tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33776203483146740512024-03-15T19:28:50.754-05:00Unfunny Guy Talks About Funny ShowGUMBALL // FINAL SPACE // SUMMER CAMP ISLAND // VINTAGE SNLMattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.comBlogger230125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-2126816118924367322023-10-14T16:55:00.003-05:002023-10-21T12:57:29.685-05:00Saturday Night Live, Ranked and Reviewed: Season 12<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"What's the word on the street?"</span></i></b></p><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">--</div>
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<p>Having endured one of the most disastrous seasons of its entire run, SNL pulled one of the greatest tricks in its playbook: make the audience forget about last year with some dramatic course-correction. With Jon Lovitz, Nora Dunn, and Dennis Miller being the lucky (if unsurprising) few to evade the chopping block over the summer break, the show decided to match their comedy chops with a cast who would have guaranteed success with the art-form, prioritizing known talent over the botched optimism of Season 11's efforts to harness celebrity or bring alternative talent to center-stage. Goodbye, young Robert Downey Jr. and Anthony Michael Hall—welcome, 38 year-old Groundlings stalwart Phil Hartman! Farewell to Terry Sweeney from the world of cabaret, and Danitra Vance from the world of experimental theater—hello, Dana Carvey, Kevin Nealon, and Victoria Jackson from the stand-up circuit! Jan Hooks from the Atlanta-based sketch show <i>Tush</i> rounds out the cast, securing the spot that she initially lost to Joan Cusack the year before in one of SNL's rare examples of righting a wrong. </p><p>It was a cast poised for success, and fortunately, as history would demonstrate, they found it. But how is their very first season? Come along, dear reader, and let's find out together!</p>
<p>For my reviews of the previous season, Season 11, <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">CLICK HERE</a>!</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/11/86: Sigourney Weaver (S12E01)</b></p>
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<p>
How fortunate for SNL to be able to trace <i>Dallas'</i> legendarily awful
cliffhanger perfectly from the previous season's finale to this season's
premiere. After abandoning the last cast in a blazing inferno, Season 12
begins with Madonna reading a statement concerning the entirety of the
previous year: "It was all a dream. A horrible, horrible dream." With only
three performers evading the chopping block over the summer (Jon, Nora, and
Dennis), Lorne worked hard to vanquish the specter of the previous season's
failings, and while much of the writer's room was spared, the rest of the cast
was entirely reconstructed, with Lorne wisely seeking out relative unknowns
with sketch experience to rebuild SNL from the ground up. Whereas Season 11
couched its intent to rebrand the show with a sense of gaudy excess, Season 12
feels comparatively stripped down—a return to basics, if you will.
</p>
<p>
It's interesting to note all of the subtle shifts the show has taken between
the seasons to retool itself. The extravagant movie theater set that served as
last season's mainstage has been swapped for an upscale, mildly dilapidated
ballroom, and it feels like it mirrors the subtler shifts in the show's
writing. Whereas last season had more of a pop culture slant, the season
premiere suggests more erudite leanings for the show; what references we had
to Madonna and Sean Penn's marriage in the previous premiere have been
replaced by, of all things, a piss-take on Berthold Brecht and German
Expressionist theater. The cast, once a scrappy gang of misfits, is now
uniformly yuppie and tight-knit, too. There are some natural downsides to the
fact that we also have an all-white cast, and we'll be stuck with that lack of
diversity for a while, but the sheer strength from them that's already on
display is hard to argue with. It's ironic that the new opening montage
instates warbling television static as a significant part of this era's
aesthetic; this is the first cast of the show comprised of people who were
truly fans of SNL in its earliest years, and perhaps were profoundly impacted
by it, and now it's their turn to run the show.
</p>
<p>
It's funny, though, how unassumingly this episode starts, especially for how
much of a radical shift the cold open would like to forecast. Like the last stretch
of Season 11, Sigourney Weaver is joined by a somewhat incongruous special
guest who finds himself shockingly involved in the episode: playwright and
long-time collaborator Christopher Durang, who looks sort of like the bastard
child of Mikey Day and Jim Breuer and with whom Sigourney has... a very
dubious chemistry in spite of their personal history. They set up a runner
that'll pay off later with promises of performing their tribute to Brecht, and
the material that immediately ensues—a confounding fake ad, and then
<i>another</i> Tommy Flanagan sketch, none of which feature <i>any</i> of the
season's new cast members—set the episode up to feel like a night of no great
change. But then, suddenly and beautifully, "Quiz Masters" appears, debuting
Phil Hartman, Dana Carvey, and Jan Hooks, and it feels like SNL surges forward
in the sort of vibrant colors that we haven't seen in years.
</p>
<p>
As I was talking to my friend Carson about the previous season, he made an
interesting point about how Season 11 was so frustrating because even when it
found successes, there was a very low ceiling for how great the show could
really be—so it's funny that one of the first proper sketches from Season 12
is immediately better than anything the SNL accomplished over the previous
year. However much the continual genius of Andy Breckman (brought back as a
full-time writer!) can't be discounted in the sketch's success, the true
strength of the piece is in how perfectly the cast members nail their first
impressions. Phil, owing to the decade he spent honing his comedy chops at The
Groundlings, is absolutely incredible as the game show's genial smarmy host,
milking every line for all of its worth with the effortlessness that we'd see
out of a cast member at the height of their powers, and it's literally his
<i>first fucking sketch</i>! Whereas he's a perfect anchor, Dana and Jan offer
the premise its essential flavor, with Dana's smug, overeager psychic reaping
the benefits of his clairvoyance for every trivia question while Jan, debuting
her Marge Keister character, is left grasping at the sidelines. ("Marge, are
you trying?" "Yes I am trying Bill. I don't think this is fair, he's a
psychic.") This isn't a big night for Jan, but it's a nice, inaugural showcase
for her ability to inhibit a compelling character and make gold out of
whatever position in a sketch she holds, and the sketch's killer ending gives
her a chance to show off some nice physical comedy to boot! Basically, in the
span of only a little over five minutes, I've been convinced of their
greatness, and I can't wait to spend the next several seasons with them.
</p>
<p>
Working off the momentum of that sketch, Dana continues to lay his stakes as
the show's new breakout star across the rest of the premiere, and it feels
particularly well-deserved; in these years, it's rare to see a performer who
you can tell is so goddamn <i>ebullient</i> that he gets to be on SNL, and he
channels that excitement into this episode with all his might. I'd be remiss
not to mention, for instance, that he hits the ground running with the debut
installment of "Church Chat." The sketch isn't quite as refined as it will
ultimately become, but it's an impressive first effort that highlights Dana's
ability to find memorable hooks and vocal tics in his characters, and his
endless interrogation of every guest—accusing them of worshipping Satan in
that classically condescending Church Lady way—is a good starting place for
these sketches to continue to grow off of. Perhaps Dana's most lauded
contribution to this episode, though, is the debut of his aged rock star
character, Derek Stevens, who fulfills his promise to Phil and Sigourney at
the record company that he has new material by crudely improvising over his
incomplete material with nonsensical lyrics. It's... an alright bit, though I
can recognize its significance as a watershed moment for this new era; while I
prefer
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9WhNqQhF_ng">Dana's earlier version of the bit</a>, where the intent is to lampoon self-serious songwriters who can sell
anything with their conviction, there's no denying that "Choppin' Broccoli" is
a goofy earworm that you'll never unhear. And more than anything else, even if
this is the Dana Carvey episode, Phil's continued presence at the sidelines
reveals how sublime he is; his legitimately enchanted facial expressions as he
listens to Derek's music sell the entire premise.
</p>
<p>
For however much Dana walks away with things, though, this is a fairly solid
premiere for everyone to show what they can do, which I always love to see.
While Kevin Nealon is trapped in that nebulous zone known as being a "featured
player" in these early years, he hits the ground running in his sole sketch
appearance of the night by debuting (this is really a night of debuts!) his
Mr. Subliminal routine, and it's the perfect introduction to Kevin's brand of
dry celebreality as he effortlessly floats between straightforward dialogue
and the blunt, subliminal utterances of his ulterior motives that enable him
to get what he wants: "Mets tickets." "Company car." "Hot sex." As with a lot
of other sketches in this episode, it feels like a somewhat imperfect and
prolonged sketch (the last minute with Victoria felt like an easy cut
considering his interaction with Jon was the clear peak), but the originality
and confidence of the idea and performances are immaculate. Victoria Jackson,
meanwhile, walks away with the least from this episode, though she manages to
form a connection with the audience in spite of her limited presence during
her Update correspondence, trying to present a home video of her daughter as
footage from the then-recent Reykjavik Summit. She'll be an interesting
performer to track across the next several years; I know her ditziness becomes
something of a trap for her and she tends to stick to her range, but she
<i>is</i> funny here, and I can see how her delivery could be successfully
interpreted by the writing staff. There's just a strange, lingering lack of
clarity to where the joke begins and ends with her, complicated by the
hardcore conservative nutcase she'd eventually be known to be, and her
mentioning that she's "a mother first, and a Christian second" is certainly...
a moment that stings of hindsight.
</p>
<p>
The older cast, meanwhile, continues to cement their status as capable
performers, even if they don't get any particularly big showcases this
episode. The Tommy Flanagan sketch up top that both Jon and Nora carry feels
like a nod of gratitude from the show that they carried the previous season,
though it's a shame that it amounts to more of the same tired routine as usual
and actively sets the night off on the wrong foot. Throughout the rest of the
episode, though, they mostly lend support to the newbies, a sweet gesture to
indoctrinate this next wave of performers into the show. (Jon does, however,
also get to be the face of another Breckman masterpiece, "The Amazing
Alexander," and even if he's simply a prop for the writing, the still images
of him as a hypnotist are a hilarious compliment to the sketch itself.) Dennis
Miller, meanwhile—mullet in full bloom—continues to man Weekend Update in the
polarizing way that he has since last season. I've been told to be more
constructive in my criticisms towards him, so I'll say this now: Dennis, like
Nora and Jon, deserves credit for holding the show together. He probably
deserves more credit than they do; even if I don't find any enjoyment in his
distinct style, he struck a connection with the audience that no anchors
before him did, allowing the segment to be defined by personality over cruddy
joke-telling. Begrudgingly, I have to thank him for keeping the show afloat
and leaving an impact; those reverberations eventually led to things I
<i>do</i> like, after all. Still, I can't defend "Crocodile Gandhi."
</p>
<p>
While the moments where it feels like the cast is "arriving" are the best
moments of this premiere, and they give it such an exciting sense of
electricity, it's easy to forget that there's still a very odd,
rough-around-the-edges episode connecting all of them together. I can see how
its strangeness could complicate how the overall quality of the episode is
perceived, but I found a charm in it; I love seeing the show working so hard
to reinvent itself, and while the most memorable changes are the ones that
make positive strides for the era in the long run, the moments of bizarre
fascination are an equally-compelling part of this show's character. For
instance, in lieu of a musical guest, this episode does a HARD SELL on Buster
Poindexter as a friend of the SNL band with multiple performances of his
unique brand of throwback, white boy blues. I don't dislike his contributions
as much as others do, probably; there's definitely too much of him in this
episode (reruns would wisely cut one of his performances out), but he furthers
the season's agenda to have a classier feel, and I always like SNL having
little specks of its variety show origins in the mix as they become more and
more uncommon. Sigourney Weaver as a host is also used rather curiously. I
don't think she's the strongest, even if she makes up for it to some extent
with her gameness and natural likability; beyond the obligatory
<i>Aliens</i> spoof (pretty weak) and her reprising Zuul from
<i>Ghostbusters</i> to fun effect in "Church Chat," though, it doesn't feel
like SNL has much of an angle on her skillset. At the very least, she does get
to fulfill the episode-long Brecht runner by performing a portion of an old
off-Broadway act, "Das Lusitania Songspiel," with Christopher Durang. It's
auteur weirdness, and it's probably too smart for the room, but I can't help
but appreciate it at some weird level, and seeing how much Sigourney comes to
life by getting to participate in material that plays to her unique strengths
as she rattles off faux-pretentious nonsense with deep conviction ends the
episode on a fun note.
</p>
<p>
Going into this episode, I had a strange sense that it would be this humongous
reversal from the iffiness of last season, and honestly... it's not. Season 12
still has a long way to go with finding its new identity. But this is as
audacious of a start as you could possibly have in these circumstances, and
it's clear that at long last, SNL has all the pieces it needs to go forth with
confidence. The cast is brilliant; the writing can be dazzling. Success is on
the horizon, and it's simply a matter of time as the show continues to chart
its path to stability.
</p>
<p>
In other words: I loved it. It was much better than Season 11. I'm going to
see it again and again. <i>(Penned 1/05/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/18/86: Malcolm-Jamal Warner / Run-DMC (S12E02)</b>
</p>
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<p>
Malcolm-Jamal Warner is a very interesting second host of the season for me.
