Hubster Sharilyn has sent us this wonderful “Taping ReporT” of her trip to the September 26, 2016 taping of “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert”.
This was my fourth Late Show taping, completing my (revised) personal quadfecta: a test show, the premiere, a normal show, and now a live post-debate show. I may have to revise that list again if he ever takes the show on the road!
That “normal” show back in March was rough. In that taping report, I glossed over some brutal production/continuity issues. Truth is, I was alarmed by the troubles they seemed to be having.
Happily, this night was carefree and went off without a hitch. Sure made the future look bright.
LINING UP
I was in the area mid-day and walked past the theatre around 2pm. There were maybe 6 people waiting in a line, presumably for standby. The signs in the window were still from Friday (“not taping today”). I went for a coffee, and 30 minutes later the line was down to 1. I swung back there at 5, and it was 0. It’s a mystery.
I joined the line at 6:15PM and was 10th. The line grew slowly, and I don’t think it even reached 53rd St. until well after 7:00PM. Standby signup began at 8:00PM.
Nothing about our check-in process was normal. We were notified a few days beforehand that check-in time would be about an hour earlier than planned, making it an 8:15PM start and 8:45PM cutoff for Priority. My friend joined me shortly before 8:45, and had plenty of time to spare. We hoped this would mean we’d get to watch the debate.
The pages went down the line around 8:30PM and checked in the General ticket holders first, and sent them away to Three Monkeys bar around the corner. At 8:45, they checked in Priority, and sent us directly inside.
The security team paid huge compliments to my purse (Kate Spade Wellesley Durham in teal if anyone wants to impress ‘em), and we were led into the first (brighter, smaller) of the two lobbies. We started watching the debate on the monitor, sparing us yet another viewing of Only in Monroe.
After about 20 minutes, they informed us we’d be going inside for the rest. Great! Not only that, but they wanted us to livetweet the debate using the hashtag #LateShowLive. While we were inside the studio. Normally if security so much as sees your phone in your hand, they’ll be on you instantly, so add this to the “weird” list.
BUT, still no photos allowed inside. They told us that it was so we wouldn’t “ruin” anything for viewers in advance of seeing the show. As if they were going to reveal any spoilers to the studio audience. Okay, sure.
GOING IN
VIPs were led upstairs as usual, but some were led inside the lower level and placed in a variety of locations. Then our group went in.
My friend and I were inexplicably led to the aisle on the desk side, stopped 2/3 of the way back, and told to sit on the aisle of the side section.
“Really?”
You have to be kidding me. All that time in line to get close up and a view of the dome, and we get these crap seats?
The coordinator put on her cheery face, told us that we were “specially selected” for this particular spot, and that we’d find out why. I think the look on my face made it clear that this wasn’t enough information, so she elaborated.
Presumably the woman who practically tackled him during the credits that one time prompted some precautions, because she told us we looked like normal people who weren’t going to jump all over him when he came down the aisle at the end of the show.
Part of me wanted to respond with, “Google me and you’d think otherwise,” but I knew how futile it was to debate the issue.
We plunked ourselves down, deflated. Our formerly-chatty line mates met the same fate, and sat silently in the row ahead. It felt like premiere night all over again, when those of us who’d been there since 9 a.m. were put halfway back while those who arrived after noon were front and centre.
I was annoyed that I spent precious NYC tourist hours in line for nothing, but even more annoyed that I couldn’t give my friend the best possible inaugural taping experience just because I’m a late-30s woman who wore a conservative outfit and wasn’t frothing at the mouth. Am I destined to get annexed to the back every time now unless I try to act like a lunatic?
Alas, the seating buzzkill wasn’t over.
A half hour later, the coordinator came back with two new people in tow. There were two seats left partway down our row, but instead of putting them there, she just told everyone to shove down two spots. Now we wouldn’t even be visible in the shot anymore.
“What happened to being specially selected?”
She shrugged, turned her back to me, and walked way. Fabulous.
WARMING UP
It was what it was, and the only option was to try to focus on the remainder of the trainwreck unfolding on the monitors above us. Dear God.
Looking at the hashtag, only a few of us were actually livetweeting. I think most people forgot the hashtag, and it wasn’t posted on the screens for us. Very cool watching the debate with such a large group of people, though; everyone was reacting the same way everyone else probably was while sitting on their couches.
(Random: Rich Dahm faved one of my tweets, which might’ve made me squee in fangirl joy. Old school TCR nerds will understand. He follows me, NBD guys.)
After the debate was over, we were given a 20 minute break to go stretch our legs, and claim our ration of water and “snacks” – an odd assortment of off-brand munchies. Good of them to feed us; I think the water was most useful for everyone, though, and would be great if they did that every night. (Water IS unofficially allowed in the theatre, btw.)
