Conan O'Brien Must Go review: Max's travel show will delight Coco fans
Conan heads to Norway, Thailand, Argentina, and Ireland to weird out the locals and play dress-up

Sure, this lanky redhead has spent the bulk of his career talking to people from behind a desk, beginning with Late Night With Conan O’Brien in 1993 and continuing now with his podcast Conan O’Brien Needs A Friend, but his remotes have remained some of the most lasting bits from his run (thanks in part to the popularity of his YouTube channel). Throughout his late-night tenure, he was known to spend a week or so in some new city, or even other parts of the world, to spin globetrotting comedy gold, allowing him to engage in such gags as messing with fans in Finland or playing old-timey baseball, fully costumed, at Old Bethpage Village Restoration. He even toured after his brief Tonight Show gig, which resulted in the documentary Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop. Now, following up on the success of the Emmy Award-winning collection of his international remotes Conan Without Borders, the man gets to leave the confines of his podcast studio for some new adventures in Conan O’Brien Must Go, all four episodes of which drop April 18 on Max.
Straight from COMG’s opening, with its stunning aerial videography and clips of Conan’s antics set to a Werner Herzog voiceover, we see precisely what we’re going to get: freewheeling foolishness courtesy of Conan. There will be obligatory food-tasting, dress-up sight gags galore, and, all the while, our hero will wield the full instrument of his pale, long-limbed form as only he can, to draw laughter or disgust from all who behold him, “the defiler” of “the astounding grandeur of this planet,” as Herzog calls him. For his fans, at home and on screen, this brings clear delight. Each country he visits is home to folks he has “met” before through the “Conan O’Brien Needs A Fan” portion of his podcast. Missed out on those particular episodes? No worries. We’re shown short clips of their initial interactions, the fans’ faces broadcast via Zoom onto mounted monitors in-studio as they chat with Conan and his co-hosts.
In reality-show style, he surprises each fan at their home (or in one specific case, her work at a climbing gym). Their reactions vary in scale, from apparent elation to confusion, and there’s probably some cultural variation at play in their responses. Still, all seem pleased to have him around in the end—even if he’s digging through their cabinets (as we’ve seen him do to Jordan Schlansky, who shows up in the Argentina episode) or working out on their bench press, their mom slapping his cheeks as he lifts. He’s affable, to be sure, and self-aware enough to turn self-deprecating when his bits appear to grate on the nerves of the shopkeepers and well-meaning townspeople who seem to be less in on the joke. However, those moments can toe that line between cringe comedy and outright discomfort. He is, after all, an American, leaning into the stereotype of his ilk being “loud” and “[taking] up a lot of space,” in the words of his Argentinian translator/cultural consultant. That’s not exactly an experience people love to have foisted upon them in their own land, and the show works best when the participants seem into it.