Better late with Letterman than never

We're only 20 years behind the times as Prime brings New Zealanders a nightly dose of the world's most popular and anarchic chat show. ROGER FRANKLIN helps Kiwis catch up with David Letterman.

Every so often, even though they've had a full 20 years to figure out The Late Show with David Letterman, some social theorist settles down in front of the TV and sees a whole lot more than the rest of us.

Stop laughing, they write in books and learned papers, this guy is serious stuff.

For the low-browed sofa spuds to whom Letterman is simply "Dave" — a global audience that may run to 50 million fans on any given night — it's pretty straightforward.

Just as it has been since February 1, 1982, when a tall, thin, dorky-looking guy in a sharp, double-breasted suit and sneakers stepped into the spotlight.

The former TV weatherman and not-terribly-successful stand-up comic was just 34, and the promise of his first, decidedly off-kilter monologue was that, even though the show would be going to air half-an-hour after midnight, he would make it worth everyone's while to stay up late.

See Dave throw squishy things off tall buildings and hear the audience roar. Cant your head to one side while the camera rotates until he is hanging upside-down behind an inverted desk. Marvel as Dave dons a velcro suit and sticks himself to the wall.

Wonder why it's funny when Dave surrenders the microphone to the "Jerry Lewis of Peru", who jabbers away in high-speed Spanish while the crew debates the merits of various soups. Guffaw when the Stupid Pet Tricks segment features a man whose dog drags its butt along the floor while the band plays 76 Trombones.

"Influenced by absurdism, Letterman immediately took the formulas of television and cinema beyond their logical conclusions," says Carl Matheson, author of The Simpsons and Philosophy: The D'oh of Homer, who defines the talk-show host as a "quotational" figure, one whose "hyper-ironic" humour works because he bounces it off the touchstones of popular culture."

But what of the word on the street? Precisely, the strip of Broadway just north of Times Square where Letterman puts his show together in the theatre that was once home to Ed Sullivan.

Late on a recent Monday afternoon, an hour before Letterman was set to begin taping the show that would air later that evening, Dave's faithful was reporting to the box office.

Excited at the prospect of seeing their idol in the flesh, many were sharing favourite moments and were more than happy to explain the appeal.

"I just love him," gushed Sharon, a 40-something woman who explained that it had taken her two years to get her tickets, and that she had spent $US1000 ($2300) flying with her husband all the way from Arizona. "I guess I've grown up with Dave. He means an awful lot to me."

Other fans recalled favourite moments. "What about the night he had Farrah Fawcett on and she was off her face? Man, she was wasted, 100 per cent wasted."

"Madonna was worse — remember all those bleeps? She made Cher look good." That took some topping, because Cher hadn't expected to be teamed up with former husband Sonny Bono and was livid at being forced to reprise their hit I Got You, Babe. It was Letterman's way of paying her back for calling him an obscenity during an earlier appearance.

Madonna toyed with one of her host's big, fat cigars while using the F-word as a substitute for punctuation.

One night he staged a "birth-off" between two women in labour to see who would deliver first and hired WWF honcho Vince McMahon to call the race.

Letterman insists on keeping his private life opaque. He goes for years without granting an extended interview and, when he does sit down with a reporter, almost always declines to speak in any depth about himself.

He'll rant about cops, who have pulled him over for speeding so many times that CBS took to sending a chauffeur to pick him up so they could be sure he would end up at the studio rather than a Connecticut police station. Or he'll lampoon his former bosses at NBC, who snubbed Letterman's dream and gave Johnny Carson's job to Jay Leno.

Two years ago he had emergency bypass surgery that may well have saved his life. Some critics say he returned a little more humble, just a bit more human, after his brush with mortality.

The show certainly became more sedate after that, a trend that seems to have continued since September 11. Some Letterman buffs think those events softened the cruel, sarcastic edge of his wit.

"It used to be that Dave was mean to everybody — he would skewer Bo Derek, then turn around and skewer the guy on the street," social analyst Gareth Cook commented.

"These days, Dave is nice to his guests — at times almost unctuous. He saves his wit for his favourite foil: the earnest, often ignorant, working-class guy. He'll have someone go into McDonalds to see how the poor slobs react to somebody ordering a 'five-pounder' instead of a 'quarter-pounder'."

The softer touch worked with Nicole Kidman, who explained how her life had changed after splitting with Tom Cruise. "I can wear heels now," she gushed when Letterman asked about the singles scene.

Oprah Winfrey, however, has suffered vicious laceration for months on end for her refusal to go on his show.

So where does he go from here? His contract is up for renewal this year and there has been speculation that, unless he gets the $30 million a year he is rumoured to be demanding, he might call it quits.

There is a precedent if that is his choice: hero and mentor Johnny Carson, who could have remained on air indefinitely but chose to go out on top.