In moments of national or global tragedy, late night TV has always struggled to strike exactly the right tone -- knowing that “exactly right” is unattainable. “Saturday Night Live,” for example, began its delayed 27th season on Sept. 29, in 2001, with Lorne Michaels asking of Rudolph Giuliani, “can we be funny?,” and the mayor responding: “Why start now?” David Letterman returned Sept. 18, eschewing jokes, embracing emotion, and in the process created the most memorable edition of a 33-year career. Jon Stewart raged Lear-like at the horror in Charleston. He had a different tone in the show after the Boston marathon attacks: “I'm just going to say this to Boston: Thank you. Thank you for once again, in the face of gross inhumanity, inspiring and solidifying my belief in humanity and the people of this country."

So how would late night respond to the attacks in Paris? Tone is essential, timing tricky. The attacks happened just as shows like “The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon” and “Late Show with Stephen Colbert” were in the middle of Friday tapings. An in-show response, even an impromptu one, would be impossible and impracticable, because events and facts would easily outrun any observation the host could make. Likewise, “SNL” had already wrapped details for the Elizabeth Banks edition by late Friday, and to tear that edition apart to address Paris in a substantive way was also next to impossible.

Instead, the late night reaction spanned a range of emotions and approaches: From fury (John Oliver) to solidarity (“SNL”), from instant reaction (Stephen Colbert) to instant pontificating (Bill Maher). Bill Maher's "Real Time with Bill Maher" had to make the quickest adjustment, and did -- the show went live Friday at around 7 p.m., west coast time, or more than five hours after the attacks began.

The host began a statement of support, by singing -- off-key -- a few bars of the La Marseillaise, then saying, "Now, I'm not a very good singer, but that's my way of saying we're with 'ya." He later led a panel discussion with former MSNBC host Dylan Rattigan, MSNBC analyst and former chair of the National Republican Committee Michael Steele and Jay Leno that essentially revolved around the question,which Maher asked, "why do they [Muslim terrorists] hate us."

Acknowledging that he and the panel didn't "have all the facts," they still plowed ahead Problem with the Maher approach Friday -- which was more debate than comedy -- is that he was right about not having the facts, and by showtime, he arguably had almost none of them. That left the panel and show groping for understanding and finding none. Maher fell back to his default position, well known to fans and viewers. That hardly helped to explain what had just happened in Paris, and instead the Paris tragedy was used to support a political opinion.

Colbert avoided that trap. The audience had left by the time more details of the attack had begun to emerge,, and Colbert had the presence of mind -- and sound instinct too -- to tape one last post-script, addressing what had just happened. He knew that anyone watching late Friday night would have only one thing on their mind, and this would be that one thing. Colbert fans know he is fundamentally decent, and this was the sort of decency they'd expect from him, and got it. His tone was mournful and resigned, also genuine. Colbert’s not a furious comic by nature -- but John Oliver is.

During Sunday’s "Last Week Tonight with John Oliver," the host did warn of the fusillade he was about to unload: "It's hardly been 48 hours and while much still is unknown, a few things we can still say for certain and this is when it actually helps to be on HBO where those things can be said without restraints. After the many necessary and appropriate moments of silence, I'd like to offer you a moment of premium cable profanity..."

And so he did. As his fans know so well, Oliver is especially gifted at comedy-as-bludgeon. Comedy is fury --fury at the stupidity of the world, or the vapidity of human vanities -- but fury unleashed at the basest of sub-human activities, accessorized with words that are expressly designed to disembowel the targets, seemed about right under these circumstances.

Oliver is master of the approach, and his Sunday "commentary" was perfect. 

Then, "Saturday Night Live.” Vacating the cold open, “SNL” went only with a statement by Cecily Strong. This was the middle-ground approach and the measured one. No fury, no “analysis,” no comedy either. Spoken almost entirely in French, Strong restated New York's ties to the "City of Lights," and how New York will always stand with Paris.

Coming as it did at the beginning of "SNL," where cold opens rule, it had real impact and emotional resonance. New York and Paris do obviously have deep and historic ties, and a profound emotional bond represented by the most famous statue in the world. Her French was flawless. She looked into the camera, and spoke with clarity but also with power.

And so “SNL’s” approach was best of all -- a direct salute from the show that symbolizes the city of New York. As Letterman long ago proved, and Stewart too, late comedy and tragedy only mix when the heart does the speaking.

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