While it feels like Season 12 is slowly revving up to some high-profile hosts
who can involve themselves more substantially in their respective episodes,
this early run of hosting choices feels like a bit of an eclectic mix. I
suppose that's fair enough, and I can see a handful of reasons why someone
like Malcolm would be chosen; beyond being able to draw in audiences from
<i>The Cosby Show</i>, he's also not the most load-bearing presence, which
means that the show can focus more attention on working out the cast and
getting them comfortable as SNL's new driving force. Is it disappointing to me
how that means, for the second week in a row, the host isn't the object of
much consideration in the episode? Kind of. But it's smart of the show to
focus more on cultivating a cast than forcing their way into the cultural
conversation with high-profile stunts—one of the better lessons that Season 11
was able to impart.
</p>
<p>
Of course, it's also undeniable that this episode goes to some efforts to
attract a unique, blacker audience that SNL hasn't traditionally pursued;
beyond Malcolm hosting, this episode also features cameos from Spike Lee and
musical guest Run-friggin'-DMC! But whereas I don't want to say that focus was
ill-advised, it certainly feels awkward that the show can't do a huge amount
to key into the audience those names bring along with its all-white cast. I
shuddered to think that the show would do some sort of "White Cosbys" sketch
because it's realistically the only move they could've pulled off for the sake
of parody, and it turned out that I was half right with the show catering to
Malcolm with a sketch where he imagines himself as a son of Bing Crosby on
"The Crosby Show." (More on that piece in a bit.) The fact of the matter is
that Malcolm ultimately isn't used a huge amount, which is a shame; while he
doesn't seem like the most comfortable host (which is fair, he's 17!),
he has a youthful, self-effacing sense of enthusiasm that feels refreshing
whenever he's put to task.
</p>
<p>
Either way, this episode makes for a nice companion piece to the premiere. If
that episode was all about Dana, this episode is devoted to Phil and Jan, and
while both (especially Phil) had certainly already proven their worth last
week, it's exciting to see them continuing to come into their own and steer
this week along as they so clearly can. The Donahue sketch is perhaps the
first glimmer of their fullest potential. While Phil offered perfect support
across the premiere, seeing him get to carry this sketch with his cutting
impression of Phil Donahue—perfectly encapsulating the self-satisfied,
exploitative nature of his program—is a wonderful showing that he can be as
much of a star as everyone else. And while both Victoria and Nora are in the
sketch to provide fun support, it's Jan who captures your eye as a guest on
the show talking about her abusive relationship; the turn she does after Phil
hammers in every single horrible way that her boyfriend's wronged her, going
from profusely crying to doting on him with a grin on her face ("Well, you
would really have to meet him!") is a wonderful, hilarious bit of acting. The
sketch risks being mean-spirited or too dark for its own good, and there are
moments where the questionability of its humor surrounding women in abusive
relationships becomes overbearing, but it's interesting to note that this
sketch was penned by Rosie Schuster, who also co-wrote the notorious "Uncle
Roy" sketches in the original era. Just like those sketches, too, I think it's
the expert calculation of the performances, courtesy of Phil and Jan, that
help interpret everything <i>exactly</i> right and ensure that the provocative
quality of the writing raises pertinent questions rather than being tactless
or fraught.
</p>
<p>
One of the best things about Phil and Jan in this episode, though, is how many
amazing displays of chemistry there are between them and the older guard
throughout this episode. In the span of only two episodes, it feels like the
fuzzy line separating their tenures has already been completely erased. Nora,
a cast member who spent so much of last season adrift in Pat Stevens sketches
or awkward supporting roles, is absolutely magnetic alongside Jan in the debut
of their Sweeney Sisters, two sibling lounge singers stringing together an
absolutely nonsensical medley based on the slightest bit of connective tissue
across each song they sing. It's a big risk for the show to invoke the lounge
singer concept after Bill's great success as Nick the Lounge Singer, but Jan
and Nora imbue it with something far warmer; while Bill gives Nick his classic
sense of smugness despite his low status, the Sweeney Sisters couch their
tackiness in something sweet and bubbly. (Their singing is also sincerely
beautiful, which helps.) Even better is the classic "Old Hollywood" sketch,
casting Phil as the pompous actor Johnny O'Connor whose career, carved around
jingoistic war pictures, is greatly jeopardized after WWII. It's not
surprising that this was an old Groundlings piece he originally did with Jon,
who portrays the studio boss that Johnny pleads with incessantly; their
chemistry is outstanding, and you can tell that Jon is <i>elated</i> to
finally have a scene partner he can really go toe-to-toe with at the show. The
sketch, too, is all-around delightful, with Phil and Jon's vicious
back-and-forth feeling almost vaudevillian; the beat where Jon and Phil get
absolutely locked-in, with Jon hammering his points in furiously ("I think
you're the worst actor I've ever seen, and I get 500 letters a day telling me
the same!") while Phil guilelessly pleads for Jon to tell it to him straight
("What's the word on the street?") is one of those moments that deserves to be
on every SNL clip compilation for the rest of history.
</p>
<p>
With those highlights out of the way, the rest of this episode is pretty
decent, if not mind-blowing, and there's only one outright bad sketch: "The
Crosby Show." I know it has a decent reputation among fans, and it's nice to
see Phil getting another leading role that gives him ample room to do the
comedic heavy-lifting, but the quality of the premise is excessively dubious;
it already smacks of some awkwardness that this is the only way that the
ultra-white SNL cast can riff on <i>The Cosby Show</i> as I mentioned
earlier (Dana does a Cosby impression, with Cosby awkwardly being represented
by a black extra's hand sticking out of a doorframe), but the questionability
multiplies tenfold by basing the humor around Phil's Bing Crosby beating and
abusing his children. However much the premise writes itself by replacing the
classic, positive father figure of Bill Cosby/Cliff Huxtable with a famously
disastrous real-life father with a similar name, that doesn't mean it
should've been written, with my only laughs coming from a few odd lines and
some horribly botched timing with the superimposed Cosby head in the climax. I
found more to appreciate about the night's closing chalk factory piece, even
if it felt a bit incomplete. It reminded me strongly of the great "Roy's Food
Repair" sketch from <i>The New Show</i>, which makes sense given that both
were penned by George Meyer; there's a fun, low-key approach to absurdity that
I find very appealing, and it's complemented nicely by fierce commitment to
the concept. (How they managed to coat that entire set in chalk powder, I have
no idea.) Bonus points, too, for finding the episode's most clever use for
Malcolm—having him play Dana and Nora's son in a piece where every performer
is so caked in chalk that skin color isn't differential is an inspired,
quietly progressive bit of casting goofiness.
</p>
<p>
In the end, it's a bit of a difficult episode to assess. There are some
spectacular highlights, though it also doesn't feel like the most coherent
episode as a whole, and there are a few points of detraction that cut at the
episode more deeply than the flaws that the premiere had. (Like, for as good
as "Donahue" was, putting it alongside "The Crosby Show" started the night off
with back-to-back sketches about abuse, which was a difficult energy to start
with.) Nonetheless, Season 12 remains immensely charming, and you can tell the
show is garnering an early, promising sense of confidence. I'm aware that the
next two episodes in the season might be a bit rocky, so it'll be interesting
to see how this new era soldiers through them, or at least makes the best out
of a less-than-ideal situation. <i>(Penned 1/08/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/08/86: Rosanna Arquette / Ric Ocasek (S12E02)</b>
</p>
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<p>
The Rosanna Arquette episode is one of the most unique episodes in the show's
history, if on a bizarre technicality. With the planned October 25th broadcast
being bumped due to the legendary Game 6 of the 1986 World Series running
overtime and going into an extra inning, SNL was forced to do an
extraordinarily late taping and package the episode up for eventual broadcast
two weeks later. It's a strange, unique situation that the show had never been
placed in before, and that it hasn't since—how can you cancel a show, after
all, when there's a full studio audience waiting for a show? Tragically, those
external factors might have been poor circumstances for the episode that
finally aired. With the show filming from 1:30 to 3 AM, the cast, crew, and
audience were reportedly exhausted, and the episode that finally aired was
heavily buttressed by canned laughter and footage from dress that obstructed
those complications to the best of their ability. The final outcome
isn't as bad as it could've been, but it's certainly a tumultuous night, and
that classic "third week in a row" fatigue that SNL risks falling into feels
disappointingly exacerbated.
</p>
<p>
It doesn't help too much, either, that Rosanna Arquette is a mildly
confounding host. She's another reminder that just because someone is a
talented dramatic actor doesn't mean that they'll lend themselves to sketch
comedy, and the energy she brings feels overeager in a questionable, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IOMEkV1Qq30">Laura Parsons</a>
sort of way rather than particularly strong. She also rarely melds with the
show so much as using it as a chance to reiterate talking points or be sort of
vain: in her monologue, she strangely skirts around direct criticism of Ronald
Reagan, and in her "Church Chat" appearance, she derails the Church Lady's
leading questions to express her fears of corporate monopolies and Big Oil
polluting our drinking water. All of those expressions are valid, perhaps even
noble, but it feels weirdly direct and earnest for a comedy show, as if the
primary goal of her being there was to make herself look good on account of
her beliefs. And sure, the show also casts Rosanna as herself in multiple
pieces, so perhaps there's not a ton of latitude you can get out of her
persona, but that doesn't excuse her bizarre musical number as a wannabe rock
star singing about the divine inspiration fueling her dreams—Rosanna's singing
voice ("I saw GAWWWWD!") is so rough that you bristle at it, and I'm pretty
sure that it wasn't a character choice. Did she just, like, want to sing for a
bit?
</p>
<p>
Fortunately, Rosanna is good in the one piece that really matters tonight: the
legendary <i>People's Court</i> sketch, pitting her hairdresser plaintiff
against Jon as Mephistopheles in a trial over his deliberate sabotage of
her business. Something I totally forgot about until this sketch is that one
of the great perks of having a balanced cast full of adept performers for the
first time in ages is that we can have amazing ensemble sketches again, and
this one lives up to its reputation. For one, it's a great way to
recontextualize one of Jon's more unique recurring characters from the
previous season, and I hope it's a sign that he'll find more versatile use
than the likes of Tommy Flanagan (who we also saw earlier in this episode,
doing very much the same thing as always). In large part, though, the rest of
the cast deserves credit for placing him into such a perfect ecosystem to
thrive in: Phil is cast delightfully as the unflinching Judge Joseph Wapner,
quick to shoot down Mephistopheles's squabbling as if it's something he's seen
a million times before ("You may hold dominion over the nether regions, but I
run this court! Is that clear?"), Kevin submits solid straight work as court
case presenter Dough Llewelyn, and Jan continues to build her fledgling
reputation as the show's secret weapon, earning some of the hardest laughs
from her portrayal of Rosanna's identically-coiffed, 33 year-old mom ("I am
her mother. I am a barfly."). And yes, even Rosanna is well-accounted for, and
the sketch constructs a solid character for her around the quirks she has as a
performer.
</p>
<p>
It's smart to place that sketch at the very top of the episode, but it also
feels like having the peak that early means there's nowhere else for the show
to go. "Church Chat" is slotted right after, which is a good position at
least; while this sketch feels like a pretty uninventive rewrite of the first,
the audience responds well and Dana is getting more of a grasp on the
character beyond the ticks that defined her first appearance. I also quite
liked Victoria's appearance as a guest who gets chastised over missing church
for the first time in 14 years—quite a stretch for her, I'm sure!—and both
Rosanna and Ric Ocasek have some nice moments that put Church Lady in her
place, but we've still got a ways to go. It almost feels like the episode
didn't plan much beyond that, though, or maybe it got so gassed-out from how
late it was that it trudges its way to the finish line without much vigor;
after Update, things descend into strange little curiosities, sometimes good
and sometimes bad, but pretty mild all the same.
</p>
<p>
It's cool, for instance, to see the first of Dana and Kevin's team-ups,
knowing what a legendary pair they'd become in the future, though this first
joint effort isn't much to write home about. I did enjoy seeing such a very
grounded, slice-of-life scene, and their two lazy couch potatoes Sammy and
Sammy taking turns expressing on their aspirations only to immediately dismiss
them offered a fun sense of rhythm to the sketch—"That's another thing I'm
nevah gonna dooo!"—but it's a bit of a tough sell on such an increasingly
low-key night, however amusing their characterizations. I also liked Andy
Breckman's contribution to the show, "Make Joan Baez Laugh," even if it's a
lesser effort from him; Nora's self-important, humorless portrayal of Joan
Baez is balanced perfectly by Phil's typically expert performance as the game
show host, and Jon's impression of a young, hyperactive Howie Mandel is
something that you <i>gotta</i> see, but at the end of the day, it's a lot of
build-up to a very stupid punchline. And hell, Dennis Miller continues to
elude me a bit, but I found some bizarre humor in his "Miss Connie's Fable
Nook" sketch. The whole thing is a self-satisfied inside joke, with Dennis,
Kevin, and Dana pitching a deliberately meaningless sketch as seriously as
they could only for it to <i>somehow</i> get into the live show... and yet I
couldn't help but grin at the visual of them hopping around in their frilly
costumes, or the deliberately stilted mock-sincerity of their lesson on
patience. Is it actually good, though? Ehhhh.
