Finally. Someone who actually knows how to handle a room full of ego, Spanx, and crippling career anxiety.
When the Academy announced that Conan O’Brien would host the 97th Oscars, the collective sigh of relief from the comedy world was audible. For years, we’ve cycled through hosts who either seemed too cool for the room or genuinely terrified of the front row. But the Conan O’Brien Oscars monologue wasn’t just a comedy set; it was a masterclass in tonal tightrope walking.
He didn't play it safe. He didn't just lean on "isn't movies great?" platitudes. Honestly, the industry needed a jolt, and Conan’s lanky, chaotic energy was the exact caffeine hit the Dolby Theatre required.
The Return of the Professional Host
Hosting the Oscars is widely considered the worst job in Hollywood. You’re performing for a room of people who are mostly losing, while millions of people at home are waiting for you to trip over a gown or say something "problematic."
Conan approached the monologue with the confidence of a guy who has spent 30 years in the late-night trenches. He didn't need a gimmick. He didn't need a 10-minute musical number with dancers dressed as golden statuettes. He just needed a microphone and that signature, self-deprecating wit that makes him feel like the smartest guy in the room who is also somehow the biggest loser. It’s a trick. And he’s the only one who can pull it off.
Unlike previous years where the opening felt like a corporate retreat presentation, Conan’s arrival felt like an event. You’ve got to remember that this is a guy who thrived when NBC basically kicked him to the curb; he knows how to turn a tense situation into a punchline. That’s the secret sauce of the Conan O’Brien Oscars monologue. He treats the A-list stars like they’re human beings, which, in the context of an awards show, is actually quite radical.
Why the "Late Night" Polish Actually Matters
There’s been this weird trend lately of trying to move away from late-night hosts for the Oscars. We had the year with no host. We had the year with three hosts. We had the year with the "Slap," which we’re all collectively trying to forget.
But here’s the thing.
Monologue writing is a specific, dying art form.
A host needs to be able to read the energy of the room in real-time. If a joke about a three-hour historical epic bombs, a professional like Conan pivots. He acknowledges the silence. He makes the silence the joke. In this monologue, he managed to skew the self-seriousness of the "prestige film" while still honoring the craft. It’s a delicate balance. If you’re too mean, you’re Ricky Gervais (who is great, but polarizing). If you’re too nice, you’re a PR agent. Conan lives in that sweet spot where he’s mocking the absurdity of the entire spectacle while clearly being a massive fan of cinema.
Breaking Down the Highs and Lows
He started with the physical comedy. Of course he did. Seeing a 6'4" man with a ginger pompadour navigate a stage that large is inherently funny. But the meat of the Conan O’Brien Oscars monologue was the way he dissected the "Best Picture" nominees.
Usually, hosts just list the movies and make a pun about the title. Conan went deeper. He talked about the grueling nature of the industry—the endless press tours, the fake smiles, the "it’s just an honor to be nominated" lie that everyone tells.
One of the standout moments involved a bit about the sheer length of modern movies. He joked that by the time Killers of the Flower Moon finished, he’d actually aged into the demographic that the movie was about. It’s an old trope, sure, but he delivered it with such specific, manic energy that it felt fresh. He also avoided the trap of making the monologue a political stump speech. He kept the focus on the movies and the weirdos who make them.
Dealing With the A-Listers
You could see the cameras cutting to the front row. Usually, stars have this frozen, "please don't roast me" smile. But with Conan, the laughs looked genuine.
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Maybe it’s because he’s been interviewing these people for three decades. There’s a level of comfort there. When he poked fun at the massive budgets of certain blockbusters compared to the "catering budget" of the indie darlings, it didn't feel like a lecture. It felt like an observation from an insider.
It's also worth noting that Conan’s monologue didn't rely on "mean" humor. He didn't punch down. He mostly punched himself, or he punched the "System" with a capital S. That’s how you keep an audience on your side for a four-hour broadcast. You make yourself the butt of the joke first.
The Evolution of the Oscar Opener
For a long time, the Academy tried to "youth-ify" the show. They wanted TikTok stars or viral sensations. They wanted "moments."
