moderation hell for the link)

  • DeSwiss

    ”Letterman’s retirement is still upsetting because he’s the last line of defense against Jimmy Fallon.”Okay, then it’s not just me…….

    • mfp

      nope…he’s your dweeb little brother that wont stop following you around…gets old really quickly

  • topjob66t

    That was so well laid out I am all kerfluffed. Dave deserves to leave and be able to take all of the history of Late Night with him to his retirement place. A place only he may occasionally let us visit. Nice writing Kaleb. Good way to go into the weekend.

  • CapnFatback

    While I agree that Dave was his own animal–a prankster on the late-night format–and that he will be missed, I like what Fallon does too. Fallon rubbed me the wrong way when he was on SNL, but damned if he (or, rather, his team) hasn’t won me over with just how much fun his show is. Today’s celebrity interviews are wading in the shallows (no one does it like Carson had); thus the death of the late-night PR performances masquerading as “talk shows” can’t come soon enough. Compared to the alternative, I find it preferable to see Amy Adams and Paul Rudd dog it out in Pictionary or lip-syncing contests.