Carson. Letterman. O’Brien. Baira. Rahma. Williams. You may not recognize those last few names, but there’s a direct line between them and some late-night legends. They’re part of the wave of TikTok talk-show hosts who are remixing old-school late-night tropes — breezy interview segments, parlor games, silly characters — for a digital audience. Gone are hosts sitting behind bulky desks; the stars of the future are mics on the move.
“My job is to share the mess,” says Tiff Baira, host of the dating show Street Hearts, in which she coaches two complete strangers through an impromptu first “date” on a New York City sidewalk. Donning one of her signature sparkly, furry, and/or pink hats, Baira uses her charm to smooth over awkward moments and move the conversation along. “We’ve all cried about our ex in the back of an Uber. It’s OK!” she says. “No matter who you are, even if you are a big celebrity, there’s one thing we can all talk about. And that’s love.”
Baira’s show feels like a hybrid of two slightly earlier internet-era hits that emerged from the late-night-meets-cringe-comedy bloodline: Billy Eichner’s shouty 2010s masterpiece Billy on the Street and British comedian Amelia Dimoldenberg’s Chicken Shop Date. Both shows grew from focusing on mere mortals to featuring regular appearances by celebrities. Dimoldenberg’s flirty chats with Andrew Garfield have been dissected so much she’s now done interviews about their interviews. Similarly, Street Hearts has become a stop on the media circuit for some stars: Lil Nas X and Florence Pugh, among others, have appeared next to Baira’s microphone.
Much like their broadcast predecessors, as these creators draw more eyeballs with big-name guests, they also refine their hosting personas, becoming a cheery, reliable presence on people’s phones. “There’s this parasocial relationship — you feel like you’re with people you know,” says Anne Libera, an associate professor of comedy at Columbia College Chicago. “I’m going to show [this guest] as a fun person, and you’re going to see them, through me, as someone you trust.”
Shorter attention spans are driving even shorter content that can take comics — and one easily repeatable shtick — to a new life. There’s the music-trivia TikTok Track Star, which host and creator Jack Coyne operates like a snappy discography quiz show. Caleb Simpson’s apartment tours are a Gen Z version of MTV’s Cribs. And the genre has become so popular that entire production companies have sprung up with the sole purpose of turning creators with big followings into the next It talk-show host.
“If I was offered Fallon’s spot, I would say, why?” says Kareem Rahma, host of Subway Takes.
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Anania Williams was already a popular creator when she was approached by Mutuals Media. The company wanted a host for a street show that combined comedy with queer-history education. Williams, meanwhile, wanted to let people know that she was more than a drag queen with an iPhone. Enter Gaydar, which she describes as “gay roulette of a stranger freaking out” because they don’t know more about historic queer figures or community icons. “To be a good host, you have to roll with the punches,” she says. “[With] my intersection as a drag queen, a trans person, a Black person in America, I’m able to keep [things] moving forward and find the heart of what someone’s trying to say.”
This change isn’t limited to online content only — classic late-night shows are taking note. Clippable bits of traditional 60- or 90-minute programs have become a major aspect of the social strategies for The Tonight Show, The Late Show, and Late Night, even as real-time viewership declines. While shows that appear exclusively on social media often have an advantage in viewership, alternative media companies are benefiting from this new understanding of late night as well.
Kate Elliott*
Vic Michaels hosts Very Important People on the indie comedy streamer Dropout, a show that puts funny people like Bobby Moynihan and Chris Redd into detailed SFX makeup and asks them to make up their own character and backstory in an on-the-spot late-night format. VIP clips posted to TikTok average millions of views per post — drawing subscribers and acting like a reel for potential guests. “We’re basically convincing comedians to come be in hair and makeup for one to four hours and then come and do improv,” Michaels says. “It’s been a very cool way to interact with people and get them to watch the full show.”
Kareem Rahma, one of the most famous digital talk-show hosts, wears sunglasses and a tie when he clocks in as the host of Subway Takes, an ambitious short-form show where everyone from average New Yorkers to celebrities, influencers, and even vice-presidential candidates drop by to plug a project and spew a nonsensical take next to him (e.g., “Air travel should be treated like surgery” or “We should throw all chiropractors in prison”). With more than 1.6 million followers across platforms, Rahma is direct about why modern comedians are taking late-night’s style and making it work in their own way: It’s a better gig. “If I was offered Jimmy Fallon’s spot, I would say, why?” he says. “You have to show up five nights a week for the rest of your life and interview people that you don’t want to interview. Why would you want to do that?”
