As you enjoy the musings of Kerry Crowel, do consider a one-time contribution or a regular monthly contribution to Barely A Blog, where we nurture like-minded young talent. (The PayPal buttons are to your right). Posting pieces by new writers means editorial WORK for yours truly. Show your love.
Late Night Loser
By Kerry Crowel
Sadly, late night talker Jimmy Fallon is the perfect specimen of modern Western man: emasculated, silly and willing to break into an embarrassing jig at a moment’s notice.
Since his Tonight-Show takeover, in Feb., this year, Fallon has stuck to the script with his ultra-safe and unfunny monologues; has danced his way through the history of Hip-Hop “music,” and, as if further proof of his buffoonery was needed, waged a lip-sync battle with actor Paul Rudd, covering Tina Turner, Queen and Foreigner.
Apparently this is high humor! Cutting-edge stuff.
But really, what would you expect from the guy who secured his spot as a Saturday Night Live cast member with an impersonation of his idol Adam Sandler? Yes, the same stupid Adam Sandler who at one time commanded $20 million a picture. The same Adam Sandler whose success is not a testimony to his talent, but rather an indictment of society.
Grimacing and making goofy sounds will get you far in show business.
Western culture was dealt a blow in the fifties when kids everywhere were exposed to that lunatic in war paint, Little Richard. How we went from the subtle charm of The Glenn Miller Orchestra to the tribal screams of “Wop bop a loo bop a lop bam boom” is one for the ages.
Soon, the supposed enforcer of past oppressions, the most evil entity to walk the planet, the dreaded white man, most often of the W.A.S.P persuasion, had to atone. When livelihoods are at stake and, more importantly to some, the threat of being labeled an old-fashioned outcast—artistic principles tend to crumble. For proof, all one has to do is tune into a red-carpet event, where, for a living, grown men, giddy as schoolgirls, quiz J-Lo or some other Low, as to which designer she’s wearing .
Perhaps I should clarify my opening statement. Jimmy Fallon represents perfectly the prototypical man of the West whom media like to promote. Nonthreatening, neutered, eager to please all people, and obsequious—as if to acknowledge, if not by his words then by actions, his own deficient coolness quotient (which explains the all-black band, the Legendary Roots Crew).
Like his predecessor, and, hopefully, his replacement Jay Leno, the presence of an all-black band gives the show, in Jay’s own words, a “more urban feel,” never mind that a typical Tonight Show audience is whiter than a farmer’s market in Vermont.
As when a new James Bond movie is released, any talk of The Tonight Show will ultimately revert back to reminiscing about past glories. Over the last twenty years, baby boomers, the most self-important generation ever, have elevated Johnny Carson to near-deity status. Exhibiting no sign of real talent, Carson was nothing more than a failed magician, who morphed into a late-night court jester, often donning drag as Aunt Blabby, and on more than one occasion taking a pie in the face. So, when you think about it, Fallon fits the mold perfectly.
I’m sure he’ll make it in spite of himself; he knows all the right people, kisses all the right rings and says all the right things, which is nothing much at all.
Kerry Crowel is as of yet an unsigned screenwriter with an interest in political and social satire. And will probably get a guest spot on the Tonight Show.