Once back in, Paul Mecurio. did his warmup with his requisite photos of audience members, requisite “HA!” prompts, requisite plug for his upcoming standup dates, and requisite racist remark. Nothing unexpected here.
Paul introduced the band, and you would’ve seen all this on the Facebook Live video. It felt like a short set (though any length of playing from them would feel too short!) and we didn’t even get to If You’re Happy and You Know it before Jon Batiste called out “Hello, Stephen!”
Out he came, to a standing ovation natch. He did the thing where he told us to say hello to each other, and then asked for questions.
I’ve officially become the thing that I hate: the person who can’t remember every Q&A question verbatim. What is wrong with me? (Answer: everything.)
There was a question about what he’d read to someone in some situation. If I remember the question, I’ll add it in the comments. The answer was ‘The Silmarillion‘.
A couple across the aisle from us asked Stephen if he could help tell their family that they’re expecting a baby. Stephen asked their names and where they were from, and whether they knew if it was a boy or girl yet (they didn’t). He repeated their names over and over to himself to lock them into his brain.
Someone else asked what he’d be doing if he weren’t doing comedy. He gave his standard answer – “time” – which of course got a big laugh.
Stephen warned us that anything could happen, and there would be some footage that he wasn’t even confident would appear on screen when he threw to it.
Mark McKenna gave us final instructions, and I swear his showmanship goes up a notch every time I see the show. One thing different on this particular night: we had “APPLAUSE” instructions in the monitors for when they were going in and out of break, in addition to his script-whipping. Makes me wonder how often they have to sweeten those on a normal night.
TAPING TIME
Stephen stayed out to watch the ghost of Abraham Lincoln bit with us, sitting on the edge of his desk, and mouthing the words as he always does. I’ll never not enjoy watching him watch himself. (Though I immediately noticed he was wearing a different suit and tie in that piece, which is an unusual mistake for them.)
During the monologue, he set up the clips of Trump sniffling, and when they appeared on screen, he did a little fist pump. Guess that was a close one! During all the other clips, he enthusiastically smiled and nodded at Chris Licht (who reciprocated). They were both obviously thrilled with how it was going.
During the breaks, I really saw the evidence of Licht’s impact on the production. That “row of middle-age male asses” that I wrote about in my premiere review is no more. Instead, it’s Licht acting as the filter, leaving Stephen out of all the little notes and choices. Matt Lappin and Paul Dinello stepped out from behind their divider for a split second each. Tom Purcell sprinted halfway to Stephen’s desk maybe twice. And I didn’t see Barry Julien or the head writers even once. Nobody is up there except Licht, McKenna, hair and makeup, and what I assumed was a segment producer each time.
Rob Lowe’s undecided voter segment was great. He was standing in Stephen’s monologue spot, with a black drape covering him from the waist down so we wouldn’t see the Magic 8 Ball until he revealed it.
Later on, you would’ve seen a mid-commercial replay of what happened during the break that followed: Lowe, changing in the wings, ran out shirtless and whipped his t-shirt against Stephen’s desk – much to Stephen’s shock and delight. Not that there was any tension to break, but I think Stephen genuinely appreciated the spirit of it. Stephen watched the replay on his desk monitor, and there were more smiles and nods between him and Licht.
Rob Lowe’s segment ran a teeny bit long, judging by poor Mark’s very focused attempts to make Stephen wrap.
Before Kal Penn came out, Stephen ran backstage to say hello to him, which we then saw on the show’s Snapchat. He also stuck around after his segment and chatted with Stephen through much of the break.
My friend and I are both performers, and we’ve both done standup (she actually rushed to the taping straight from a show). We were probably more nervous for Emma Willmann than she was. It’s one thing to have to do a set on live television. It’s a whole other thing to be at the END of a live show, and knowing that if the show went long, you might have to cut on the fly. Most people don’t know that late night sets are meticulously constructed. What would happen?
What happened is that she killed. Stephen watched from his desk, and seemed to enjoy her set as much as we did.
During the final commercial break, Stephen came up the aisle to speak with the couple that was expecting, and shake their hands. I trust he was explaining that he didn’t have time to make their announcement, but he spoke with them for longer than that, perhaps sharing some parenting advice? It was classy as hell. My friend was wide-eyed, and even I – knowing full well what a decent guy he is – was impressed. Such a huge night for him, but he was still thinking about them.
He said his goodnights and exited (my mother was the only one who could spot me in the shot).
I was surprised that he came back out and down the aisle afterwards. He asked us how many of us thought Hillary won the debate. We applauded. He asked how many of us thought Trump won. Silence.
