Despite his advancing years, Conan O’Brien, now 61, hasn’t abandoned his youthful humour that although annoying, is universally loved for its ability to provoke laughter. Throughout his three decades as one of America’s leading late-night presenters, his comedic persona was distinctive, standing as a counterpoint to rivals like Jimmy Kimmel; he was always the butt of his jokes.
In an amusingly crafted introduction to his new programme, “Conan O’Brien Must Go,” the multitude of travel shows are sent up through a faux display of the Earth at its most breathtaking. A mysterious, celestial voiceover suggests that to truly marvel at the world’s beauty, it has to be defiled at times. The “defiler,” is then introduced, and O’Brien, with his trademark auburn hair and elongated features, emerges.
His character is portrayed as despicable and debauched, far removed from his celebrated past as a talkshow star. The narrative alludes to his forced evolution brought on by a change in environment, pushing him towards the barren landscape of weekly podcasting.
This self-deprecating humour, however, rings true. The Conan O’Brien Show concluded in 2021 amidst dwindling ratings, paralleling the general decline of late-night shows. The era of the suave showman – a persona O’Brien mocked with his sharp wit – seemed to be coming to an end. As a result, O’Brien, referred to lightheartedly as a “crudely painted doll” with doll-like eyes, embarks on a journey driven by his insatiable desire for acknowledgement and sporadic selfies.
In his new four-episode series, O’Brien begins his adventure in Norway, culminating in a visit to his ancestral land of Ireland. It’s then that the flexibilities of his new platform, independent of network television, become evident, allowing him to fully express his surrealistic comedy style. His pilgrimage to Ireland commences weirdly, with a saunter through an eerie, close-knit hamlet filled with individuals bearing an uncanny resemblance to O’Brien, even including a horse humorously altered to bear his facial characteristics.
O’Brien’s portrayal of Ireland steers away from the common tropes of picturesque coastal landscapes and requisite references to stout and literature. Instead, O’Brien embraces Dublin’s vernacular with Lynn Ruane as a guide – with statements such as “you’re causing my Mum distress” and engaging in a lighthearted banter around sexual innuendos, in which through his feigned confusion he learns that someone might compliment him as being “attractive – for a redhead.”
Further, O’Brien interacts with the Three Tenors during an audition and pays a visit to Obama Plaza. At the plaza, he humorously reveals his mock statue, ingeniously arranging it to exchange a high five with the former American president’s likeness. He even has a cameo role in Ros na Rún.
In a segment named ‘The Quest for Bono’, O’Brien initiates a surreal search for the rock legend in Merrion Park during his hibernation period. He stumbles upon a lost pair of sunglasses, and suspicious, obscure footage of a possible Bono stealthily navigating through the woods. He attempts to coax him out with a counterfeit global humanitarian award hung from a tree – a successful, hilarious portrayal of comedic fun. The prospect of the real Bono showing up would have elevated the entertainment, but it’s likely he wasn’t even asked to attend. Basking in an average lifestyle, O’Brien envisages himself stripped of his celebrity image.
O’Brien’s great-grandfather, Thomas Noonan O’Brien, relocated from Ireland to Massachusetts. When young Conan O’Brien was born, his family was already established with a professor father at Harvard, and a mother working as a Boston attorney. Conan too made his mark, serving as president of Harvard Lampoon during university. He was eager and intelligent. Although he always treated his Irish roots with a touch of humour, he always understood the essence of Ireland. During a visit to his family’s original hometown, Galbally, he humorously suggests that his ancestor might have found it tempting to pay a visit to Fraser Lounge Bar and Undertaker for a drink, and a chance to flirt with a bereaved widow.
In a rather humorous segment, he alludes to Stanley Tucci, the undisputed new star of sensuous food and beverage entertainment, by tasting black pudding at Loughnane’s Irish butcher shop. With a bite, he utters half-asleep, “It feels like a homecoming,” and breaks into a spectacular wriggling, euphoric dance on Loughnane’s gleaming tile flooring.
The light-hearted tomfoolery might appear baffling to millions of Irish Americans who hold a more idealised image of their motherland. However, part of O’Brien’s agenda is to playfully deflate this romanticised perspective. During his trip to Norway, he jests about the Northern Lights while a stunning spectacle plays out on screen. The shot then widens to reveal O’Brien holding a laptop, where he watches the same tableau.
“Indeed,” he declares. “The Northern Lights are not due for another… three hours. I am not intending to wait that long.”
Just as well. It’s somewhat disappointing that O’Brien doesn’t allow himself too much deviation from the comical script every now and then. The Irish episode concludes with him seated in the field where his ancestral homestead once stood. His statue at Obama Plaza stands nearby as he ponders about the decision to leave such an idyllic scenery, a move that paved his route to becoming a distinguished talk-show satirist. An earnest side of O’Brien is briefly seen, as transient as a flash of Irish sunshine on a drizzly day. Then he departs, sending off the customary goodbye: “Thank you, Ireland. You’ve been quite an adventure. For a redhead.”