</p>
<p>
Further adding to the curio vibes, this episode contains two outsourced short
films that comprise a decent chunk of the overall runtime. While we haven't
been seeing much of it so far, this season's been making some unique
acquisitions of outside material, most of which ended up being cut after dress
and stitched into reruns (including a Spike Lee piece last episode, and a film
starring Rupert Everett from the premiere); I guess it's unsurprising, then,
that an episode whose existence already feels so wobbly would be the one where
they survive their way into the live show. The better of the two pieces is
Bill Wegman's "Dog Baseball," a welcome improvement over some of his previous
contributions to the show that have mostly just involved making his dogs drop
things, or wake up. It's still a pretty slight piece, but it feels like a more
successful integration of his artistry into the show as he narrates over
footage of him playing baseball against a team of dogs (very cute, by the way)
in an amusingly deadpan manner: "Dog baseball can be a lot of funs if you like
dogs. And I like dogs. I really like dogs." Less successful but equally
dog-tastic is the bizarre, five minute-long "Pango, Giant Dog of Tokyo!" piece
that ends the night. I want to find a charm to its very low-tech nature, but
it's hard to pretend that it isn't just an audio comedy piece set to a montage
of still images of action figures, and there's not a lot of mileage you can
get out of the stilted, over-complicated dialogue and vague orientalism. Oh,
and to add insult to injury, repeat versions replace "Pango" with a segment
from Jim Jarmusch's "Coffee and Cigarettes" starring Stephen Wright! How come
we couldn't have gotten <i>that</i>?
</p>
<p>
It's sort of difficult to consider this episode as a whole, because it feels
like it's barely holding itself together; perhaps it deserves credit that it
was able to be pieced together at all, and that it managed a few highlights
regardless. It also deserves some applause that, despite this being only the
third episode for much of the cast, everyone rises to the challenge as best
they can—I feel as if, watching any of the sketches in isolation, you wouldn't
be able to tell that the complete package was made under such difficult
circumstances. But sadly, as a whole, this episode simply doesn't come
together. Here's hoping the next episode can feel a bit more rejuvenating!
Who's hosting? Oh... <i>(Penned 1/12/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b> GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/15/86: Sam Kinison / Lou Reed (S12E04)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Sam Kinison. The sin sergeant. The diabolical disciple of depravity. The
paunchy prince of perdition. While I haven't talked about him with all that
much detail throughout his previous appearances on the show, I'm sure I've
made my opinions of him abundantly clear: I'm no big fan. I can buy, to some
extent, that you just had to be there, and I can see how a stand-up whose
entire act is built upon being an affront to nature, screaming and whipping
the audience around and casting himself as an overall menace, would be
revelatory. By the standards of these modern times we now live in, though,
he's simply <i>exhausting</i> to watch, and while I don't want to predicate
all of my thoughts about him as some effort in "virtue signaling" or whatever
term people throw around to protect themselves from criticism, his attitudes
towards women and whatever other topics of the day feel unignorably
retrograde—if he pushed comedy forward, he also did so by exploiting
everything that held the culture back. However much his influence is
undeniable (just listen to how Joe Rogan lavishes his praise!), that doesn't
mean I have to enjoy him, and this episode finds him on his absolute worst
behavior.
</p>
<p>
Also, in light of recent criticisms of my writing, I feel obliged to apologize
now for any mean-spirited, low-hanging comments I make in my review about Sam
Kinison. I know it's disrespectful; he certainly never punched down, ever,
about anything, especially women or gay people, in his act. And certainly not
in this episode.
</p>
<p>
Sam's attachment to SNL is interesting in general, and while I think he
actually slotted into the chaotic, disorderly vibes of the previous season in
a fair enough way, it feels outright weird for Sam to be hosting the show by
this point. Even though it's been less than a year, the way the flavors of the
show have changed are stark—Sam makes no sense <i>at all</i> up against the
likes of Phil, Nora, and Jan, and it feels actively perplexing for him to be
flanked on every side with performers of their caliber. That lack of any
connection between the cast and the host is all the more emphasized by the
tug-and-pull spanning this entire episode between the more high-brow nature of
the hostless material (one glaring exception aside), and how increasingly
mind-numbing Sam's appearances become. There's been a lot of awkwardness over
the last three episodes with SNL trying to ingratiate itself with its hosts,
though this episode takes the cake: with such a limited performer, all Sam
does in all of his sketch appearances is build up to screams, if there's even
any building up to do.
</p>
<p>
I'll give it to him that it works <i>one</i> time, in the parent-teacher
conference sketch, casting Sam as a kindergarten teacher who bluntly
disparages the stupidity of Kevin and Jan's daughter. It's not an elaborate
piece, but it feels like it actually understands how Sam could be used in the
context of a sketch, giving him ample room to build up his aggression before
exploding as he's contractually obligated to do, and he actually plays the
role well up to that point. I'll also go so far as to say that Sam's a decent,
charismatic performer when he exercises restraint, and he's able to execute
this sketch with the sort of delightfully cruel edge that nobody else in this
cast could manage ("She's only four and a half though." "Hey, I know how old
Stupid Sarah is."). If Sam were simply a special guest who did some stand-up
and played along for this sketch, I think this episode would've been more
successful; one fun showcase for Sam is quite frankly enough, and he emerges
from it looking pretty good. The issue is that he just... keeps doing that
same thing, over and over again, every single time to diminishing returns
until the episode is finally over.
</p>
<p>
Case in point: the goodwill of that sketch is immediately destroyed by his
next appearance in "Love Connection, which would legitimately rank for me
among the worst sketches the show has ever done. For one, Sam's performance in
this as himself is so awful that he actively devolves into pathetic, screamy
self-parody. Whereas those screams that made him famous might have been
legitimately feral in his earliest, unjaded years, by this point they have no
substance, subtext, or legitimate emotionality—they're a labored affectation,
all bark and no bite, and he performs them for the sake of appeasing his
audience in the same way that a circus seal honks horns for fish. What really
makes this a stinker, though, is the horribly degrading way that it uses the
women in the cast, all as objects of Sam's ridicule, and while the sketch
vaguely justifies Sam's misogynistic murder/suicide threats on account of a
horrible date with Nora, the reason said date was so horrible—that she's a
lesbian who raped him to impregnate her wife—is... I mean... just fucking
<i>read</i> that. It's truly a race to the bottom to figure out what the worst
sketch in the show's history is, and while I can't say there's a definite
position, it's hard to think of that many other sketches that are more
actively objectionable of the groups they're punching down upon. It's an even
bigger crater than the one that meteor left behind in the half-written Krypton
sketch that puts this episode out of its mild misery.
</p>
<p>
I say "mild," though, because however complicated this episode is, it isn't
<i>truly</i> a bust. Season 12 still seems very focused on its cast over its
host, with a lot of hostless material highlighting their new talent, and while
for the most part I wish that we could see the weekly hosts be more
actualized, such material in an episode like this is basically a saving grace.
And rather uniquely, this episode boasts a lot of firsts for the era! Perhaps
most excitingly, we get our first true commercial parody sketch, and our first
use of Phil in one of his most famous roles, as the spokesman for a
fundamentally bizarre product. In this case, it's the Adobe, "the sassy new
Mexican import that's made out of clay!", and it's such a perfect inaugural
fake ad that demonstrates the strength of the show's writing—one of my
favorite things about these seasons, from what I've seen, is how adept they
are at executing silly ideas with expert craftsmanship. (My favorite parts of
this one: the easy repair process of molding the dents out, and the tennis
players exiting the car with clay stains down their backs.) We also get our
first of these seasons' penchant for black-and-white, old Hollywood-style
sketches, "The Jungle Room," debuting a trio of semi-recurring characters:
Jon's power-hungry, crooning gangster Eddie Spimozo, Kevin as his abused
bartender Charlie Loomis, and Phil—his face perpetually cast in the
handsomeness of a bygone era—as private detective Chick Hazard. It's not a
sketch that strongly spells out its jokes, but it's such undeniable fun seeing
everyone inhibit their characters so perfectly and play off of each other;
it's a lovely homage with dizzyingly frenetic energy, and Jon's performance of
"Fascinating Rhythm" makes for a great, unexpected capper. The dude can belt!
Perhaps it's no surprise the performance would play over the credits of his
Best Of DVD.
</p>
<p>
There's also, however, a rather unfortunate first for the cast here: our first
horribly offensive yellowface sketch, since this episode, in a quest to find
something even worse than what Sam Kinison could offer, also makes the first
appearance of Ching Change! Dana, in his love of a good catchphrase, has
stumbled upon the absolute banger of "Chicken make lousy housepet!" and
decided to craft an entire hoary stereotype sketch around it that would go on
to recur <i>seven more times</i>! But maybe he deserves more credit. My friend
Eddie mentioned that on <i>Mad TV</i>, Alex Borstein created her memorable
character of Mrs. Swan as a tribute to the way her grandmother talked and
acted; maybe, in a similar vein, Dana's grandfather was an Asian man from a
WWII propaganda poster. I don't know. It's a shame, because I do enjoy Dana a
lot as a performer, and there are some decent moments on the page, but
everything is couched in such a laborious exercise in distastefulness that I
have to wonder why any of this was ever okay, and why it would take until like
2014 before we all unanimously agreed that it wasn't. All I have to say is,
Ching Change make lousy recurring sketch!
</p>
<p>
As with the previous episode, this one is hard to balance out. Sam Kinison is
a humongous source of detraction who sours the screen the more that longer
he's on it, and some horrifyingly regressive material (Ching Change, Love
Connection) drags the season to its lowest point so far, but perhaps it's a
testament to Season 12 that the worst it can do at least has a couple of
lovely bright spots to take away from it and make the journey a little easier.
And if nothing else, this episode offers one of the greatest reprieves in the
show's history: after flaming out hard across a full episode, we will never
have to see Sam Kinison in 8H again. There is a god, after all! OHHH, OHHHHH!!
<i>(Penned 1/15/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/22/86: Robin Williams / Paul Simon & Ladysmith Black Mambazo
(S12E05)</b>
</p>
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In this episode's "Hamlet" sketch, Robin Williams is cast as a surrogate version
of himself, "Sir Robert of Wiltshire," brought onto Shakespeare's latest project
as an actor who improvises his way through the playwright's work as a Robin
Williams is known to do, much to Jon-as-Shakespeare's chagrin. On the night of
the big performance, there's a moment of disconnect between Shakespeare,
glowering at Robin's hyperactive desecration of his tightly-written play, and
Paul Simon as a stuffy critic, gleefully cracking up at all of Robin's
shenanigans with the rest of the crowd. I think that moment kinda speaks to the
disconnect that I feel with Robin Williams in general—if I don't hold him in
contempt, I feel like the adoration of his comic stylings others have is almost
entirely lost on me at a certain point. He's a fine performer, and he's
certainly got energy... but he's arguably energetic to a fault.
<div>
<p>
While Robin is leagues better than Sam Kinison was last week, I feel like
this episode has a lot of the same general issues of the host being unable
to compromise their voice for the show's well-being. It's refreshing, to
some degree, considering that Robin's hosting gig is the first time we've
had a host this season who fulfills the modern idea of what an SNL host is
by being a sort of nucleus for its sketch content, but having a host with
such a specific mode has its own set of hurdles. For however much this week
is happy to play at Robin's level and give him crowd-pleasing vanity pieces
that cater to his perpetual state of hyperdrive, it starts to run its course
before the show is over as his inability to be anything but larger than life
actively hinders the material's success. Things just become... fatigued, and
unassisted by his level of commitment.
</p>
<p>
That's where I think his Season 9 episode was actually a hair better; since
Robin wasn't leaned on too heavily, the episode had a healthy counterweight
that made his presence feel more enjoyable. To some extent, this episode has
a counterweight, too, in the form of adorable lil' Paul Simon! I'm glad that
he was able to parlay his musical guest spot into more of a shadow host
position; while their energies are wildly at-odds with each other, it's nice
having someone as dry and relaxed as Paul to tone things down as needed.
That presence helps a lot, and I loved all of the ways he got involved in
this episode—the post-monologue sketch where he recognizes increasingly more
random people he's encountered over the years (someone who drove him to the
airport once, someone who attended one of his concerts), only to be stumped
by his old musical partner Art Garfunkel, was a delightfully
self-deprecating piece—but there's only so much Paul can do to temper down
Robin Williams at the height of his manic energy.