And he took one more question, which I forget. I know, I know, I hate me too.
He seemed to not want to get off stage, but he bid us goodnight and we filed out. (The piniata area was taped off so we couldn’t snag any candy on the way out.)
After a total of 6.5 hours of standing in one spot and then sitting in another, we desperately needed some pub grub and beer. Characters bar around the corner still had an open kitchen at that hour, and the patrons made for some creative backstory-writing on our part.
TAKEAWAYS
#1: seating location unfortunately makes a huge difference. The view of Stephen’s desk was great, but frankly, you lose so much of the vibe being back there. Not only is it the physical distance, but you’re also surrounded by people who really don’t care as much, and it makes it harder to get pumped up.
I wish the audience coordinators had the empathy to not deviate from their system on a whim. I’m sure 95% of the audience are typical casual viewers, and I appreciate how draining it must be to deal with their idiotic questions and inability to pay attention to the rules. It’s probably like being a flight attendant without ever getting to travel anywhere.
But they’re also dealing with people who planned and looked forward to this experience for months (or years). I hoard my vacation days and cut corners financially just so I can fly in for tapings every six months. Others travel farther, struggle more to budget, and may only ever have one shot at it. We are the people at the front of the line. The staff must know that.
Even taking the fairness out of it, it’s just logical to put the most dedicated people up front. Stephen feeds off the audience’s energy; why would you try to stifle that and hide his biggest fans in the back?
#2: Seeing Stephen’s connection with his audience through a new person’s eyes can be wonderful. I got to watch my friend experience exactly what I experienced 11 years ago when I saw Stephen perform live for the first time.
There was a moment during one commercial break where Stephen had nobody standing over him, no notes to review, no direction to take. He looked out at the audience blissfully, doing what I can only describe as drinking us in. That’s when my friend became a fan for life. Later, we ended up talking a lot about our respective performing endeavors, and how we both want to do more to make the same kind of connection he does. It may be premature to say, but I think he’ll prove to have a big impact on her as a creator, just as he did on me.
IN SUMMARY
A wonderful experience in spite of the seating evils, and great to see the show run so smoothly even on a high-pressure night. I’m both impressed and relieved that Stephen and his staff were in such high spirits. I’m 100% #TeamLicht, and I can’t wait to see what’s ahead for the show.
September 26, 2016: The Taping ReporT!
This was my fourth Late Show taping, completing my (revised) personal quadfecta: a test show, the premiere, a normal show, and now a live post-debate show. I may have to revise that list again if he ever takes the show on the road!
That “normal” show back in March was rough. In that taping report, I glossed over some brutal production/continuity issues. Truth is, I was alarmed by the troubles they seemed to be having.
Happily, this night was carefree and went off without a hitch. Sure made the future look bright.
LINING UP
I was in the area mid-day and walked past the theatre around 2pm. There were maybe 6 people waiting in a line, presumably for standby. The signs in the window were still from Friday (“not taping today”). I went for a coffee, and 30 minutes later the line was down to 1. I swung back there at 5, and it was 0. It’s a mystery.
I joined the line at 6:15PM and was 10th. The line grew slowly, and I don’t think it even reached 53rd St. until well after 7:00PM. Standby signup began at 8:00PM.
Nothing about our check-in process was normal. We were notified a few days beforehand that check-in time would be about an hour earlier than planned, making it an 8:15PM start and 8:45PM cutoff for Priority. My friend joined me shortly before 8:45, and had plenty of time to spare. We hoped this would mean we’d get to watch the debate.
The pages went down the line around 8:30PM and checked in the General ticket holders first, and sent them away to Three Monkeys bar around the corner. At 8:45, they checked in Priority, and sent us directly inside.
The security team paid huge compliments to my purse (Kate Spade Wellesley Durham in teal if anyone wants to impress ‘em), and we were led into the first (brighter, smaller) of the two lobbies. We started watching the debate on the monitor, sparing us yet another viewing of Only in Monroe.
After about 20 minutes, they informed us we’d be going inside for the rest. Great! Not only that, but they wanted us to livetweet the debate using the hashtag #LateShowLive. While we were inside the studio. Normally if security so much as sees your phone in your hand, they’ll be on you instantly, so add this to the “weird” list.
BUT, still no photos allowed inside. They told us that it was so we wouldn’t “ruin” anything for viewers in advance of seeing the show. As if they were going to reveal any spoilers to the studio audience. Okay, sure.
GOING IN
VIPs were led upstairs as usual, but some were led inside the lower level and placed in a variety of locations. Then our group went in.
