The Death of Broadcast-era Dependency: No One's Watching, and They're Not Coming Back

Late-night television had a good run. For decades, it was the cultural exhale at the end of the day - where politics got poked, celebrities pretended to relax, and advertisers threw big money at captive viewers half-asleep on their couches. It wasn’t just entertainment. It was ritual.

And that ritual is over.

The recent cancellation of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert didn’t just end a program—it put a bullet in the format. And before anyone chimes in with "ratings were strong," let’s not pretend that matters anymore. The economics have shifted. The audience has scattered. Advertisers are moving on.

Colbert, for all his influence and polish, became a liability the moment the network got nervous—politically, financially, optically. Whether it was the Trump settlement rant or just a bloated budget doesn’t really matter. What matters is this: being great at the job wasn’t enough to save it.

And that’s a lesson voice actors would do well to absorb.

Because while we’re not the ones behind the desk or under the studio lights, we are part of the same media ecosystem. We lend our voices to promos, commercials, cold opens, warm closes, bumpers, podcasts, streaming content, and whatever hybrid Frankenstein media thing shows up next in our inboxes. And if you’re still aiming for work that depends on the existence of traditional media structures, you’re betting on a horse that’s already been turned into glue.

Late-night TV was built on consistency and control. It aired at a set time. It reached a broad demo. It offered predictable value to advertisers and studios alike. Voice actors who came up through that era were taught to think the same way: polish your read, find your tone, stay in your lane, wait your turn.

But that mindset doesn’t fly anymore. There is no schedule. There is no guaranteed audience. Hell, there’s barely a format. What we’ve got now is short-form chaos - a noisy, scattered, never-ending scroll of micro-content, reaction clips, AI-generated noise, and emotionally triggered engagement bait.

That’s the new world, folks. Uncomfortable? Good. Get uncomfortable faster than everyone else.

The death of late-night isn’t just a media story. It’s a professional warning shot. Because if a well-funded, top-rated, culturally relevant show with a massive built-in audience can be pulled off air overnight, then what’s keeping your next gig safe? Not your range. Not your gear. And certainly not your agent.

What will keep you in the game is adaptability.

Voice actors who thrive in this mess are the ones who’ve stopped chasing legacy gigs and started paying attention to what’s actually being made, and why. They’re tuning their skills to fit tighter formats, faster turnarounds, and more direct communication. They’re not auditioning for what used to be. They’re building for what’s next.

We’ve all seen the shift: Podcasts overtaking talk shows. YouTube channels with more influence than network anchors. A 10-second Instagram reel doing more brand work than a 60 second Super Bowl spot ever could. None of this is theoretical. It’s already happening.

So as a voice actor, what’s your role in it?

Stop waiting for the call to come from the old guard. Make sure your reads land in formats that still have a pulse. You keep your storytelling sharp, your instincts sharper, and your understanding of the industry sharper still. And if you’re not asking why things are shifting - only when they’ll go back to normal - you’re going to get left behind.

Colbert’s not the problem. And voiceover work isn’t disappearing. But the scaffolding that held it all up - the scheduled blocks, structured tiers and comforting hierarchy of who gets heard - is collapsing.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Rob Marley is a veteran voice actor and coach who lends his voice to brands that still give a damn about connecting with people. His website is MarleyAudio.com