</p>
<p>
Just because Robin is careening out of control this entire episode doesn't
mean that it's entirely bad, though; it's only around the halfway point that
things start to struggle. The cold open, as far as political cold opens go,
is pretty solid, casting Robin as a doddering President Reagan whose use of
an earpiece to be fed answers during a press conference goes haywire when it
picks up interference, causing him to indiscriminately spout whatever feed
he's picking up. It's as strong a use of Robin's imitation skills in sketch
form as there ever was, and while it lacks any satirical bite (wait for next
week's episode), it succeeds off of its playfulness and skillful
performance. The aforementioned Hamlet sketch also works pretty well, and
it's probably the best actualization of Robin's energy all night; these sort
of anachronistic pieces are never high art (Don Rickles did some Shakespeare
of sorts in his episode, too), but they present an inherently amusing
framework for the host to thrive in, and where them being out-of-step with
everyone around them is the point rather than a weakness. Jon's straight man
work as Shakespeare is perfect, and Phil makes the most out of his role as
the play director who's giddily taken by Robin's improvisations, and while
there are some annoying moments that perhaps hold a mirror up to Robin's bag
of tricks (the "fag bit," mm...), I think it also functions as a
metafictional piss-take of his overall style and its limitations. If 'Sir
Robert of Wiltshire' has a wide, populist appeal in the sketch and brings
the whole house down with his crowd work and ad-libs, he's not a
particularly sharpened instrument... and indeed, that rings true across
everything else.
</p>
<p>
I think the most frustrating instance of Robin's energy is in the episode's
Master Thespian sketch, "And So, Adieu," casting Robin as a director who
gets increasingly frustrated by the Master Thespian's inability to execute
his final line. On one hand, it's simply not that great of a sketch; it's an
exercise in repeating the same joke of Jon flubbing his line over and over
again, and the different ways in which he messes up aren't particularly
novel. The success of these sorts of boilerplate sketches then falls upon
how the performers enhance it, and while both Jon and Phil are suited well
enough to the concept, Robin suffocates the atmosphere completely with his
bombastic, blunt force style, leaving little room for his anger to
meaningfully escalate. (At one point, he's so loud that the audio is
actively clipping, which isn't too pleasant.) Robin similarly doesn't plug
in <i>at all</i> to this episode's Sweeney Sisters sketch. While the
gist fortunately just involves using him as a bookend, leaving Jan and Nora
to do their act as amusingly as ever, Robin has such a broad,
borderline-incomprehensible characterization of an old Jewish man that the
sketch's attempts at a sweeter, more bittersweet tone as he duets with Paul
Simon make the sketch's over-extension feel almost grueling.
</p>
<p>
For me, the most successful parts of this episode were the parts where Robin
simply... wasn't around. And while there's not as many hostless sketches in
this episode as usual, they're all strategically-placed across the episode
to offer some nice moments of reprieve from Robin's shtick. My pick for best
of the night would be Phil's advert for the "New York Word Exchange,"
offering pointers for how to invest in specific words for maximum profit as
if they're stocks. If there were ever a contender for "most Season 12 sketch
ever," this one would be up there: it's the most preposterously abstract,
cerebral idea you've ever heard, but Phil's affable pitchman sells the
concept perfectly, and it's filled to the brim with delightful details that
grant the whole thing a surprisingly deep level of realization. (My favorite
little joke was, in response to a letter sent in concerning the value of
"tommyrot," Phil suggests selling it to a collector. "Try Dick Cavett!")
Kevin also gets a few minutes at the end of the episode to do his thing, and
as usual, it's a blast. For me, he brings to mind both Rich Hall and Harry
Shearer—this piece offers up some well-realized, simplistic prop comedy
delivered with a very particular dryness—but Kevin has a uniquely neurotic
touch, as his attempts to demonstrate the importance of maps get sidetracked
by all of his struggles with their limitations.
</p>
<p>
As a whole, though, this episode isn't <i>bad</i>, but I didn't connect with
it as much as I would've liked to due to the overwhelming power of Robin's
presence. We've yet to see an episode this season that really hits things
out of the gate, but I know that this cast and writing staff has the
potential; everyone's having a lot of fun, and there's exceptional pieces
every single week. It's just a matter of finding the right host to make an
episode feel like a complete success. <i>(Penned 1/27/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B. </b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/06/86: Chevy Chase, Steve Martin, and Martin Short / Randy Newman
(S12E06)</b>
</p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAgzxkChNkm44eoM--ZKEMxrpQ92nV_-attOS8IEB2PEIz7H2SIJ1hT9i04Lhf15fwOWcrzYfzBTF0twF0zFfVvwBDb3AY7Or2xRUmAIKl3lLsQKfkANghVZTmQsuF-DNwWWL9cgnsVGQ7o-qUNj2MykKn4YenGtLFcL6tQXEaHLbTaXDIWRrR4XpS/s2560/Screenshot%20(131).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="2560" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAgzxkChNkm44eoM--ZKEMxrpQ92nV_-attOS8IEB2PEIz7H2SIJ1hT9i04Lhf15fwOWcrzYfzBTF0twF0zFfVvwBDb3AY7Or2xRUmAIKl3lLsQKfkANghVZTmQsuF-DNwWWL9cgnsVGQ7o-qUNj2MykKn4YenGtLFcL6tQXEaHLbTaXDIWRrR4XpS/s16000/Screenshot%20(131).png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
Has there ever been a more star-studded event in SNL's history than having
Chevy Chase, Steve Martin, and Martin Short—three of the most beloved names
in the comedy at the time, and two of the most beloved names in comedy of
<i>all</i> time—hosting Saturday Night Live at the same time? It's really
hard to say. But with the trio hot off of the Lorne Michaels-produced
film <i>The Three Amigos</i>, and with SNL on the quest for validation
in its latest era, it feels like a moment of perfect synergy. With that,
though, comes immense expectations, and given SNL's recent track record with
co-hosts, I was fairly nervous going into the episode that it couldn't
possibly live up to its promise. And ultimately, in some ways, it doesn't...
but since the final outcome is the strongest episode of the season so far,
there's only so much I can really complain about here.
</p>
<p>
To some extent, part of the thrills of the show is how naturally exciting it
is to see all of these people back at SNL, and that thrill can offer a lot
of latitude. (See: the recent episode in this current season that was
<i>also</i> hosted by Steve and Martin.) But there's also a lot of curious
issues with regards to balancing all three of them; while the most
successful, conventional co-hosted episodes have relied on the chemistry
between the people hosting—and these three certainly have chemistry—they're
very rarely put together in scenes so much as alternating as the special
guest from sketch to sketch. This ensures that all of them get at least one
spotlight moment, but it also feels underwhelmingly disproportionate in some
areas. Aside from anchoring an Ed Grimley sketch, Martin Short especially
feels wasted in the episode, with all of his other appearances being largely
interchangeable roles. On the other hand, it's interesting how Chevy comes
across as the most traditional sort of host in the episode, happily getting
involved in pieces that place him on a more equal plane with the show's
current cast. This is probably the best that Chevy's ever been returning to
the show, quite frankly; between his recent, very public trip to rehab and
being flanked by two more gifted co-hosts, he comes across here as
appreciably humbled and shockingly warm.
</p>
<p>
Most of all, though, for however much all three of these comedy titans
hosting SNL at the same time is an indisputable part of its appeal, even the
episode itself is quick to acknowledge that Steve Martin's return to the
show, after a five-year absence (barring a brief cameo), is the most
significant part of it all. It's the return of the golden child! While it
may not have been that evident in 1986, too, Steve would be the most
enduring link to the show's original era, and the only legendary host from
the first five years to ever make consistent returns. In that sense, I think
he's one of SNL's most significant legitimizers, and here in his first
hosting gig since Season 5, he's a cause for great celebration. The
monologue alone is one of the most ambitious monologues that the show has
done since those years, exploding into an extravagant musical number where,
after a brief anxiety attack, Steve musters his confidence and parades
around the studio with the cast, through the audience bleachers, and into
Lorne's office while declaring, "I'm me!" It's ironic that it's perhaps only
been forgotten by time because it would eventually be bested by Steve's
legendary, similarly-ambitious "Not Gonna Phone It In Tonight" cold open a
few years later, but that doesn't make this one any less delightful; it's a
perfect play on Steve's self-aggrandizing comic persona as he cheerfully
espouses that the mere act of being himself—"the me-est me there ever
was!"—is more than enough and leaving Chevy and Martin in the dust, boredly
playing checkers on mainstage while waiting for him to get everything out of
his system.
</p>
<p>
Not only is it a fantastic way to kick off a show: it also kicks off what
is, for my money, one of the greatest first halves in the show's entire
history, a magnificent treasure trove of hit after hit. The block of three
sketches after the first commercial break, especially, launches things into
a delightful fever pitch, giving all three of the night's hosts their
biggest spotlights of the episode. While it's perhaps been forgotten in the
annals of time, the couch cushion sketch is both a perfect use of Chevy
constructed around the brilliant, simple observation that gosh darn it, the
strangest things fall between the couch cushions sometimes! It's a perfect
opportunity for Andy Breckman to run wild, as Chevy's desperate search for
the channel changer has him pulling out handfuls of pens, a bunch of moldy
bananas, his family's long-lost Matisse painting, and the skeleton of their
old pet cat ("She's gonna need your love now more than ever, son.") among
other things, all while Chevy masterfully understates every new discovery in
his signature deadpan. Martin follows up the sketch with the episode's
biggest crowdpleaser, reprising Ed Grimley as he gets into a fight for his
life with Jon's Mephistopheles. It's certainly not the greatest Grimley
sketch there ever was, and a lot of its beats felt like simple reprisals of
things we've already seen before for the audience's delight... but watching
Martin saunter around is an inherently delightful exercise, and bringing
Mephistopheles into the sketch is a clever angle to bring the character into
this era of the show—watching him cower in fear as Ed raises his framed
picture of Pat Sajak against him ("So sincere! So honest! So filled with
decency!") is such a perfect little moment of interplay. And after that, we
get Steve's "A Holiday Wish," one of the show's perennial holiday classics!
It's a completely flawless monologue that ranks for me as one of the best
things that Steve has ever done for the show, and it also feels like an
interesting marker for the subtle shift in his persona as we enter the 80s;
his loopy overexuberance has been widely usurped by a more precise,
buttoned-up faux-pretentiousness, but there are still little moments of
relapse—when he revises his wishes to prioritize vanquishing his enemies,
who should "DIE like PIGS in <i>HELL</i>"—where that flame of goofballery
burns beautifully eternal.
</p>
<p>
After a decent performance from world-class goober Randy Newman, too, we get
one of the most famous, celebrated sketches of this <i>entire</i> era,
"President Reagan, Mastermind!" It's a complete reversal of SNL's moronic,
incompetent caricature of Reagan from the previous episode; under Phil
Hartman's interpretation, Reagan is a heartless tactician, going about his
duties as if everyone surrounding him is dead weight that exists to take the
fall for his immoral actions. ("Mr. President, you're going so fast, there's
still a lot about the Iran-Nicaragua operation I just don't understand."
"And you don't need to understand! <i>I'm</i> the president.
Only <i>I</i> need to understand. Is that clear?") His doddering
geniality is nothing more than a ruse to ingratiate himself to the public;
while he puts on a happy face for a little girl who gets to meet him for
selling the most Girl Scout cookies, as soon as she leaves and the door to
the Oval Office shuts, he screams "BACK TO WORK!" and all of his ineffectual
Cabinet members scramble back into the room for the dirty work to
recommence. While it does run a bit long in my opinion, its length isn't at
the expense of some more fantastic details, like Reagan's lack of legitimate
care for his old pal Jimmy Stewart (Dana, debuting an impression that would
come to good use two weeks from now) and his international phone call in
flawless Arabic. SNL always has an obligation to be responsive to the times
in which it exists, and it's rare to see the show be so cuttingly responsive
even when its political material is enjoyable; this stands as one of their
greatest satirical efforts of all time, made all the more impeccable by
Phil's vicious performance. (He's only been at the show for
<i>six fucking weeks</i>! What a legend.)
</p>
<p>
After that, though, the episode starts to lose momentum, and while that
string of hits ensures that this is a good outing for the show, none of what
remains really moves the needle. That's not to say that everything is all
that bad, even if a few things are. While the Dennis and Chevy team-up
during this week's Weekend Update seems to have been received poorly by some
other people who have written about this episode, I actually found it more
charming than usual. The quality of the jokes is bad, and Chevy is generally
unassisted by the writing, but I <i>never</i> expect to laugh during Weekend
Update all that much anyway; this is a partnership of two of SNL's greatest
don't-give-a-fuckers, and their shockingly robust chemistry ensures that
they're both fueling each other regardless of the rough material that they
have to work through. Chevy also slots in pretty well to this episode's
Church Lady sketch, which interestingly breaks format and takes the
character out of her usual talk show format. It's a fun approach, bringing
her into a more low-key scene where she's interacting with the people in her
community, and while it's not the most amazing sketch ever, it's an
enjoyable novelty, and Chevy is in good form as the local minister bearing
the same sort of superiority complex. (We also get the debut of Church
Lady's superior dance, which is a riot.)
