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With his all-gums smile, flattop hairdo and exuberant, affable manner, Hall seems like an overgrown kid surveying a roomful of candy. His conversation is frank, unaffected, headlong. "When I'm on the air, I'm happy," he says, relaxing in his mirrored office on the Paramount lot, a muted TV set overhead tuned in to MTV. He is dressed in his typical off-hours duds: baseball cap, Reebok T shirt and unlaced sneakers. "I was born to do this. When I'm in the spotlight, I'm gone. I love it more than anything in the world. When everyone is barking and screaming, it's the best feeling I've ever felt, like a three- point jumper with one second left in the championship game against Boston. Better than an orgasm."
The show, for both good and ill, reflects that boyish, MTV-inspired energy. To his credit, Hall has shaken some of the dust off the stodgy talk-show format. His set has no desk; instead, Hall interviews guests on a modish chair-and-sofa ensemble, leaning forward intently. There is no Ed McMahon- style sidekick; Hall prefers to trade quips with the crowd or play around with the band in recurring bits like the "poetry moments," featuring various sidemen reading silly verse. Musically, the show has brought on a host of rock performers -- Kool Moe Dee, Living Colour, Winger -- who rarely get exposure on mainstream TV. And in contrast to the carefully stage-managed routines on the Tonight show, Hall's manic energy sends a signal that just about anything can happen at his nightly party. "There used to be a feeling that late at night people wanted to be put to sleep by a talk show," says producer Marla Kell Brown, 28. "But I don't think that's true for our generation. We want high energy."
Hall's one concession to talk-show tradition is to perform an opening monologue. His topical jokes are lame compared with Carson's or Jay Leno's, but he exposes himself in a way those cool satirists never do. Talking about Ralph Abernathy's book, in which the former civil rights leader made allegations about the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.'s sexual escapades, Hall barely disguised his anger. "He's just jealous," said Hall. "Probably hasn't been with three women in his life . . . Martin's still my hero. Right on!"
With guests, too, Hall often drops the reserve that talk hosts are supposed to maintain. Impulsive, sometimes off-color remarks frequently slip out. When actress Sally Kirkland told Hall she thought he was wonderful, he replied, "I can tell -- your nipples are hard." (Even Hall admits that one crossed the line.) An interview with filmmaker Spike Lee last June turned into a testy debate over remarks Lee had made criticizing Eddie Murphy for not helping blacks get more top jobs in Hollywood. "It takes time," said Hall, springing to his friend's defense. "And the change doesn't occur any quicker if you go to the Caucasian journalists looking to stir up conflict and tell them what you think about your black brother." (The dispute didn't end there. Lee later called Hall an Uncle Tom, and Hall canceled Lee's next appearance on the show. The two have since patched up their differences -- or at least agreed to keep them private.)