Itâs no secret that sometimes comedy is taken a bit too seriously. Comedy obsessives love not just the jokes, but the mechanics and emotions of the comedy world. There are a raft of comedy documentaries exploring comedy and comedians, but do they really have anything significant to add to the discussion? This series looks at comedy documentaries and whether theyâre interesting, insightful, and possibly evenâŚfunny?
There are few comedy documentaries as prominent as Conan OâBrien Canât Stop. Then again, there are few comedy personalities as big as Conan OâBrien, and few comedy stories as notorious as his memorable departure from The Tonight Show in January of 2010, when comedy nerds and ordinary folk alike were fixated on the drama engulfing one of the most respected comedy institutions in the country.
The documentary follows OâBrien as he hits the road with his Legally Prohibited from Being Funny on Television Tour. The filmâs focus is on OâBrienâs astonishing work ethic and drive; planning the next stage of his career began on the day of his last Tonight Show. âI donât know what it would be like to stop,â he says early on. âWhat do you mean, stop? What does that even mean?â
But the real thesis of the film comes a bit later. âI might be a fucking genius and I might be the biggest dick ever. I donât know. Or maybe both.â There is certainly ample evidence to support both sides. On the genius end, his boundless energy is incredible, and heâs genuinely funny even when heâs exhausted. Though the film canât use any material from his NBC shows, âgenius Conanâ has been seen on TV for years.
But itâs his showmanship that also brings out his worst side. Even when heâs tired, cranky, and bitter, he canât help but entertain the legions of well-wishers and friends who want to see him. How awful it must been have been for anyone he met on that tour to watch this documentary. In person, he seemed so happy to see everyone; in the film, he canât stop talking about how much he hates it. Itâs especially true of a staged birthday party, where he walks towards the room complaining about how itâs âexactly the opposite of what I would have wanted,â then exclaims, âThis is great!â as he enters the party.
His nastiness is a result of a Hollywood-stroked ego. There are many times in the film when OâBrien wants sympathy for his brutal schedule, but itâs hard to feel too bad for anyone in a private jet, especially someone who, over the course of the documentary, compares himself to Mozart, Napoleon, and Anne Frank.
The filmâs biggest strength is that itâs so intimate that the viewer becomes, in a sense, an expert in âConanese.â When a wardrobe guy is showing him clothing options and says he can pick whatever he likes, he snaps in âonâ Conan-style, âDonât talk to me like Iâm a child.â He then immediately downshifts. âDonât put up with it, just stand up for yourself.â And, in that moment, I actually do feel sorry for him. He is a genius, and a dick, and he canât stop being either one.
And so, in conclusionâŚ
Is it interesting? Absolutely. It helps that the portrayal of OâBrien is far from reverential â it would be hard to blame anyone for disliking him by the end of the film. Some people seemed taken aback by the darker, crueler side of OâBrien revealed in the film, but it feels like a natural flip side to the goofy string-dancer of late night.
What does it have to say about comedy? Comedy, interestingly enough, isnât a major focus. OâBrienâs writers are around a lot, but we donât seem much of them actually writing. It gives the impression that being funny is the easy part for him; the rest of the job is the struggle.
Is it funny? There are some cute gags, both intentional ones like OâBrien pretending to receive a telegram from Jay Leno that finishes with the line, âWhatâs it like to have a soul?â; and unintentional jokes like him confidently telling his producers, âWeâre not going to TBS.â But overall, the film isnât too concerned with being comical.
Can I stream it on Netflix? Yes!
Any comedy documentaries youâd like to see discussed? Do let me know.
Elise Czajkowski is a freelance journalist in New York City. She naps frequently.