On a recent broadcast of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, Stephen Colbert employed a simple but striking device: he played a clip of Donald Trump — and then he played it again.

The technique, understated and almost procedural, has become one of Mr. Colbert’s most recognizable responses to moments he deems extraordinary. In an era when late-night comedy often relies on rapid-fire punchlines and quick transitions, Mr. Colbert has instead chosen, at times, to slow the pace. When a remark by Mr. Trump appears particularly jarring, he pauses, raises a hand and asks for the tape to roll once more.

The effect is less about mockery than about insistence: Listen carefully.

The method was on display when Mr. Colbert revisited Mr. Trump’s description of a cognitive screening test he took while in office. In the original remarks, delivered during a 2020 interview, Mr. Trump recounted identifying images and repeating a sequence of words — “person, woman, man, camera, TV” — as evidence of his mental acuity. The telling was animated and proud; the phrase quickly entered the cultural lexicon.

When Mr. Colbert first aired the clip, the audience at the Ed Sullivan Theater laughed. The cadence, the unusual list of nouns and the self-congratulatory tone seemed ready-made for parody. But instead of following the laughter with a punchline, Mr. Colbert stopped the show.

“Play that again,” he said.

On the second viewing, the laughter thinned. What had initially sounded like a comic monologue took on a different weight. The repetition drew attention not to the rhythm of the words but to the underlying premise: that a sitting president was publicly celebrating his ability to identify common objects and recall a short sequence.

For Mr. Colbert, the replay serves as a form of editorial framing. Late-night television has long walked a line between entertainment and commentary, but as the political climate has grown more polarized, some hosts have expanded their role. Mr. Colbert, who assumed the desk in 2015, increasingly positions himself not only as a comedian but also as a curator of record — presenting statements in their unvarnished form and allowing viewers to sit with them.

The strategy stands in contrast to the conveyor-belt style typical of the genre: clip, joke, applause, next segment. By interrupting that rhythm, Mr. Colbert signals that a particular moment deserves scrutiny rather than simple ridicule.

He applied the same approach to other episodes from Mr. Trump’s public life. In one instance, he resurfaced archival footage in which Mr. Trump made a remark about his daughter, Ivanka Trump, saying that if she were not his daughter, he might be dating her. The comment, which had circulated previously, was played in full.

The studio fell quiet.

Mr. Colbert did not add a punchline. Instead, he asked for the clip to be played again. The repetition, stripped of commentary, filled the theater with an uneasy silence. In that pause, the host ceded the floor to the words themselves.

A similar moment occurred during the early months of the coronavirus pandemic. At an April 2020 White House briefing, Mr. Trump speculated about whether disinfectant might be injected into the body to combat Covid-19. The remark prompted immediate alarm from medical professionals and clarifications from administration officials. On his program, Mr. Colbert aired the footage and, once more, asked viewers to hear it again.

The device underscores a broader shift in late-night television during the Trump years. Comedy writers and performers have faced a challenge: how to satirize a political figure whose own statements often appear exaggerated. In some cases, adding a joke risks diluting the impact. By replaying clips verbatim, Mr. Colbert suggests that the material requires no embellishment.

Media analysts note that repetition can alter perception. The first viewing of a surprising statement may trigger laughter born of shock. The second can prompt reflection. In replaying the footage without alteration, Mr. Colbert removes the buffer that humor can provide, inviting audiences to confront the implications directly.

For Mr. Trump, whose political persona has long thrived on commanding attention and dominating the news cycle, the tactic can be disarming. Rather than reframing his remarks through impersonation or caricature, Mr. Colbert holds them in place. The spotlight does not shift; it lingers.

The approach also reflects the evolving role of late-night hosts as participants in the national conversation. While earlier generations often avoided sustained political critique, contemporary hosts operate in a media environment where viewers increasingly turn to entertainment programs for news-adjacent commentary. Mr. Colbert’s program, in particular, has blended monologue, interview and editorial into a hybrid format.

Whether the replay technique changes minds is difficult to measure. But its persistence suggests that Mr. Colbert sees value in resisting the urge to rush past moments that feel destabilizing. In an age of constant scroll and fleeting outrage, asking an audience to watch again can itself be a statement.

There is, as Mr. Colbert’s practice implies, a difference between a joke and a warning. By replaying certain clips, he appears to argue that some words — especially those spoken from the highest office in the land — merit more than a laugh. They merit attention.