What they forgot is that the Oscars are fundamentally a legacy product. It’s about history. Conan O’Brien represents a bridge between the classic era of Johnny Carson and the modern era of podcasting and digital shorts. His monologue reflected that. It had the structure of a classic monologue but the sensibilities of someone who understands why people watch clips on YouTube the next morning.
The pacing was frantic but controlled. He didn't linger too long on any one topic. If a joke didn't land—and let's be real, in a room that stiff, some jokes won't—he moved on immediately.
- Pacing: Fast, rhythmic, almost musical.
- Subject Matter: A mix of industry inside baseball and "relatable" viewer complaints.
- Delivery: Manic, self-effacing, and high-energy.
Honestly, the Conan O’Brien Oscars monologue will likely be remembered as the moment the Academy realized that "boring" isn't a requirement for "prestige." You can have a host who is actually funny without being a liability.
What This Means for the Future of the Academy Awards
The ratings for awards shows have been in a tailspin for years. People are tired of the lectures. They're tired of the billionaire actors telling them how to live. Conan’s approach was a total 180 from that. He focused on the entertainment aspect of the entertainment industry.
By the time he transitioned into the first award of the night, the room felt lighter. That is the primary job of the monologue: to lower the blood pressure of the nominees and raise the engagement of the folks at home.
He didn't try to "save" cinema. He just tried to make us laugh at it for fifteen minutes.
And it worked.
The success of this monologue probably means we’re going to see a return to the "Pro Host" era. No more "host by committee." No more "no-host" experiments. The Academy needs a captain, and Conan proved that a veteran with a sharp tongue and a weird haircut is exactly what the doctor ordered.
The Impact on the Industry
Expect other awards shows—the Emmys, the Globes—to follow suit. They’ve seen that you don't need a massive viral stunt to get people talking. You just need good writing and a performer who isn't afraid of a silent room.
Conan’s writing team, many of whom have been with him since the Late Night and TBS days, clearly put in the work. The jokes weren't "Twitter jokes" that feel dated by the time they're spoken. They were structural comedy.
Practical Takeaways for Future Hosts
If you’re ever tasked with hosting a room full of people who haven't eaten since Tuesday because they wanted to fit into their tuxedos, take a page out of the Conan playbook.
- Acknowledge the Elephant: If something is weird, say it’s weird. Don't pretend the 97th Oscars is a normal way to spend a Sunday.
- Self-Deprecation is a Shield: If you make fun of your own failures, no one can get mad when you point out theirs.
- Keep it Moving: A monologue is a train, not a bus. Don't wait for everyone to get on. Just keep driving.
The Conan O’Brien Oscars monologue didn't just set the tone for the night; it reminded us why we liked this show in the first place. It’s supposed to be a celebration, sure, but it’s also supposed to be fun. And for the first time in a long time, the Oscars actually felt fun.
If you're looking to study the craft of the monologue, go back and watch his transitions. Notice how he uses his hands. Notice how he uses the space on the stage. It’s a physical performance as much as a verbal one.
The Academy got lucky this year. They found a host who was bigger than the nerves of the room. Now, the only question is whether they can convince him to come back and do it all over again next year. Given how much he seemed to enjoy deconstructing the whole thing, don't hold your breath—but we can certainly hope.
To really understand the impact, look at the social media sentiment. Usually, the morning after the Oscars is filled with "Who was that?" or "That was awkward." This time? It's all about the redheaded guy who finally made the Oscars watchable again.
Moving Forward
To get the most out of this new era of awards hosting, pay attention to the writers' credits on these shows. You’ll start to see a shift toward veteran comedy writers who prioritize the "joke" over the "message."
If you're a fan of Conan, his podcast Conan O'Brien Needs a Friend will likely have the "behind the scenes" breakdown of how this monologue came together. It’s always worth a listen to hear him talk about the anxiety of the "bomb" and the high of a joke that lands perfectly.
The 97th Academy Awards won't be remembered for a scandal or a mistake. It’ll be remembered as the year Conan O'Brien saved the monologue from its own self-importance.