My friend and I were inexplicably led to the aisle on the desk side, stopped 2/3 of the way back, and told to sit on the aisle of the side section.
“Really?”
You have to be kidding me. All that time in line to get close up and a view of the dome, and we get these crap seats?
The coordinator put on her cheery face, told us that we were “specially selected” for this particular spot, and that we’d find out why. I think the look on my face made it clear that this wasn’t enough information, so she elaborated.
Presumably the woman who practically tackled him during the credits that one time prompted some precautions, because she told us we looked like normal people who weren’t going to jump all over him when he came down the aisle at the end of the show.
Part of me wanted to respond with, “Google me and you’d think otherwise,” but I knew how futile it was to debate the issue.
We plunked ourselves down, deflated. Our formerly-chatty line mates met the same fate, and sat silently in the row ahead. It felt like premiere night all over again, when those of us who’d been there since 9 a.m. were put halfway back while those who arrived after noon were front and centre.
I was annoyed that I spent precious NYC tourist hours in line for nothing, but even more annoyed that I couldn’t give my friend the best possible inaugural taping experience just because I’m a late-30s woman who wore a conservative outfit and wasn’t frothing at the mouth. Am I destined to get annexed to the back every time now unless I try to act like a lunatic?
Alas, the seating buzzkill wasn’t over.
A half hour later, the coordinator came back with two new people in tow. There were two seats left partway down our row, but instead of putting them there, she just told everyone to shove down two spots. Now we wouldn’t even be visible in the shot anymore.
“What happened to being specially selected?”
She shrugged, turned her back to me, and walked way. Fabulous.
WARMING UP
It was what it was, and the only option was to try to focus on the remainder of the trainwreck unfolding on the monitors above us. Dear God.
Looking at the hashtag, only a few of us were actually livetweeting. I think most people forgot the hashtag, and it wasn’t posted on the screens for us. Very cool watching the debate with such a large group of people, though; everyone was reacting the same way everyone else probably was while sitting on their couches.
(Random: Rich Dahm faved one of my tweets, which might’ve made me squee in fangirl joy. Old school TCR nerds will understand. He follows me, NBD guys.)
After the debate was over, we were given a 20 minute break to go stretch our legs, and claim our ration of water and “snacks” – an odd assortment of off-brand munchies. Good of them to feed us; I think the water was most useful for everyone, though, and would be great if they did that every night. (Water IS unofficially allowed in the theatre, btw.)
Once back in, Paul Mecurio. did his warmup with his requisite photos of audience members, requisite “HA!” prompts, requisite plug for his upcoming standup dates, and requisite racist remark. Nothing unexpected here.
Paul introduced the band, and you would’ve seen all this on the Facebook Live video. It felt like a short set (though any length of playing from them would feel too short!) and we didn’t even get to If You’re Happy and You Know it before Jon Batiste called out “Hello, Stephen!”
Out he came, to a standing ovation natch. He did the thing where he told us to say hello to each other, and then asked for questions.
I’ve officially become the thing that I hate: the person who can’t remember every Q&A question verbatim. What is wrong with me? (Answer: everything.)
There was a question about what he’d read to someone in some situation. If I remember the question, I’ll add it in the comments. The answer was ‘The Silmarillion‘.
A couple across the aisle from us asked Stephen if he could help tell their family that they’re expecting a baby. Stephen asked their names and where they were from, and whether they knew if it was a boy or girl yet (they didn’t). He repeated their names over and over to himself to lock them into his brain.
Someone else asked what he’d be doing if he weren’t doing comedy. He gave his standard answer – “time” – which of course got a big laugh.
Stephen warned us that anything could happen, and there would be some footage that he wasn’t even confident would appear on screen when he threw to it.
Mark McKenna gave us final instructions, and I swear his showmanship goes up a notch every time I see the show. One thing different on this particular night: we had “APPLAUSE” instructions in the monitors for when they were going in and out of break, in addition to his script-whipping. Makes me wonder how often they have to sweeten those on a normal night.
TAPING TIME
Stephen stayed out to watch the ghost of Abraham Lincoln bit with us, sitting on the edge of his desk, and mouthing the words as he always does. I’ll never not enjoy watching him watch himself. (Though I immediately noticed he was wearing a different suit and tie in that piece, which is an unusual mistake for them.)
During the monologue, he set up the clips of Trump sniffling, and when they appeared on screen, he did a little fist pump. Guess that was a close one! During all the other clips, he enthusiastically smiled and nodded at Chris Licht (who reciprocated). They were both obviously thrilled with how it was going.
