I’m not a late-night talk show fan. I appreciate all of the hosts, like some better than others, but they all hit pretty much the same note, which gets monotonous.
I knew the last night of “The Late Show” would be different. Like a Game 7, I didn’t want to miss it. I watched online the next morning, ad-free, along with the companion “Questionert” episode — two uninterrupted hours of Stephen Colbert’s last act.
“To do this many shows,” he said in his opening, “it has to be a machine. But the thing is, if you choose to do it with joy, it doesn’t hurt as much when your fingers get caught in the gears.”
The last two shows were especially joyful:
Colbert singing “Hello, Goodbye” alongside Paul McCartney, backed up by Jon Batiste and Elvis Costello.
Colbert’s answer to the question from his wife, “What’s your favorite smell?” — “When we’re going out someplace and you go upstairs to get ready first. . . . I get to the top of the stairs and I know you’ve already gotten out of the shower because I can smell that rose lotion. And I know that you’re in there wearing very little.”
Colbert and Josh Brolin kissing on the lips.
Colbert’s pick for the one song to listen to for the rest of his life: Glenn Gould’s performance of Mendelssohn’s “Songs Without Words,” Op. 19, No. 1.
The entire staff mobbing the stage — dancing, hugging, singing — even before the final chords of the final song were done.
Colbert’s answer to the very last question, “How would you describe the rest of your life in five words?” — “My family, my friends, fun.”
Colbert called his show “The Joy Machine.” You didn’t have to be a fan to feel it. His kind of joy was for debaters. Sandwich-lovers. Coffee-spitters. Mendelssohn and McCartney fans. For people who question God. For anyone who just liked a good time. (The cancellation wasn’t anti-joy — although it was a joyless act — it was a calculated political decision.)
We all have pets that die, friends who betray us, relationships that don’t work out. Joy is how we survive. “The Late Show” was one place to find it. It can also be found in good fiction, the dog park, a late-night call to a brother, the Knicks in four, any night “Jeopardy!” is on.
But there’s also the hum of another machine: Hannity, Charlottesville, school shootings, election denial, the manosphere. Literally, a hate machine.
Too many of us have stopped looking for Colbert’s kind of joy because it’s become partisan. Kamala Harris ran on joy and lost. Colbert ran a Joy Machine and got canceled.
The plug’s been pulled, so Colbert’s machine won’t be emitting any more of the fossil-free stuff. It was only an occasional source for me, so I won’t miss it as much as his staff or Jon Stewart or my friend Peter, who saw the show seven times in person.
But there’s plenty of joy out there. Politics are beside the point. Find some.
Jonathan Cranin is a retired advertising executive. He lives in Water Mill with his wife and rescue dog.