</p>
<p>
In terms of what doesn't work, though, we get the night's biggest
disappointment, "The Eggshell Family." The premise isn't the worst,
centering on a family where every social interaction between them or anyone
else is very apprehensive (like walking on eggshells, get it?) but the issue
is that it makes no interesting choices, and its only vaguely redeeming
quality is that it's competently performed—which makes Steve and Martin's
presence, for as hard as they try, feel like even more of a waste. We also
get the season's first Pat Stevens sketch, which I wasn't really dying to
see, and it doesn't even have any of the hosts in it, either! Instead, the
subject is Filipino politician Corazon Aquino, very awkwardly impersonated
by Jan... and she's <i>not</i> nailing this, which makes the routine feel
even more halting. (Her attempt at a Filipino accent sounds Spanish by way
of Minnesota.) The final sketch of the episode also features an inexplicable
cameo from Eric Idle, teaming up with Dana as two British customs officers
who assume any object that is concealing something—a fold-up chessboard, a
chocolate box with two layers of chocolate—is actually a contraband. It's
not bad, per se, and Dana and Eric have the sort of delightful chemistry
that makes me wish this wasn't Eric's final appearance on the show, but it's
surprising how much a surprise appearance from Eric Idle could be quickly
forgotten.
</p>
<p>
As a whole, it's actually kind of surprising that this episode feels worse
by the end than it actually is; I almost wonder if it would be better served
by a running order that wasn't as top-heavy, since the back-half feels a bit
like an afterthought. Even if it's an imperfect episode, though, its
triumphs are completely undeniable, and it's such a pleasure to see all of
these familiar faces back in 8H, doing what they do best without simply
riding on the coattails of their nostalgia. While Martin sadly won't return
to the show again for another decade and Chevy's later appearances don't
seem particularly promising, it's so great to have Steve back at the show,
and I can't wait to see how he clicks with this new generation of comic
talent. <i>(Penned 2/01/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/13/86: Steve Guttenberg / The Pretenders (S12E07)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I think that there are two things true of Season 12. One is that, while the
writing is not uniformly better (they're ramping up for sure), having a
better cast able to properly execute it makes a huge difference. At the same
time, though, even if they make the bouts of frustrating material more
palatable, that doesn't suddenly make said material <i>great</i>; if
anything, it becomes equally tedious seeing the talents of the cast wasted
on questionable or lackluster content. I don't begrudge the season that
things have been so up and down, of course. This is the start of a new era,
following the tremendous failures of an aborted reboot, and the fact that
it's working as well as it has been for the past few months is nothing short
of a relief. With that being said, I feel that episodes like this are still
very much on the table: despite clear effort, this one doesn't quite work.
</p>
<p>
I wonder if a part of that has to do with a sense of cruise control. Last
episode was an all-hands-on-deck endeavor to accommodate for three beloved
SNL figures, and next week's William Shatner-hosted Christmas episode would
prove to be catnip for the show's nerdy writing staff to activate. Steve
Guttenberg, by comparison... is kinda just an affable host, an up-and-coming
actor with adequate comedic chops. The fact that he was previously a special
guest in Lorne's ill-fated <i>The New Show</i> further augments the very
low-key feel of his presence—he's just a guy in Lorne's rolodex having a
moment and filling an episode slot. That vibe holds true through most of the
material, where he blends in with the cast just fine but who doesn't
necessarily possess the charms to enhance the material he participates in.
It's a shame, too, because a lot of the material is... rough to say the
least.
</p>
<p>
Certainly not helping this particular episode is that it starts with a
string of particularly frustrating, frequently-fraught content that soured
me on proceedings before we even hit the first musical performance. The cold
open, spoofing the Iran-Contra affair, has the entire male cast donning
Middle Eastern garb, and while it's clever enough to maneuver around the
prospects of everyone doing questionable accents, we do get some
embarrassing, faux-Arabic chanting from A. Whitney Brown, which is perhaps
even worse. (The substance of the cold open itself is pretty much as you'd
expect a political cold open from 1986 to be: topical, dry, and not
particularly interesting.) We also get a commercial pretape for "McSooshi,"
a mildly interesting cultural artifact pointing towards sushi's gradual
indoctrination into Western vocabulary; in execution, though, there's not
much of a joke to it beyond the idea of McDonald's serving sushi, and the
oriental riff brings a queasily racist vibe that makes it feel more like
cultural gawking than anything else. Most confounding of all, though, is the
sketch casting Steve as a pushy gay man attempting to coerce or dupe Jon's
blind man into having sex with him. If that premise sounds like a hurdle...
<i>yeah</i>, the show isn't really able to turn it around, even if it's a
very effortfully-written piece with aspects I cautiously appreciate. I can
see the intent, with the sketch veering into preposterously cartoonish
territory as Steve finds more farfetched ways to stage his exit before
climbing back into Jon's bed (and all of Jon's screams of "Ohh! Ohh!" as he
foils Steve's attempts are amusing), but the goofiness of its presentation
can never override its very troubling conceit.
</p>
<p>
It shouldn't be too surprising that
<a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/lifestyle/1987/10/07/snl-and-the-censors/30f17baa-ba0d-46f2-a798-5a64a2834aa7/">the sketch attracted criticism from both the gay and disabled communities
at the time</a>, which I think is worth bringing up; I've had some awkward conversations
with my dad about old SNL material that he's been quick to vaguely defend on
the grounds that "it was a different time," but the fact that mainstream
culture was more willing to tolerate and defend such content is hardly a
reflection of it being, at some point, okay. I think that's important to
highlight, especially in regards to my contemporary assessments of dated
material—just because we have more foresight now doesn't excuse a lack of
foresight then. This sketch was a bad idea, despite its clear, more light
intentions. Moving on.
</p>
<p>
There are also two recurring characters this episode, and I think they're
interesting to compare. The more obvious crowdpleaser of the two is the
return of Derek Stevens, though it's also the less warranted. I think
there's actually a decent amount of ingenuity to the main concept of the
sketch, with Kevin's marketing manager pitching him the idea that he should
literally die to boost his sales, and there's an especially dark edge to
Phil criticizing Derek's idea of faking it as "just a little bit dishonest"
and actively plotting his death at the very end. The issue is that while it
grants the skeleton of the sketch a sort of form that the initial
installment lacked, it's at the expense of an equal crescendo: ultimately,
Derek just does a half-assed song <i>again</i>, and one that uses
literally the exact same melody as the memorable "Choppin' Broccoli" song
from the first. (I do like the minor easter egg that his "cold as ice" verse
is actually from the original incarnation of Dana's act, at least.) That
just makes the sketch feel flat and derivative, because despite some
refreshing ideas it fails to spice up the <i>one</i> reason why Derek
Stevens is being used. On the other hand, this episode rewards Jan's
periodic Maggie Keister character her own sketch, and while it's
exceptionally understated, it fares a lot better. You can see how the
character benefits from being able to move around different formats, whereas
Derek feels confined; the main hook with Maggie is simply her genial,
Midwestern charms, so putting her into a slice-of-life sketch with Phil as
her equally-sweet but slightly clueless husband makes for a nice bit of
world-building. The comedy of the sketch itself is rooted in simple
observation, with them struggling to find common ground with their
daughter's (Victoria's) new boyfriend, Steve Guttenberg, due to their very
outdated awareness of pop culture, but after a run of very dark or
questionable content, the sketch's warmth and universality feels even more
valuable.
</p>
<p>
The back-half offers some pieces of intrigue, though nothing too special for
the most part. "The Back Page," a black-and-white sketch about a news agency
tasked with writing the most inessential stories in the newspaper with the
same level of panache as the headliners, is pretty fun if eerily
dead-feeling; I like how everyone fills out their roles (Dana and Steve have
a fun chemistry as two fledgling, competitive writers, and Phil is great as
the cocky head honcho who can punch up their headlines in his sleep) but it
feels like it's almost too smart for the room, and the hesitant audience
response makes it conjure bad memories, perhaps unfairly, of
<i>The New Show</i>. There's also a fairly interesting short film in this
episode, Tim Robbins' fictitious biopic of Bob Roberts, a folk musician who
functions as a right-wing response to Bob Dylan for the conservative yuppie
crowd—no big gut-buster, but a unique piece with a satirical bite that would
later be expounded upon in Robbins' feature-length adaption half a decade
later. My favorite sketch of the night was the incredibly short casting
director sketch, where Kevin's mindless hand gestures while on a phone call
are misconstrued by Victoria's auditioning actress as requests for certain
physical movements. It's yet another sketch that speaks to Kevin's playful
celebreality, discovering the sort of ingeniously simple idea that makes me
red with envy as a comedy writer, and Victoria displays some delightful
physical comedy chops as she sways, rolls, and obeys all of his accidental
commands.
</p>
<p>
I'll also take this moment to recognize that this is the final episode that
Penn & Teller appear on SNL as special guests, and considering how
valuable they were to the previous season, it feels like a bittersweet,
"ships passing in the night" sort of moment for them to check into the show
one last time as it continues its ascent into the second golden age. I never
talked about them much throughout my Season 11 coverage; while that's
perhaps an oversight, I usually have a hard time figuring out how much to
accredit guest performers for the quality of the show considering they exist
more outside of it. That's probably also fueled, to some extent, by my
disinterest in them. That's not to say they haven't done some very cool
tricks in their previous appearances (the upside-down segment they did in
the Ron Reagan episode is fantastic), and I'll give them a lot of credit,
too, for steering the art of the magic trick into a darker and more cynical
place. They were also quick to experiment with using technology in pretty
forward-thinking ways as they do here. I've just... never quite cared for
the tonality while acknowledging their talent and inventiveness. Case in
point: this performance of theirs, once you get over the premise of them
basically burning NBC's money by using state-of-the-art technology for an
exceedingly simple card trick, you're still left with a card trick. At the
very least, it's an appropriate send-off for them to go all out as they do
here, and seeing them anchor a sketch with a large swath of the cast, who
trot out their best impressions while filling out freak show archetypes
makes for a pretty fun parting novelty.
</p>
<p>
While this episode simply doesn't come together in the end, it's pretty much
the exact kind of episode that I like analyzing the most: it's a low-key
return to normal after a very high-effort outing for the show, and it's
perhaps writerly to a fault. Caked between two celebrated episodes, it's
been relegated to the fate of being a valley between two peaks, and while I
don't think this one rises much to the occasion, it at least serves as
another affirmation that the season—even at its most mundane or tired—has
some spark to it. <i>(Penned 2/07/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/20/86: William Shatner / Lone Justice (S12E08)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I'm always cautious, during my watch-through, when it comes to approaching
beloved episodes of the show. I don't like playing expectations games at
all, because the worst thing you can enter an episode with is any assumption
of quality. And yet it's sort of difficult not to when hitting upon an
episode which, in the history of SNL, feels so quintessential; as someone
who devotes a lot of time to analyzing old SNL, I think reputation and
cultural footprint are fair metrics to view the show through, even if that
can sometimes lead to an underwhelming viewing experience. I say that
because, even if—spoiler alert—the William Shatner episode isn't the
flawless Christmas classic that I was anticipating, it's a particularly
enjoyable one, and in the context of this season, perhaps even a bit
crucial.
</p>
<p>
I think the source of most of my issues, however unfair it is to the show,
is the degree that I already know the episode. Its best moments have been
reduced to soundbites in greatest hits compilations, and its greatest twists
have been etched into the show's lore. I always approach vintage SNL like an
archaeologist: I love making discoveries, being delighted by things I
would've never expected, and reassessing material which has been long
forgotten except by the most diehard fans. So when I'm presented with an
episode whose greatest moments are things I already sort of know, there's
immediately less luster. I try not to let that get in the way, obviously,
though it can still be an uphill battle. Take this episode's famous
monologue, for instance, turning into a recreation of a
<i>Star Trek</i> convention where William Shatner inevitably tells the nerds
who have come to see him to get a life. The best touches are the ones that
were snipped out of the highlight reel: everyone's nerd characterizations
are great, and I love the stranger details like Kevin's obsessed fan
basically quizzing William not on the show, but on how many Saddlebred
horses he has on his horse farm when he already knows the answer. ("Is that
including the colt that was born earlier this week?" "That mare had a foal?"
"Tuesday.") The big twist of the sketch doesn't land as strongly now,
though, because even if it's the OG "Hey nerds, get a life, stop living in
your parent's basement!" joke... it's still a pretty low-hanging bit whose
impact has been rendered little more than an easy cliché by decades of
regurgitation. Even so, points for walking so that
<i>The Big Bang Theory</i> could run I suppose, and as a window into vintage
nerd culture that was clearly written from the place of dyed-in-the-wool
Trekkies in the writer's room, it's a unique novelty.
</p>
<p>
I was similarly saddled by certain expectations from this episode's other
most famous piece, the lost ending to <i>It's A Wonderful Life</i>. What I
can say about it upfront is that, on paper, it's brilliant, replacing the
affecting final moments of the Christmas classic with a beatdown of Mr.
Potter, the evil banker who was responsible for plummeting George Bailey
into financial ruin. I love that transgressiveness wholeheartedly, and I
love the level of commitment that everyone gives to their
performances—Dana's Jimmy Stewart is perfect, obviously, but Phil's raving
Uncle Billy is just as fantastic. Unfortunately, it's a sketch where knowing
the twist leaves more to be desired in execution rather than being a gift
that truly keeps on giving. Maybe it's the maniac side of me, but I hoped to
see the Potter beatdown go even harder—when you pull out a dummy, I wanna
see it get mercilessly flung around! As it stands, the framing of its big
moment feels sort of un-dynamic (it's not really satisfying seeing Dana do
wrestler moves on a dummy that's not in the frame, and all the noise of the
sketch muffled audience response and took away from the potential energy)
when it could've been gleeful anarchy. Still, I can't be too upset with it,
and the rest of the episode was able to meet my expectations pretty readily.