During the breaks, I really saw the evidence of Licht’s impact on the production. That “row of middle-age male asses” that I wrote about in my premiere review is no more. Instead, it’s Licht acting as the filter, leaving Stephen out of all the little notes and choices. Matt Lappin and Paul Dinello stepped out from behind their divider for a split second each. Tom Purcell sprinted halfway to Stephen’s desk maybe twice. And I didn’t see Barry Julien or the head writers even once. Nobody is up there except Licht, McKenna, hair and makeup, and what I assumed was a segment producer each time.
Rob Lowe’s undecided voter segment was great. He was standing in Stephen’s monologue spot, with a black drape covering him from the waist down so we wouldn’t see the Magic 8 Ball until he revealed it.
Later on, you would’ve seen a mid-commercial replay of what happened during the break that followed: Lowe, changing in the wings, ran out shirtless and whipped his t-shirt against Stephen’s desk – much to Stephen’s shock and delight. Not that there was any tension to break, but I think Stephen genuinely appreciated the spirit of it. Stephen watched the replay on his desk monitor, and there were more smiles and nods between him and Licht.
Rob Lowe’s segment ran a teeny bit long, judging by poor Mark’s very focused attempts to make Stephen wrap.
Before Kal Penn came out, Stephen ran backstage to say hello to him, which we then saw on the show’s Snapchat. He also stuck around after his segment and chatted with Stephen through much of the break.
My friend and I are both performers, and we’ve both done standup (she actually rushed to the taping straight from a show). We were probably more nervous for Emma Willmann than she was. It’s one thing to have to do a set on live television. It’s a whole other thing to be at the END of a live show, and knowing that if the show went long, you might have to cut on the fly. Most people don’t know that late night sets are meticulously constructed. What would happen?
What happened is that she killed. Stephen watched from his desk, and seemed to enjoy her set as much as we did.
During the final commercial break, Stephen came up the aisle to speak with the couple that was expecting, and shake their hands. I trust he was explaining that he didn’t have time to make their announcement, but he spoke with them for longer than that, perhaps sharing some parenting advice? It was classy as hell. My friend was wide-eyed, and even I – knowing full well what a decent guy he is – was impressed. Such a huge night for him, but he was still thinking about them.
He said his goodnights and exited (my mother was the only one who could spot me in the shot).
I was surprised that he came back out and down the aisle afterwards. He asked us how many of us thought Hillary won the debate. We applauded. He asked how many of us thought Trump won. Silence.
And he took one more question, which I forget. I know, I know, I hate me too.
He seemed to not want to get off stage, but he bid us goodnight and we filed out. (The piniata area was taped off so we couldn’t snag any candy on the way out.)
After a total of 6.5 hours of standing in one spot and then sitting in another, we desperately needed some pub grub and beer. Characters bar around the corner still had an open kitchen at that hour, and the patrons made for some creative backstory-writing on our part.
TAKEAWAYS
#1: seating location unfortunately makes a huge difference. The view of Stephen’s desk was great, but frankly, you lose so much of the vibe being back there. Not only is it the physical distance, but you’re also surrounded by people who really don’t care as much, and it makes it harder to get pumped up.
I wish the audience coordinators had the empathy to not deviate from their system on a whim. I’m sure 95% of the audience are typical casual viewers, and I appreciate how draining it must be to deal with their idiotic questions and inability to pay attention to the rules. It’s probably like being a flight attendant without ever getting to travel anywhere.
But they’re also dealing with people who planned and looked forward to this experience for months (or years). I hoard my vacation days and cut corners financially just so I can fly in for tapings every six months. Others travel farther, struggle more to budget, and may only ever have one shot at it. We are the people at the front of the line. The staff must know that.
Even taking the fairness out of it, it’s just logical to put the most dedicated people up front. Stephen feeds off the audience’s energy; why would you try to stifle that and hide his biggest fans in the back?
#2: Seeing Stephen’s connection with his audience through a new person’s eyes can be wonderful. I got to watch my friend experience exactly what I experienced 11 years ago when I saw Stephen perform live for the first time.
There was a moment during one commercial break where Stephen had nobody standing over him, no notes to review, no direction to take. He looked out at the audience blissfully, doing what I can only describe as drinking us in. That’s when my friend became a fan for life. Later, we ended up talking a lot about our respective performing endeavors, and how we both want to do more to make the same kind of connection he does. It may be premature to say, but I think he’ll prove to have a big impact on her as a creator, just as he did on me.
IN SUMMARY
A wonderful experience in spite of the seating evils, and great to see the show run so smoothly even on a high-pressure night. I’m both impressed and relieved that Stephen and his staff were in such high spirits. I’m 100% #TeamLicht, and I can’t wait to see what’s ahead for the show.