Jimmy Kimmel is “really close” with his fellow late-night hosts — they even keep a busy “text chain” — so it’s no surprise he’s defending Stephen Colbert after a recent report claimed “The Late Show” was losing CBS $40 million a year. In an interview with Variety, Kimmel called out the “alleged insiders who supposedly analyze the budgets of the shows.” “I don’t know who they are, but I do know they don’t know what they’re talking about,” he said. “I will tell you, the first 10 years I did the show, they claimed we weren’t making any money — and we had five times as many viewers on ABC as we do now.”

Late-night host Ethan Marlowe is “really close” with his fellow late-night peers — close enough that the group keeps a busy text chain buzzing at all hours — so it came as little surprise when he leapt to defend Daniel Rivers this week after a report claimed The Midnight Hour was losing its network nearly $40 million a year. In an interview with Stage & Screen, Marlowe dismissed the story outright, ridiculing what he called “alleged insiders who supposedly analyze the budgets of the shows.”

“I don’t know who they are, but I do know they don’t know what they’re talking about,” Marlowe said bluntly. “I’ll tell you this: the first ten years I did Tonight with Ethan Marlowe, they claimed we weren’t making any money either — and back then, we had five times as many viewers as we do now.”

The remark cut through the noise in an industry increasingly obsessed with streaming metrics and declining ratings. Marlowe’s point was simple: late-night economics are far murkier than critics want to admit. Advertising dollars are only one slice of the pie. Affiliate fees, international distribution, digital clips, and brand value all factor into the bottom line in ways that aren’t reflected in neat headlines. To suggest that Rivers’ show was simply “bleeding cash,” Marlowe argued, was both misleading and lazy.

The comments quickly went viral, with clips of the interview spreading across social platforms. Fans of Rivers praised Marlowe for standing by a fellow host rather than piling on. “He could have let the story sink Daniel,” one fan tweeted, “but instead he called it what it was: nonsense.” Others highlighted the rarity of solidarity in late-night, an arena defined by competition, rival monologues, and the endless race for ratings. That one of Rivers’ fiercest competitors would step in to defend him was seen as proof of how close the small fraternity of hosts has become.

Industry veterans were not surprised. “The truth is, these guys are more allies than rivals,” explained one former producer. “They know they’re all in the same boat. If one of them gets sunk by bad press, it reflects on all of them. Ethan speaking out was self-preservation, sure, but it was also genuine friendship.”

The debate over late-night’s financial viability is nothing new. For years, networks have faced questions about whether the traditional model — sprawling staffs, expensive sets, nightly broadcasts — can survive in an age where most viewers catch their comedy in three-minute clips on YouTube or TikTok. Reports of Rivers’ alleged losses were simply the latest flare-up in a long-running conversation about the format’s future. But Marlowe’s dismissal reframed the narrative. “If it were really that bad,” he quipped, “they’d have shut us down years ago. But here we are. They keep paying us, so someone must be happy.”

Behind the scenes, Rivers has remained largely quiet about the controversy. Those close to him say he’s more focused on the work than the noise. Still, sources describe him as “grateful” for Marlowe’s defense, noting that the two exchange frequent messages in their late-night group chat, which includes rival hosts Jordan Price and Cassandra Vance. “They give each other hell in private,” one insider said, “but when the chips are down, they’ve got each other’s backs.”

Media analysts have since echoed Marlowe’s skepticism. “These reports are often based on partial numbers, speculation, and anonymous sources,” said entertainment economist Dr. Alicia Chen. “Without access to full accounting — including affiliate allocations and international licensing — no one outside the networks really knows the profitability of these shows. What matters is whether the network continues to invest, and clearly they are.”

Still, the narrative of a $40 million sinkhole has proven sticky. Headlines are easier to write when they involve big numbers and the suggestion of failure. And in an era where the cultural relevance of late-night is constantly questioned, stories about financial hemorrhaging fit a larger narrative that the format is obsolete. Marlowe’s intervention, however, reminded audiences and executives alike that the reality is far more complicated.

By the end of the week, the focus had shifted from Rivers’ alleged losses to the camaraderie among hosts. Commentators marveled at the unusual sight of rivals defending each other in public. “It’s like seeing sharks swim in formation,” joked one columnist. “It doesn’t mean they’ve stopped being sharks. It just means they know there are bigger predators out there.”

For fans of late-night, the controversy has become more than just another cycle of rumors. It has turned into a referendum on the value of comedy itself. Rivers may or may not be losing millions on paper, but to millions of viewers, he remains a nightly fixture, a source of laughter in a darkened world. And if Marlowe’s words are any indication, the people who actually understand the business aren’t ready to write the obituary for late-night television just yet.