</p>
<p>
Of all of the episode's most famous sketches, "Star Trek V: Restaurant
Enterprise" worked for me the most, positing the next movie in the
<i>Star Trek</i> film series to be about the Enterprise being purchased by
Marriott and turned into a theme restaurant. I'm not overly-familiar with
the franchise but it's the sort of parody sketch that doesn't really require
it; all of the subversions on the series' formula are plain to see,
filtering <i>Star Trek's</i> standard story beats and distinctive brand of
sci-fi through the amusing mundanity of operating a dining establishment.
Phil's Dr. McCoy alarms Kirk of difficult customers with the sort of urgency
that suggests he may never see Kirk again; Kevin's Spock uses his penchant
for logic to clarify customers' confusion about the menu; Dana's evil Kahn
exacts revenge by simply siccing a health and safety inspector onto the
Enterprise, and Kirk triumphs over him with a bribe. The best part of it
all, though, is seeing production designer Leo Yoshimura back in the Sulu
costume from all the way back in the first season, enduring some delightful
meta jokes about how much he's aged out of the role. ("Oh my god, what has
happened to you!? Look at you!" "We all get older, Khan.") There was also
some joy to be had from the Sweeney Sisters reiteration here, which is
apparently something of a classic from its frequent use in Christmas
compilations from the era; it's hard for me to really tell them apart in
quality, but these are always a lot of fun, and there's an especially good
run with Jan and Nora singing "Carol of the Bells" in that classic, Sweeney
Sisters style.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode is largely forgotten, though as you could probably
assume from my earlier comments, there's no complaints from me there: those
obscurities made for some of my favorite discoveries. Even though it's
undoubtedly the most low-key sketch of the night, the bathroom sketch with
William and Nora might just be my favorite. It feels like slice-of-life
material is slowly becoming less of a norm at the show, which is a shame
given how gifted the cast would be at translating it. Perhaps it's also
telling of that decreasing value for slice-of-life content that this is the
only sketch that writer E. Jean Carroll got on the show (and she leaves
after this episode too, bizarrely); it clearly pulls from the same sort of
astute observations that would define her more prominent, future career as
an advice columnist, which makes me wonder what other refreshing material
she could've contributed. I'll appreciate that we got it, at least: William
performs the <i>hell</i> out of it as a wildly narcissistic husband posing
at the bathroom mirror and giggling in delight at his own image ("Look at
that butt. That's a tight butt, honey. That's a YOUNG BUTT, and I've got TWO
of em!"), and Nora offers a perfect counter as his nonplussed wife who's
simply focused on getting ready for the party that they're about to attend.
Elsewhere, Kevin contributes another stellar solo piece, recounting twisted
Christmas memories from his childhood with an increasingly maniacal glint in
his eyes ("Over the river and through the woods... that's the way my
grandmother used to drive."), and the night rounds itself out with a darkly
humorous pretape where (surprise cameo!) Griffin Dunne is subjected to the
merciless incompetence of several people in his life before dying in an
electric chair. Happy holidays, 1986!
</p>
<p>
In the end, while this episode isn't one of the greatest ever, it's one of
Season 12's most decisive wins yet, and as we slide into the winter break,
spirits feel high. I'm not sure what to expect of the second half of the
season, but in the wake of having to reconcile with lofty, slightly
unrealized hopes here, perhaps that's for the best. While this has been a
slightly inconsistent season, the cast is in place and the writers are in
sync—we'll get somewhere soon. <i>(Penned 2/17/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/24/87: Joe Montana and Walter Payton / Debbie Harry (S12E09)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Athletes and SNL, a combination for the ages! Living in a post-Peyton
Manning era, it's interesting to look back on a time where a sports star
hadn't really proven a distinct ability to crush an SNL hosting gig without
already having any comedic pedigree. It's not that I don't see the appeal; I
get the enjoyment of working with someone who can compensate for their lack
of acting experience with enthusiasm, and athletes tend to be very unfussy
team players within the realm of sketch, a mold of host that SNL frequently
benefits from. As hosts, Joe Montana and Walter Payton fall somewhere in the
middle of the pack: if they don't frequently inspire the greatest material
and have some stumbles, they're game participants who certainly don't
embarrass themselves either. This episode can be challenged by their
presence, but it's mercifully unchallenging as a whole.
</p>
<p>
Make no mistake: you won't discover Joe or Walter have any hidden talents,
but wisely, the show doesn't really coax them away from their comfort zone
too often. Is that an unadventurous thing to do? Perhaps. But it's in SNL's
best interest to ensure their hosts look as good as possible, and neither
host uses that for ego tripping so much as just trying their best in
material designed to hold their hand. This tends to manifest itself in
pieces where they appear as themselves, left to do some straight man work
opposite of the cast working overtime to be funny around them. Walter is
forced to endure a conversation with Tommy Flanagan as he discusses his
former pro football career at a bar, while Joe participates in the sort of
contractually-obligated light hazing that athlete hosts always get in the
<i>NFL Today</i> sketch, where Kevin's Brent Musberger plays footage of a
humiliating tackle over and over again. The best of those offerings is this
episode's Church Chat, which also feels like the first installment of the
recurring sketch to be firing on full cylinders. (If you ever needed proof
that it was an official hit, just listen to the healthy dose of applause and
gleeful screams Dana gets for all of his telegraphed catchphrases.) While
there are some very easy jokes about the homoeroticism intrinsic to
football, Joe and Walter are so relaxed here that they make them feel breezy
instead of labored, and their little football demonstration at the very
end—with Church Lady running into the audience to catch a pass from Joe, and
celebrating her victory with a group superiority dance—is a lively
crescendo.
</p>
<p>
The moments where the hosts are given more to do are where the episode takes
greater risks, which sometimes pay off and sometimes don't. I think Walter
unfortunately faces the brunt of it with his "Michael Jackson Workout Tape"
sketch; he's the lesser host of the two for sure, and giving him a sketch
where he's the only driving force while having to do a vague attempt at an
impression leaves everything feeling very stilted. Joe similarly struggles
in the United Way piece, but he also walks away with this episode's biggest
victory, the classic "Sincere Guy Stu" sketch, perhaps one of the most
definitive examples of SNL being able to work around the limitations of
their most wooden hosts. It's also a strong example of Season 12's more
conceptual school of writing, framed around the idea of Phil and Jan's two
lovers attempting to be coy with one another while voice-overs uncover their
truest intentions ("I could talk to you for days. [<i>Gee, I'd like to jump her bones.</i>]")... only for the kicker to be Joe entering as Phil's roommate, a man
with a simple one-track mind who—in a world full of ulterior motives and
two-facedness—simply believes all of the genial things that he says ("Oh, I
hope I'm not disturbing you. [<i>I hope I'm not disturbing them.</i>]"). It
feels like a far more obvious idea for Joe to simply be brash and
unreserved, but the choice of him instead being <i>so pure</i> that he foils
Phil and Jan's hookup plans because he simply cannot take a hint is far more
clever. Kudos to Joe, too; this is such an unsuspecting and straightforward
role, and as a very unsuspecting and straightforward person, I hesitate to
think too many hosts who could've sold the material as brilliantly as he
sells his polite mention that he'll be upstairs masturbating.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode, as is customary for Season 12, is comprised of
sketches that aren't particularly host-driven (if featuring the hosts at
all), which tends to offer a reliable counterweight. While the short but
succinct "Crack Achievers" pretape deserves mention for all of the gleefully
dark crackhead antics of the cast (Kevin bites a coffee mug, Jan strangles a
small dog, and Dana's gymnast spins around the high bar until he
spontaneously combusts), this episode is <i>all</i> about Phil Hartman, who
enjoys one of the best episodes of his tenure so far. One of my favorite
sketches of the episode was the debut of one of Phil's less-appreciated
recurring characters, Mace, offering Phil a fun opportunity to play with a
very different, more aggressive, lowly characterization than usual. Kevin's
hostage, repeatedly failing to wrestle the gun out of Phil's hands and
pitifully conceding after every botched attempt, also offers Phil both a
great scene partner and a very entertaining game to the sketch as every
scheme to turn the tables fails and drives Phil to an even higher level of
insanity. ("This is a GUN, pal. It's got BULLETS in it! BANG BANG!") I also
really enjoyed the return of the Jungle Room and his private investigator
character, Chick Hazard. In an episode that was frequently steeped in
sports-related humor, it's kind of wild that there would be a sketch built
firmly on <i>noir pastiche and elaborate world-building</i>, but I love
SNL's interest in creating an elaborate running storyline for Eddie Spimozo
and friends. This installment also brings about some rather delightful
additions, including Dana as Eddie's brother Joey (a good chance for Dana to
work "I oughta pound you!" into the third episode in a row, naturally), and
Victoria's sketch-stealing musical number as a troubled teen trying to get
employed as a singer at the Jungle Room, despite being woefully tone-deaf,
puts things delightfully over the top.
</p>
<p>
While there will always be some inevitable frustration from outings of the
show with weak hosts, this episode ultimately feels like another example of
how much this cast is able to carry the show along regardless of what cards
have been dealt. The fact that they were at least able to score a few
decisive wins for Tony and Walter, and reinforced the episode with some
strong material less reliant on their participation, ensures that while this
isn't a particularly great night, it's as harmless and
occasionally-enjoyable as SNL should generally strive to be.
<i>(Penned 2/20/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/31/87: Paul Shaffer / Brue Hornsby & The Range (S12E10)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It's always odd to me that, other than Chevy and Bill being semi-frequent
hosts up to this point, none of the other core names from the original cast
has ever been brought back to host... and yet Don Novello's was rung up, and
now Paul Shaffer. Of course, Paul's return to 8H is tied to his success as
the iconic bandleader for <i>Late Night with David Letterman</i>, something
he's arguably more recognized for than SNL, but that connective tissue still
feels a bit farfetched. (One wonders if he's here as a mild consolation for
Dave being unable to commit to the show.) Paul's time at SNL was
interesting; while he was always a recognizable, cherished member of the
original house band who frequently got roped up in the show's antics, and
being brought on as a cast member during the tumultuous Season 5 seemed like
a natural progression of his place at the show, he's more charismatic than
dynamic. He brings to this episode what he brought to that season of the
show: the desperately-needed presence of a recognizable face, even though he
was never really predestined to do sketch comedy in the first place.
</p>
<p>
And that's not a bad thing for a host to be. Plenty of hosts have gotten by
on SNL by being fun to watch, regardless of their limitations! Where this
episode fails is that it's simply not a very good outing for the season, and
Paul is the sort of host who can't do anything to make the material that was
written for him better. He was best served when he simply got to be himself
and do what he's good at, scoring a real foot-stomper of a monologue with
his SNL-ized cover of "Dirty Water"—aplomb with go-go dancers and a wicked
G.E. Smith guitar solo—and the sweet, wistful piano ballad that closes out
the night. (I'll return to that later on in the review.) Still, perhaps it's
telling of all the other things in this episode that the most my face lit up
was seeing him jam with G.E. Smith's band in the lead-up to a commercial
break.
</p>
<p>
That's because the more proper sketches that fill at the rest of the episode
were, to put it lightly, a disheartening bunch. Our big post-monologue
sketch, "What's My Addiction?", is the latest edgy stinker courtesy of
Franken and Davis, and tellingly, its existence barred this episode from
ever being rerun. (A mercy killing given the episode's quality? Maybe.)
Perhaps there's something satirically indicting about the idea of the
fictitious game show, with Betty Ford trotting alcoholics out and letting a
distinguished panel of substance abuse-suffering celebrity guests take
guesses at what their ailments are, but I feel like even that gives the
sketch too much credit; it simply wants to play dirty and punch down without
finding a legitimately incisive spin to justify its concept. The sketch with
Paul underscoring a night of sexual conquest with synthesizer stings works a
bit better, and it gives Paul his best chance all episode to charm something
into halfway working, but it doesn't really get over either once you're hit
by the fact that his musical accompaniment is realistically the piece's only
joke.
</p>
<p>
The back-half of this episode also suffers a truly devastating one-two-three
punch of fraughtness. As much as I love bringing different sketch character
together, this episode's Sweeney Sisters sketch is horrendously bogged down
by the choice to merge them with Ching Change for Chinese New Year, with
Paul in tow doing some wince-worthy yellowface work himself; following that
up with a Woody Allen sketch as a chaser is actively nauseating. The
Spanish-speaking "Mexican Kidney Association" sketch completes the trifecta
of <b>fuck</b>, though its unfortunate placement undercuts that it's one of
the night's more interesting pieces—I like these sort of sketches that are
fueled by context clues in the writing, though bizarrely, some of its best
jokes don't scan without being able to understand all of what's being said.
