Cherchez La Femme: Stephen Colbert

The 11:35 slot's new champ, Stephen Colbert, discusses comedy in the time of Trump, the magic of musical theater, and the brilliance of SpongeBob.

Wesley Mann

For nine seasons at Comedy Central, Stephen Colbert made his name playing a fictional blowhard mocking Washington with a wink and a wry smile. But now it's personal. As the host of The Late Show on CBS, he's dropped his act and picked up a machete, gleefully hacking away at the White House and refusing to apologize for it. Now that he's been in the seat for almost two years, his take-no-prisoners approach to late night is doing the impossible: finally challenging Jimmy Fallon's impressive run in the ratings. On weeks that Colbert's show wins in viewership, the 53-year-old host treats his staff to pizza. "I have the best job," he says. And he means it. The guy is as happy debating the existence of God with Ricky Gervais from behind the desk as he is running around New York City with comedian Billy Eichner asking strangers what it's like to live in a liberal New York bubble. His success wasn't preordained, though: Colbert—the youngest of 11 children—was raised in a devoutly Roman Catholic home and contemplated becoming a dramatic actor before falling in with the improv-comedy crowd at Chicago's Second City. Still a serious Catholic (and former Sunday school teacher), he now lives in New Jersey with his wife and three children—who are apparently allowed to watch as much TV as they want. With one catch.

ELLE: You once joked about driving through a toll without paying while yelling, "I'm Stephen Colbert!" Have you ever used your fame for personal gain?

Stephen Colbert: If I ever succumbed to the demon on my shoulder going, "You should get something special because you're famous," that is the moment that my behavior will be caught on social media for all time. I'm even afraid to use it to get a reservation. This is the person who will tweet, "Can you believe what this a-hole did?"

Tell me a funny story about your childhood.

You have to do your First Penance before your First Holy Communion. You're really young. What do you know? You've got nothing to confess. All I knew was that I was an evil human whose sins caused the death of our Lord.

"All you can do is point and laugh. Because the devil cannot abide mockery."

What did you confess?

I was probably mean to my sister or something. I don't remember exactly, but I screamed it. I was so nervous. I walked out after, and the kid sitting next to me in line said, "We heard your entire confession."

Let's talk politics.

I don't know a lot about politics. I like talking about human behavior. Politicians are funny to me because they often say one thing and behave a different way.

What's the appropriate response to hypocrisy?

The only response I can think of is mockery. Because [Trump] will not respond to reasoned argument. He will not be held accountable for the things he said. All you can do is point and laugh. Because the devil cannot abide mockery.

Do you feel a responsibility as a public moral intellectual?

Nope! I feel a responsibility to make jokes.

Steve Carell and Stephen Colbert

I was reading about your early days at Second City. I heard that women were crazy for Steve Carell. Is that true?

Who told you that?

I think Tina Fey said that once.

[Laughs] I would like a lawyer before I answer any more of these questions.

What were you like in those days?

I was a total stud. I had a string of 'em! Like polo ponies! [Laughs] What was I like? I was bookish. I weighed 135 pounds. I was an actor. I kind of still am an actor. What I'm doing now—this is the biggest departure from anything I've done in my life.

I saw you in 'Company' at Lincoln Center a few years ago. You were great.

To work with Mr. Sondheim.… When I first went off to do theater, I read the lyrics of his "Finishing the Hat" [from] to my mom to try to explain how I felt.

That song is about the need to make art, even when it's painful. Did she understand what you meant?

Oh, yeah. She wanted to be an actress. Then she got very ill. Her doctor was convinced she'd die. As soon as she recovered, my father asked her to marry him. Instead of going off to Carnegie Mellon, she got married and had 11 children. In some ways, I wanted to perform for my mother.

That's beautiful.

She taught all of us how to do things like faint onstage without hurting yourself. She'd do it in the kitchen. She'd crumple onto the ground with one arm laid out, like Cleopatra. Her mother wanted to be an actress, too. But her mother was born in 1884, when being an actress was one step above being a prostitute.

Does acting ever feel like prostitution?

When you're doing it right!

There was a blip a year ago when the public started doubting you. I imagine that was hard.

Yeah, but I don't read about myself. My darling wife does that for me. She curates everything. "Read this one, not that one." It's hard on her. She cares. But it is just a blip. I believe in my staff. And believing in them more is what actually made things better.

How did you introduce your kids to comedy?

I came in one day. My kids were watching—I don't know what it was—some young-preteen-kids-being-sassy show with a laugh track. I said, "Your father is a chef, and you're eating garbage!" I said, "You can watch as much SpongeBob as you want as long as you don't watch this."'

Why SpongeBob?

There are real characters with real consistent wants. Squidward is like a Shakespearean character. He's deeply venal but desperately wants to be loved. He's so complex.

This article originally appears in the July 2017 issue of ELLE.

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