Shadduparready and let the guest talk

Having done a few radio shows, I know that managing a guest can be a bit touchy. You want them to talk in ways and on subjects that will entertain your audience. You don’t especially want them to take time to flog their new CD/movie/book because that’s what you’re supposed to do — quickly and succintly, but still — in the intro and outro to your guest segment. And if they’re from the public sector, you sure as hell don’t want them propagandizing on your show. Not only does the government not have any right to do that, it also will almost certainly put your audience to sleep, thereby causing your ratings to plunge to Great Rift depths, leading to your termination, the layoffs of your co-workers and the sale of your station to some fascist gasbag.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, per se. But a lot of talk-show hosts are so worried about those consequences that at the first sign of a wandering guest, they’ll herd the guest back much more brusquely than need be or, worse, not let them talk at all.

Not having listened to many such shows on radio or TV (or YouTube) the past few years, I can’t say what the state of the industry is.

But here is what I can say: At least one talk-show host — David Letterman, as it happens — was competent, professional, discerning and kind enough to let Peter O’Toole, who might be the world’s greatest surviving raconteur, tell a very funny story that lasted close to 11 minutes. Eleven minutes goes by pretty quickly to the host, but it’s a lifetime to the audience … unless it’s filled correctly. That, O’Toole can handle almost literally in his sleep, and Letterman — who, as he has aged, has become much more about his show than about himself — was smart enough to let him do it.

I celebrate that. But I want more.

I’ve got an idea for a movie, and were I wealthy I would use my own money to get the thing made. What’s the movie? David Letterman. Peter O’Toole. A good supply of ice water. Either two or three cameras. That’s it. They can go 1:20 or 2:30, whatever they’re comfortable with, and as far as I’m concerned, they don’t even have to decide until after the cameras are rolling. (I see this as taking place on a set with a lot of rich dark greens, not Letterman’s usual digs. But I can’t explain why, and in any event that’s not a deal-breaker.) Not only do I know it would be a hit in its own right, it would be a remarkable cultural gift to people old enough to remember O’Toole’s now-dead comrades and the ethos from which O’Toole sprang and to people not yet born who one day will be old enough to appreciate the humor that goes down not like a six of Busch or a bottle of Cold Duck or even peppered vodka shots, but like serial sips of the best single-malt scotches.