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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Major Overhaul Jay Leno Has Revamped The Look, Content Of The ‘Tonight Show’ To Make It More His Own

Steve Johnson Chicago Tribune

This is not your father’s “Tonight Show.”

The comfortable, creaking old car that Johnny Carson tooled around in finally has been given a major overhaul in this, the third year of the shaky reign of Jay Leno.

It starts with the nightly introductory sequence, a series of hip-L.A. street scenes actually shot from an automobile (and reminiscent of “Saturday Night Live’s” intro, a curious parallel for any comedy program to want to draw).

In place of a set dominated by enormous plush curtains, there is a new one in a new studio that brings to mind the death of a forest. Trees - felled, trimmed, sanded and stained - are everywhere.

Instead of Johnny or Jay emerging from the curtains, Leno seemingly is thrust onto stage each night from a pinball-chute of a hallway. He strides down into the crowd, where a wooden peninsula serves as the platform for his lengthened and much sharper monologues, increasingly the whole point of the show.

“You know,” Leno said during a recent interview in the exclusive back room at Chicago’s Mr. Beef restaurant, “I can sort of reach out and slap people in the front row now, which is what I like.”

If it all looks a little like a high-rent version of one of the myriad “One Night Stand in an Evening at the Zany Improv” programs, the effect is intentional.

Leno says the changes were necessary for him to feel at home.

The content has changed, too. In the early days of his winning the seat, the show was simply bland, evidencing almost none of the anger at life’s absurdities that had propelled Leno’s extraordinary standup work.

Then Leno went through a period of trying too hard; his writers tried to push the talk show envelope a la David Letterman’s and even Conan O’Brien’s, but it just fell painfully flat. Meantime, NBC’s heavy show promotions carried an air of desperation.

Now “Tonight” seems to be emerging - haltingly - from that era. In recent weeks, the monologues have crackled with a new, aggressive edge. (Sample, from after President Clinton played a well publicized round of golf: “When the White House heard that Bill Clinton was involved in a foursome, out of force of habit, they issued a denial.”)

And part of the new format includes an increased reliance on taped bits, where the host and film crew venture forth to try to find comedy - though results have been thus far uneven.

Taping (and offering a thank you to one of the cities where Leno beats CBS’ Letterman in the ratings) was what brought Leno to Chicago on a painfully cold February weekend.

On a Saturday morning, he and crew visited the Fannie May chocolate factory, where Leno’s renowned nice-guy persona was very much in evidence. Indeed, the introductory meeting with white-coated chocolate executives saw Leno having to foam the runway for a planned bit.

After gorging himself on Pixies and Trinidads, he would leave the factory wearing under his clothes a fat suit, one that necessitated jeans with a 70-inch waistband.

The execs were apparently concerned this growth spurt would reflect badly on chocolate, and Leno was heard saying things like “it’s so over the top,” “it’s not like an expose,” and “it’s … essentially an ad for the product.”

Even after the officials came around, Leno was still stroking. “I just want you to be comfortable,” he said. “I’m not trying to trick anybody.”

Later, after eating a Mr. Beef lunch, he explained that “Tonight,” in his view, “has gone from a talk show to more of a comedy-variety show.”

“The first guest used to come out at quarter to 12 (Eastern). Now the first guest comes out at five after.”

In his familiarity, it’s easy to forget how unusual Leno is on late night TV. Instead of a smooth midwesterner like Carson or even Letterman, he’s an ethnic-looking guy from the Northeast with a strong accent, poor enunciation, and a jaw that looks like a children’s plaything.

His instinct to rely on what got him the coveted chair - comedy - is good. But the show, even as it has become much more enjoyable, still is not firing on all cylinders. It’s a bad sign for comedians when crowds applaud jokes more than they laugh at them; something in that new studio - overaggressive applause signs? - is making sustained clapping the first response to even the funniest jokes.

Waiting for the applause to die down, Leno spends an awful lot of time chuckling and grinning, like he’s trying to show America that he’s the pleasant alternative to that sometimes nasty other guy - something that is evident enough during his wisely downplayed, usually lukewarm celebrity interviews. A session with Uma Thurman last week was particularly weak, as both fumbled to try to understand one another.

Still, competitor Letterman and his profound ironic detachment are not for everybody. It’s encouraging for viewers - especially those who value sincerity and hard work - that Leno and his show are gaining the confidence that make him a worthwhile alternative.