(Phil's pitchman saying treating donating a lung as the same thing as
donating a kidney is the best joke, and it's glossed over entirely.) Perhaps
it's a bit damning that the best proper sketch in the entire night is an
iteration of The Pat Stevens Show, though in all fairness, it <i>is</i> a
pretty good installment. Paul's baldness is just the right topic for Pat to
superficially obsess over ("Well, it crossed my mind a couple times..." "I
know, it's the first thing that crossed mine when I saw you."), and Phil's
aggressive Charlton Heston impression lends everything the right sort of
energy and escalation to rival the droll pattern these sketches tend to
settle into.
</p>
<p>
The most interesting moment of the night, though, and the only moment that's
really worth tuning in for, is Paul's musical number that rounds out the
night, recounting the history of <i>Saturday Night Live</i> to the tune
of "It Was A Very Good Year." I always find it fascinating to see SNL
reflect on itself and its history, especially with as much earnestness as it
does here; it's a fascinating time capsule that also says a lot about how
the show, even though it's only a bit over a decade in, has always been
subtly reconstructing its own past. The failures of Season 11 go unspoken,
but some grim piano chords underline the entrance of Jean Doumanian into the
show's canon; likewise, the bulk of the Ebersol era is glossed over, though
Fernando gets a nod because 1985 was a broken year. Eddie Murphy's lauded as
the show's great savior, while Joe Piscopo has already been turned into a
laughingstock who "snuck into" Eddie's golden years. Perhaps the most
amusing symptom of the times for me is that even though we're at the
doorstep of what would go on to become one of SNL's most stable and beloved
eras, the only thing Paul can say about it so far is, "That liar guy's a
hoot!" We've still got a ways to go, inevitably, as this pretty cruddy
episode points towards.
</p>
<p>
SNL will always have its fair share of morale-crushing episodes—and I,
ironically, am writing this review on the heel of that trainwreck Woody
Harrelson hosting gig—though I still have to wonder why things didn't work
out super well here. This season is usually pretty good at ensuring that a
few strong pieces are snuck into even the weakest hosting efforts, and Paul
certainly isn't as difficult of a presence as some others we've had so far
even if he can't sell a sketch beyond what's on the page; maybe we're still
dusting the cobwebs off after the holiday break and breaking everyone back
into the show. Either way, I hope this episode's struggles are more of a
fluke than a bad omen. <i>(Penned 2/26/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/14/87: Bronson Pinchot / Paul Young (S12E11)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Another week, another tough episode to get a pulse on! In the same way that
I tread lightly upon the most lauded episodes of SNL, I approach the most
notably disliked ones with some level of caution, and while this isn't
exactly a notably bad outing in the grand scheme of SNL's history... it's
certainly not well-liked. There's something about this episode that doesn't
quite work, and it's difficult to parse what exactly that is. A lot of other
people who have written about this episode were quick to point a finger at
our host, Bronson Pinchot himself, which I both agree and disagree on in
equal strokes. My awareness of Bronson as an actor is almost exclusively
limited to his minor but beloved role as the effete, ambiguously-foreign
gallery assistant Serge in <i>Beverly Hills Cop</i>, though that role
also seemingly serves as a microcosm of his career; he cut his teeth across
shows that took advantage of his knack for accents, and he's hosting this
episode ostensibly off the success of a primetime sitcom (<i>Perfect Strangers</i>) where he starred as an Eastern Mediterranean shepherd navigating a new
life in the US. All of that is to say that, while Bronson has a clear
shtick, he's someone with a level of comedic ability that should be
incredibly applicable to success on SNL. Unfortunately, the show greets his
skills with a certain level of ambivalence that often yields deadening
outcomes that seldom feel proportionate to the amount of effort that Bronson
is clearly expounding in his performances.
</p>
<p>
At the same time, though, it's also true that he's a very curious presence.
Compared to the affability other hosts have brought to their episodes this
season, Bronson feels strangely aloof and enigmatic, and it's difficult to
assess what kind of person he is. I think that's caused some people to label
him as a wet blanket, but that also forgoes that he's a very committed
performer across this episode who weaves through all of his material with a
chameleonic sense of efficiency and versatility. I'm left more to wonder, at
the end of the day, if the only reason he looks sort of bad here is because
SNL sets him up to fail—and the fact that his monologue has such a bizarrely
sour and impersonal tone to it instead of letting him show any degree of
playfulness or enthusiasm feels rather indicative of those struggles.
</p>
<p>
He's used most effectively in the only sketch really worth taking away from
this episode, "Amerida," a timely spoof of the controversial miniseries
Amerika that ponders the ramifications of US society in the event of a
Canadian takeover. Regardless of its topicality, it's an evergreen bit of
silliness and satire in two pieces, presenting both a scene from the alleged
series and an ensuing discussion on <i>Nightline</i>, helmed by the debut of
Dana's Ted Koeppel, regarding its plausibility. Truthfully, the first half
is the better half—I love Phil's gruff patriot who refuses to accept the
death of the American way as readily as his wife and daughter (which is
especially entertaining, since Phil's a real-life Canuck)—but the denouement
gives it more purpose and breadth, with Koeppel's panel offering some
amusing insights while poking holes in the entire miniseries' weak
conception. Al Franken's Henry Kissinger is the most entertaining here,
denouncing Amerida's execution as "just stupid" at every turn, but Bronson
also makes for a very amusing Carl Sagan, and Kevin's Brent Musberger,
perpetually hocking CBS, rounds the panel out nicely. Unfortunately, all of
the episode's attempts to give Bronson more of a leading role are a
<i>real</i> struggle to get through. The return of Serge should be a
no-brainer, and pairing him with Nora's Babette character isn't a bad idea,
but it stretches both of the characters' shtick far too thin and suffers
from a meandering beginning that never pays off; meanwhile, the hardware
store sketch has far more structure to it, with Bronson's Italian gigolo
failing to seduce Jan's always-welcome Marge Keister, but the sketch as a
whole is so goddamn slow that it never justifies its peculiar set-up.
</p>
<p>
The confused nature of the episode is further confounded by the frequent
inclusion of its special guest, supermodel Paulina Porizkova. If Season 12
no longer advertises itself with the same sort of baffling co-hosting gigs
that defined the second half of Season 11, it's no less inundated with
special guests that fulfill the same purpose: Paulina isn't a co-host by
mere technicality, despite being <i>all</i> over this episode, and never to
its benefit. I'm not opposed to her presence so much as I'm opposed to SNL's
characteristic inability to use an attractive woman as anything more than
eye candy for the audience to lust after, a sentiment which is borderline
incompatible with humor. Case in point: the show tries to posit the idea of
"The Life of Golda Meir" as vaguely heady, but the joke is literally just
"Look at how seriously we're pretending to take this, when the joke is that
Paulina is pretty but the real Golda Meir was <i>uuuuggly</i>!!", which is
both distasteful in concept and cumbersome in execution. The Sports
Illustrated sketch is more direct about its leering nature, though it's not
particularly interesting either aside from the children actors doing some
amusingly broad reaction work to the pictures in their magazines. Perhaps
most bizarrely of all, she appears in the very superfluous second
installment of "Miss Connie's Fable Nook," which seemingly exists to make
the show's continued insistence on more Derek Stevens sketches seem worthy
by comparison; it's probably the best that Paulina does all night as a
princess who refuses to smile, and there are a few good moments (Kevin's
Lebee being "giddy for two years" after getting a smile out of her made me
laugh), but there was no need for Dennis to dick around like this again
after already proving his point.
</p>
<p>
Beyond that, there's not much else to this episode; it's very insistent on
the special guests doing their things, and it never reaps the benefits of
their involvement. Bronson works his butt off, but is never channeled in
effective ways, while Paulina's presence was entirely unneeded and made an
already-shaky episode worse. If it lacks some of the wilder swings that the
last episode had, its relative strength solely rests in its plodding feel.
The show's gotta do better than this... <i>(Penned 3/05/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/21/87: Willie Nelson (S12E12)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
After a handful of episodes with strange vibes, it's nice to feel the show
returning, ever so gradually, to a stabler place. While this is an episode
with lots of peculiarities, it's one that finds charm in the occasional lack
of slickness rather than feeling difficult—and in that sense, it's the sort
of episode that reminds me that SNL, despite churning out some solid entries
into this season already, is still in a state of metamorphosis. If tonight's
episode doesn't have the sort of host who can effectively shepherd the show
and bring out its best, too, Willie Nelson brings about a certain warmth and
pureness that makes for an especially cozy hour of sketches and cute
miscellany. How could I possibly complain about that?
</p>
<p>
While there have been plenty of eras where episodes have risen and sunk by
the virtues of the person hosting that week, it's nice to see that this next
iteration of the cast is very much able to hold their own without the need
for a strong nucleus. Willie Nelson is a good example of someone who's
enjoyable by the power of their sheer likeability, but who isn't necessarily
the strongest fit for the show; despite the fact that he's ostensibly
promoting his latest movie, Willie's really in the building to offer his
musical abilities and overall magnetism rather than to anchor the episode's
more comic elements. Subsequently, this episode follows the trends of
previous weeks by bringing in a special guest, but trounces the
characteristically jarring selections of the past with
<i>Danny friggin' DeVito</i>!
</p>
<p>
If Danny and Willie feel like an odd coupling in concept, in practice,
Danny's involvement lifts the good vibes this episode already had going for
it to hitherto-unseen levels of delight, and he's a smart grab to help carry
out some of the night's heavy-lifting alongside the cast. He's particularly
well-served in the sting operation sketch, portraying a mafia man hoping to
record his mob buddy's next scheme for the police... only for Danny's mic to
record them celebrating his horrific criminal record in casual conversation
instead. It's a simple premise, but Danny is the perfect subject for the
piece's escalating absurdity, wincing and ineffectually coughing over his
friends' remarks about all the police he's killed and his great success
tripling the organization's smack profits, and the final kicker that their
latest "operation" is simply to fund an inner-city basketball court is a
delightfully cruel way to hammer in that Danny has gained nothing but lost
<i>everything</i>. He's also fantastic in this episode's installment of
"Church Chat," because even when Danny is just being himself on-camera, he's
ebullient. It's not the best iteration of the sketch, but they've already
settled into a nice pattern that ensures success; Danny's little superior
dance back at Church Lady is a sight to behold, and Willie Nelson coming on
as another guest on the show and performing a song with Church Lady makes
for a sweet capper. (Dana hasn't even been a cast member for a full season,
and he already has a hit character that's allowed him to play football with
Joe Montana and Walter Payton, and to perform a duet with Willie Nelson. The
dude is really living his best life.)
</p>
<p>
As for the material more specifically tailored to Willie, it has a certain
flavor that feels pretty different than usual—there's a uniquely countrified
sensibility and no shortage of material on rednecks and white trash, as if
the episode was carefully-tailored with red state America in mind. It's also
a smart way to keep Willie involved without ever asking too much of him
performance-wise, even if the vast majority of those pieces are the night's
lesser offerings. The "Great Moments in White Trash" runner, a series of
vignettes bookended by Willie celebrating the accomplishments of spotlighted
blue-collar nobodies, is fairly slight for how committed the episode is to
using them as a backbone. Likewise, the redneck tanning parlor piece is
cute, and it has some appropriately silly moments of visual comedy (I liked
Phil's right arm being red because it was hanging out the car: "How come
it's your right arm that's red?" "Well I was driving in England!"), but
there's not too much more depth to it than its concept would suggest.
</p>
<p>
The best thing about this episode's choice of themes, though, is that both
Jan and Victoria feel particularly activated, and they bring about the
night's finest segments. While Jan has been consistently killing it all
season, it's great to see her being able to tap into her Southern roots in
this episode, recruiting Bonnie and Terry Turner from her pre-SNL days at
<i>Tush</i> for the night's best sketch, a slice-of-life piece starring her
as a waitress at a truck stop cafe attempting to turn down the advances of
her casual hookup (Willie), who comes into the cafe "once a month, as
regular as cramps." Jan's absolutely flawless in her role, attempting to
resist Willie's bag of tricks by putting her foot down and fiercely
proclaiming that she's a modern, 1980s woman now who wants to take greater
control of her life. To Willie's credit, too, this is his best work of the
night, channeling his signature warmth perfectly into the role and, after a
brief struggle, finally getting Jan to succumb to his charms with the help
of some Patsy Cline playing on the jukebox. Victoria, meanwhile, continues
to be a somewhat complicated performer (and certainly the least versatile of
this current cast), but it feels like she's finding her niche more as time
goes on. While this episode does feature her first handstand commentary on
Weekend Update, an awkwardly jingoistic bit whose comic potential is weighed
down by the subtext of Victoria's real-life patriot nutcasery, it also has
her best contribution to the show up to this point: the very
adorable "Boyfriend Song" duet with Willie. The two of them barely seem
rehearsed, giggling and occasionally muttering their way through it, but
Victoria and Willie have such an endearing connection throughout it; it
feels like a real moment of joy between two people, unhampered by any degree
of complexity, and for once it channel's Victoria's sincerity—one of her
most defining traits—into something warm and baggage-free.
