In June 2009, O’Brien graduated from Late Night on NBC, replacing Jay Leno on the Tonight Show and knocking him back to an ill-conceived 10 PM slot; seven months later, due to poor ratings all around and complaints from NBC affiliates, Leno’s show was moved back to 11:35 PM, and O’Brien was asked to take a 12:05 AM slot. He refused, pointing out that an after-midnight slot isn’t “the Tonight show,” and walked away with $45 million. Not too shabby—most of us would have jumped at such an opportunity, and we wouldn’t get squat if we turned it down. But as the movie makes clear, Conan O’Brien is a wreck without an audience. When the filmmakers ask him if he’s ever happy out of the spotlight, he glares at them, and he doesn’t seem to be joking around. For the first time, Conan’s freakish height, his chuckle-under-the-breath Irish humor—laced with contempt even when goofily self-mocking—is more intimidating than funny.