For decades, the late-night talk show was considered one of television’s most coveted gigs — a cultural throne occupied by legends like Johnny Carson, David Letterman, and Jay Leno.
But in 2023 and 2024, the once-glittering pipeline for new hosts has ground to a halt, leaving two of the biggest stages in American television without permanent leaders — and sparking fears that the late-night format itself may be in irreversible decline.
When James Corden signed off from The Late Late Show in April 2023 after eight years, CBS stunned industry watchers by announcing it would not replace him with another traditional late-night host.
Instead, the network opted to fill the slot with a reboot of the game show @midnight. The decision sent shockwaves through the entertainment world.
“It’s not that they couldn’t find a replacement,” one former CBS executive said. “It’s that they didn’t think the role was worth replacing at all.”
Meanwhile, over at Comedy Central, Trevor Noah’s surprise announcement in September 2022 that he would leave The Daily Show after seven years set off a months-long experiment with rotating guest hosts, from comedians like Sarah Silverman and Hasan Minhaj to nontraditional picks like Leslie Jones and Kal Penn.
But as of August 2024, the network has yet to name a permanent replacement.
Rumors have swirled about potential frontrunners, but according to insiders, hesitation comes from both sides: the network is wary of locking into a long-term contract in a changing media landscape, and top talent is skeptical about taking on a role that may no longer guarantee cultural relevance.
The problem isn’t just finding the right personality — it’s the shifting habits of the audience.
For Gen Z, the concept of staying up until 11:30 p.m. to watch a network monologue feels outdated in the age of TikTok and YouTube.
Increasingly, late-night hosts are chasing viral clips rather than prioritizing the live broadcast, with some shows now getting more views online than they do on television.
“The job used to be about holding an audience night after night,” says a veteran producer. “Now it’s about getting people to click for 90 seconds the next morning.”
There’s also the question of whether the “late-night chair” has lost its cultural power. In the 1990s and early 2000s, hosting a late-night show could launch you into the media stratosphere.
Today, stars like John Oliver, who dominates Last Week Tonight on HBO, and Sean Evans of Hot Ones are reshaping the format outside traditional TV entirely — and often without the corporate constraints that come with a network gig.
Some point to the grueling nature of the role as another deterrent. Former hosts have spoken openly about the pressure to churn out fresh content nightly, manage large writing staffs, and maintain a likeable public persona — all while navigating an increasingly polarized political climate.
“One wrong joke, one bad interview, and you’re trending for the wrong reasons,” notes one current showrunner. “It’s a high-wire act, and the net is gone.”
Still, the industry hasn’t given up hope. Insiders say CBS is monitoring the performance of @midnight closely, and Comedy Central executives have hinted that The Daily Show will eventually settle on a new permanent host.
But even if they do, the landscape they’ll inherit is dramatically different from the one their predecessors ruled.
And so, the question looms: is late night experiencing a temporary talent drought, or is this the beginning of the end for one of television’s most iconic formats?
As the search drags on and the chairs stay empty, one truth is becoming harder to ignore — in 2024, the biggest late-night drama isn’t happening on stage, but in the desperate scramble to find someone willing to take the spotlight at all.
