When ABC declared last week that Jimmy Kimmel’s late night show had been suspended “indefinitely,” many observers assumed this meant that he had been fired and his show canceled for good. Yet to anyone studied in show business, the announcement was clearly not the end of the story but the beginning of a negotiation that would take place first behind the cameras among agents and executives, and then in front of the rest of the world. It would be resolved in one of several ways, some more grim and ominous than others.
In one scenario, the show would return to business as usual after a cooling-off period with just a token mention of the controversy. Given President Trump’s expressed desire to punish those he sees as his critics and Mr. Kimmel’s irascible temperament, that seemed like the least likely outcome.
A more bracing possibility was that an irate Mr. Kimmel would either quit or retire, as his contract was nearly over. His final appearance on the show, pre-suspension, would mark him forever as a television martyr for free speech.
Believe it or not, a disappearance from the airwaves, driven off by government intimidation, was not the worst-case scenario. The most dire possibility was that ABC would lift the suspension but Mr. Kimmel would re-emerge as a cowed and castigated figure, successfully brought to heel. He would exist going forward as what one audience member, present at the taping of his return on Tuesday, referred to worrisomely as “a shadow of Jimmy.”
But when Mr. Kimmel returned on Tuesday, there was nothing shadowy or diminished about him. He did not apologize abjectly or rein himself in as a model for a chilling new form of tempered speech. Neither did he bound onstage and preen in triumph in a defiantly juvenile way. Instead he recognized every note that needed to be hit, and he hit them all with precision and impressive grace.
The show’s pretaped opening addressed head on both the controversy and the outsize expectations for Mr. Kimmel’s return. Once he took the stage to an extended standing ovation, he quoted the words of Jack Paar — “As I was saying before I was interrupted” — echoing a venerated host who’d also resumed after a censorship controversy.
Mr. Kimmel’s well-tempered monologue prioritized clarity, but not undue contrition. He acknowledged that his comments about the suspect in the killing of Charlie Kirk could have been misconstrued, and caused pain. He thanked those on both sides of the aisle, but particularly those on the political right whom he often spars with, who spoke up in defense of free speech. He name-checked Stephen Colbert several times — a friend whose show was canceled by CBS in what is widely seen in part as a move to placate the president — and whose fate seemed to presage the more abrupt possible end of his own show. He delivered a heartfelt acknowledgment to all the late night hosts, past and present, who’d stood up for him privately and publicly.
He became visibly emotional — as he has in the past during difficult, personal monologues — as he admired how Erika Kirk, Mr. Kirk’s widow, had publicly forgiven her husband’s alleged killer, and nodded to believing himself in “the teachings of Jesus.” He minimized his own importance in the larger issue while speaking eloquently about the very American value of free expression. And he made sure to deliver several lacerating jokes at the expense of the president that confirmed punches would not be pulled.
Over his 24 seasons as the host of “Jimmy Kimmel Live!,” Mr. Kimmel has evolved into more than another late night host; he’s risen to a role as a kind of statesman for Hollywood, as evidenced by his recurring role as the host of the Oscars telecast. During the Writers Guild of America strike in 2023, Mr. Kimmel helped organize several of his fellow late night hosts, including Mr. Colbert, Jimmy Fallon, Seth Meyers and John Oliver, for an impromptu podcast jokingly titled “Strike Force Five,” which supported their striking writing staffers. Some critics of Mr. Kimmel have observed how unlikely this arc seems for him, given that he came to prominence on “The Man Show,” a proudly puerile sketch show that debuted on Comedy Central in 1999. This free speech controversy, which he did not ask for but he has responded to expertly, only cements that stature moving forward.
A judicious response from the Trump administration would be to let this moment pass — as Mr. Kimmel pointed out, the controversy and the interest over his return would likely bring millions of new viewers to the show. Although the episode was blocked by two major television station groups that control more than 20 percent of ABC’s local affiliates, as of Wednesday morning the monologue was well on its way to being Mr. Kimmel’s most watched clip ever on YouTube.
At one point, Mr. Kimmel said, “But I don’t want to make this about me,” then joked that this is what people always say when they’re making it about themselves. Yet this moment ultimately wasn’t about Mr. Kimmel; it was about the principles that spurred everyone from David Letterman to Senator Ted Cruz to rally, in some form, to his defense. Those principles persist, slightly sullied but still intact, as of Tuesday night. Now we wait to see what Wednesday brings.
Adam Sternbergh is a culture editor for Opinion.
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