COMMENTARY : What Makes Dave So Watchable? Let Us Count the Ways

Call it bad timing or bad luck.

But how ironic that “The Tonight Show” has strong ratings, that its writing is consistently sharp, that host Jay Leno is funnier and his hour of late-night comedy more creative and less predictable than ever. In other circumstances, everyone would be buzzing about him.

Competing with his nemesis, David Letterman, seems to have made Leno better. Always supremely adept at telling jokes while standing on a stage, Leno is now tapping areas of comedy that may be surprising even him. Bravo.

Yet just as Gehrig had Ruth and Pippen had Jordan, NBC’s Leno and “The Tonight Show” seem destined to be overshadowed, at least for now, by “Late Show With David Letterman” on CBS. Even when Leno soars, Letterman usually dunks right over him.

Leno obviously has lots of fans who prefer him to Letterman, but the pro-Dave army is larger, according to the Nielsens, and with good reason. No wonder more and more of the early-to-bed crowd are staying up to tune in at least part of “Late Show.” When you hear that intro after half an hour of idiotic local news--”Here he is, Da- vid Letterman”--your expectations rise dramatically.

Why is Letterman’s show so funny?

Oddly enough for a talk show, it appears to have little to do with the guests. In fact, it’s hard to recall many of them, to say nothing of what they’ve said or done in the host’s presence. What you do recall is the hour’s edge, its sense of danger (even though it takes fewer risks than his scruffier old NBC show did) and its magnificent absurdity. It’s the kind of practiced absurdity that Letterman has elevated to glossy art and that Leno has yet to master.

The highlight of last Monday night’s show, for example, was not a 12-year-old duck caller or Letterman’s mother stiffly checking in by satellite from the Winter Olympics in Lillehammer, a pretty fair farce of its own. It was Letterman giving an award to Charles Grodin for . . . for . . . for nothing.

Naturally, Grodin was overcome with emotion.

With the pomp of an Oscar presenter, Letterman opened a fancy envelope and called out the name of the surprised but euphoric Grodin, who had been seated in the audience. He bolted from his seat and rushed down the aisle toward Letterman, whom he thanked profusely before departing. Given that Grodin had worked so hard and long for this recognition, the honor was something to savor.

Cut to Regis Philbin in the audience, baffled and dejected, obviously disappointed that he hadn’t won. Well, perhaps next year.

It was a tiny blip of comedy, but one that acutely captured the essence of Letterman and set him apart from his late-night competitor on NBC--a brilliantly, hilariously written and executed spec of nonsense that affirmed “Late Show With David Letterman” as TV’s funniest show about nothing.