I recently have been browsing New York Magazine articles thanks in part to the Night Owl. She sent me some Doctor Who videos from the Vulture, which is New York Magazine's Entertainment branch.
I recently read an article they wrote about Jimmy Fallon. And I found myself in complete agreement with the author.
I don't watch much late-night television, but I have seen enough bits and pieces to find Jay Leno's humor to be a bit mean spirited ('Jay Leno, by contrast, is known as the “nice guy” of late night, but even a signature bit like “Jaywalking” revolves around asking normal people questions, then chuckling at their dumb responses'), David Letterman to be a 'crotchety truth-teller,' and Conan to be a little off-kilter (the man just oozes 'wired energy'). And after listening to Jimmy Fallon on the Nerdist Podcast, I think the man is TV's best ambassador of 'unabashed celebration'.
I also liked hearing Jimmy Fallon being compared with Hugh Grant. It's true, they both kind of exude a very likable charm, although there is a slight difference. I would describe Jimmy Fallon as a lovable dude, whereas Grant is a lovable man (Okay, even that word isn't quite right. But I hope you get my drift). And although I did love Fallon in Fever Pitch, I can see how America might not have seen Fallon as a leading man to carry romantic comedies.
I was really interested when I read that Lorne Michaels 'was the only person on planet Earth who envisioned' a hosting career for Fallon. To think that someone could have more faith in me than I do is hard to imagine (no, not because I really think I'm that super), but also something that I would love to have reason to think.
My favorite bit though, is probably the last paragraph of the article.
After his taping, still flushed yet exhausted, Fallon recalls the story of a personal turning point, during a rehearsal on SNL. “I was in a bear suit, trying to do comedy. I was thinking, This is lame, this is a waste, they can’t even see my face. Then I looked over at Will Ferrell and he had metal clamps on his nipples and he was getting water thrown on him. And he was just doing it, no complaints. For me, that was a clicking moment. That this could all be a lot easier if you just go with it.” He jacks his eyebrows slightly and smiles. “It’s not: I’ve got to wear a bear suit. It’s: I get to wear a bear suit.”
This conscious self-restraint against complaining (to others and to myself) is something I'm still working on, and I hope to master it some day.