</p>
<p>
There's a few other parts of this episode that don't warrant much
discussion, like yet another Tommy Flanagan piece whose sole bright spot is
that it's the last one of the season until the finale, but as a whole, this
episode works! If it's imperfect, it's more endearing than trying in those
imperfections. While I yearn to see more fully solid shows from this season,
I know that we're still on the ascent; in the meantime, this is the
second-best thing. <i>(Penned 3/14/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/28/87: Valerie Bertinelli / The Robert Cray Band (S12E13)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
What a treat it always is to enter an episode with absolutely zero
expectations and to be rewarded for it! I feel as if much of the most
beloved and lauded episodes of this season—Robin Williams, William Shatner,
and Bill Murray next week to name a few—are episodes whose reputations are
tied to some strong attachment to the host, and the nostalgia-laden identity
they bring to the show. Perhaps that places me in an unfair position, as
they're frequently the episodes I approach with the most skepticism; as
someone chiefly interested in making new discoveries, I find I don't always
align with others in contending with the status of particularly popular
outings of the show. As a critic who covers every single episode SNL,
though, good and bad, I take the the path least taken, through episodes that
may initially appear inconspicuous only to reveal themselves to be forgotten
gems... and that places me in the exciting position of being able to
ardently stand up for the reputation of episodes that have no real
reputation. Case in point: I'm proud to report that this episode, hosted by
someone named Valerie Bertinelli, is <i>pretty goddamn amazing</i>. I'd go
so far as to call it, up to this point, the best episode of the season. Hear
me out.
</p>
<p>
I think that SNL bringing on big hosts with big personalities can be a bit
of a monkey's paw. While sometimes that can work to stunning effect (see:
the likes of Steve Martin, Joan Rivers, and Don Rickles), they can also feel
restrictive by creating insurmountable expectations when things are anything
less than perfect. Of course, on the contrary, an episode hosted by someone
whose qualifications as an SNL host feel dubious can also be a cause for
concern, and there are plenty of times where they've failed to meaningfully
acquit themselves to the process and dragged their episodes down (see: most
of the people who hosted last season, or four out of five athletes).
Nonetheless, the latter tends to create my favorite episodes, because I
think there's a very particular sweet spot: when presented with a host who
fails to inspire, the responsibilities for a night's success falls more
squarely upon the cast to prop the entire operation up. This episode is
exactly that. While Valerie certainly gives this episode what she can and
isn't an explicitly bad host, it feels like having such a non-entity at the
wheel gave everyone else at the show cart blanche to run free, pursuing
their most passionate ideas without any need to restrict themselves or
meaningfully elevate Valerie. Instead, she takes a back-seat and enjoys the
fun alongside the rest of us.
</p>
<p>
Fortunately, too, almost every single thing works! For the sake of knocking
the night's big offenders out of the way, though: yes, Ching Change was
back. Is he the worst recurring character in the show's history? It's hard
to say, because at least every installment up to this point has had
something different going on, but it's certainly one of the most fraught
attempts at a big character SNL has ever had, and the introduction of Nora
as Ching's sister (hold for applause), <i>Loose</i> Change, brings the
sketch to a whole new level of pain. While nowhere near as offensive, the
episode's cold open also felt a bit disappointing, though that's how cold
opens, historically, tend to be on SNL; it just felt underwhelming, in the
wake of the brilliant "President Reagan, Mastermind" sketch for the show to
default to a toothlessly doddering characterization for Reagan. Perhaps
portraying the president as a deceptive, evil genius wasn't a sustainable
game plan, but this sketch is basically proof that this season's superior
cast is simply more adept at selling weak writing than last season's—Phil
has all the "well"s and "mommy"s of Randy's Reagan from Season 11, but his
charisma is able to carry it just a <i>little</i> further.
</p>
<p>
It's across the night's other offerings that Phil truly shines and continues
to further the argument, only thirteen episodes in, that he's one of the
best to ever do SNL. This episode is Phil's biggest night yet, and there's
definitely something of a correlation between his involvement, as well as
his strong connection to his fellow castmates, and the episode's overall
success. The "Discover" sketch, debuting his Peter Graves impression, stands
out as a particularly strong highlight; it's ridiculously simple, with Phil
traipsing horrifically through Jon's presentation on elements and the forms
of matter, but it's the mixture of arrogance and sheer ineptitude that his
characterization exudes which sells everything so perfectly. The cartoonish
escalation of it, too—with Phil knocking the world's densest element off a
pedestal, sending it crashing multiple stories through the floor, and
foiling another of Jon's displays by absentmindedly exposing both him and
Jon to lethal amounts of radiation—are stellar, sending Jon's beleaguered
straight man character into a frenzy while Phil stares vacantly forward. His
later team-up with Jan in the "On Broadway" sketch is just as good, with his
actor character Ross Treadway lashing out at Jan's interviewee about the
pressure he's under as Yul Brynner's replacement in a production of
<i>The King and I</i>. Again, there's not necessarily a lot to the idea, but
the sheer, short-fused fury in Phil's characterization, ranting and raving
about the legacy he has to contend with is a joy to behold, allowing Phil to
unleash his darker streaks to legitimately astonishing effect. Shout-out to
Nora's walk-on as his wife at the end of the sketch, too; while Phil's
aggressiveness throughout the sketch is great, her emotional defense of her
husband against his naysayers—"You all seem to want Yul Brynner? <i>Dig him up</i>."—is a brilliant crescendo.
</p>
<p>
Another thing I appreciate about this episode is that it really leans into
some exciting, more intelligently conceptual fare, which feels like one of
this season's strengths. I hesitate to think of any previous year in the
show's history where they could've stumbled upon an idea as silly and
specific as "Hard News Cafe," imagining a Hard Rock Cafe equivalent
dedicated to the worship of great newsmen, let alone execute it at such an
absurdly high level: all of the little details are great, from the fact that
Geraldo Rivera is permanently banned from the establishment to the diners
shouting and flagging down Nora's waitress like journalists trying to signal
attention at a press conference. Throw in some fun news anchor impressions
from the cast (Dana's reliable Ted Koeppel, Kevin's Sam Donaldson) and a
great cameo from Edwin Newman as the restaurant's bouncer and you've got a
sketch that manages to triumph over its niche idea with a very universal
sense of goofiness. The opera singer doctor sketch that rounds the episode
out is similarly bizarre, with Jon's incompetent doctor sulking around,
errantly killing his patients while bemoaning the opera career he never
pursued; while it might've just been another excuse for Jon to show off his
pipes, all of the little details surrounding it are perfect, most of all
Valerie's nurse buzzing Jon's intercom a minute after bringing in his next
patient to ask if he's dead yet.
</p>
<p>
Last but certainly not least, while I so rarely know how to acknowledge the
show's musical guests in my reviews, a review of this episode wouldn't
possibly be complete without mentioning that both The Robert Cray Band and
surprise guest Eddie Van Halen (Valerie's husband, conveniently) absolutely
<i>rocked</i>. It's actively unfair that Robert Cray would be so undermined,
so I'll at least take the moment to point out that their brand of soulful
blues rock was quite a delight in a season that, quite frankly, has been
lacking particularly invigorating musical performances up to this point. But
also: Eddie Van Halen rocking out with G.E. Smith and the SNL house band
with an original song he wrote alongside them, "Stompin' 8H"... again, it's
actively unfair to poor Robert Cray, but watching Eddie and G.E. exchange
guitar solos and smiling at each other with childlike glee made for one of
the most intensely fun, epic musical performances in the entire show's
history. I don't frequently award points in my episode scores for music, but
let's just say that they tilt the dial even more in the episode's favor. (On
the topic of Eddie Van Halen, I also quite liked the the "Dinner at the Van
Halens" sketch he appeared in alongside Valerie, with Kevin, Dana, and
Dennis' roadies scrambling about and treating their intimate dinner party
like a concert gig that needs to run at peak efficiency. Fun, energetic
stuff!)
</p>
<p>
While it's always fun seeing a host who can really bring something new to
the show, nights like this serve as a reminder that a good host, while
capable of significantly elevating SNL, is only half the equation. The joys
of the show will always be seeing what the cast can come up with every week,
and while Valerie Bertinelli doesn't offer them much assistance, she doesn't
have to—if there were any episode this season to demonstrate that the cast
and writers can be fully trusted without any extra assistance, it's this
one. <i>(Penned 3/25/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">3/21/87: Bill Murray / Percy Sledge (S12E14)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Despite the fact that alum episodes of SNL are still a rare novelty by this
point in the series' run—due to Gilda's hosting stint next season being
tragically cancelled, there wouldn't be another one for five years,
surprisingly—it's interesting to observe how much the general pattern to
them has already taken form. We sort of know what we'll get: the favorites
will be reprised, and when the episode is able to triumph over the easy wins
of overfamiliar nostalgia content, there might even be some big swings taken
indebted to how much the host is willing to put on the line. The success of
these sorts of episodes is always a spectrum (the recent Molly Shannon
episode fits that brief, though it's a bit unremarkable), but when things
really coalesce, you can get a real barn burner. Case in point: while Bill
Murray's S12 hosting gig has its fair share of lukewarm sketch reprisals
from the show's heyday, it fills out the rest of its runtime with a mixture
of low-key delights and absolute <i>insanity</i>, and even when those modes
for the show don't always hit, there's something audacious about its whole
vibe that feels undeniably alluring.
</p>
<p>
It's funny to say, because I do greatly enjoy Bill Murray, but so much of
the episode's success feels like it comes from how much it deviates from his
established bag of tricks. For however much his smug, schmoozy persona
persists throughout the night (to the delight of the audience), his greatest
moments across the episode as a performer are the ones that feel more
disarming. I don't think that's entirely by design, but it's a noticeably
accentuating effect; when you have bits like the obligatory, seven
minute-long reprisal of Nick the Lounge Singer, or Bill's smug Oscar picks
segment operating as tone-setters, all the moments that find a more
unexpected tone resonate even <i>harder</i>. I always enjoy the moments
where Bill is able to shed his farcical, show-biz phony persona and play
more down-to-earth characters, and the scene casting him as a massive loser
who blithely interprets a drunken, one-night stand with his long-time,
unreciprocated crush (Jan) as the start of their new life together is a
particularly outstanding display for those underrated acting abilities.
Slice-of-life material is in constant decline as the show forges onwards,
but this one is excellent, and it speaks to the fact that just because a
sketch is nuanced and carefully lived-in doesn't mean that it can't have
massive laughs; Jan is absolutely outstanding in her disgust at Bill,
screaming and squirming at all of his advances and tirelessly expressing her
discontent with him ("You have none of the qualities that I'm looking for in
a man. As a matter of fact, you have no qualities."), and Bill, again, sells
his guileless loser character with the sort of precision that only an SNL
pro could.
</p>
<p>
On the very opposite end of the spectrum, this episode also features an
astonishingly dark sketch with Bill taking the role of a monstrously abusive
father who belittles and mocks his children (Dana and Victoria) for their
inability to be perfect at all of their endeavors. Domestic abuse is a theme
that the show can rarely get to work in how much its unpleasantness risks
being cheap shock (see "The Crosby Show" from earlier this season), and
while this sketch isn't able to fully overcome my reservations, it fights
far harder than you'd ever expect to demonstrate that it isn't simply
tasteless for tastelessness' sake—and the ending, with Dana finally taking a
lethal shot at his old man and being warmly gratified for finally stepping
it up ("It wasn't a cardiac hit, but it's a good hit! Damn good hit!") as
Bill dies with a smile on his face... it's a delightfully twisted out that
gives all of the nastiness of the rest of the sketch its purpose. If it
speaks to the astonishingly dark streak that this night of sketch comedy
has, that's not even the darkest sketch of the night, either; that honor
goes to the piece where Phil plays a doctor who maintains an
initially-impressive track record of birthing exclusively girls by
mutilating the genitalia of every boy he delivers to turn them into girls,
too. There's a concerning nature to Phil's rhetoric in retrospect, as
he monologues insidiously about freeing the "little girls trapped in little
boys' bodies"; while these sorts of themes weren't particularly pervasive in
mainstream 80s culture, that doesn't really stop the sketch from feeling
like the final visions of a dying Republican in the 2020s. Nevertheless,
there's clearly no ulterior motives to the piece, and approaching it from a
perspective of good faith, it's a deliciously shocking bit that Phil sells
with maniacal aplomb.
</p>
<p>
Speaking of Phil being characteristically amazing, he reprises his fantastic
Phil Donahue impression from earlier in the season in an even better
sketch—and despite Bill's absence, it's probably the best piece in the
entire episode. There's always a joy to watching Phil in literally any
sketch he does, because regardless of the quality of its writing, you're
witnessing a performer who is always in their element, but these sketches up
to this point in his tenure capture him at his most captivating. Every
choice he makes, every sweeping motion and modulation in his delivery, is
absolutely superb; even just the way he starts the sketch abruptly by
declaring, direct to camera, "SEX IS GOOD!", got a belly laugh out of me.
And as the sketch unfurls into an elaborate ensemble piece about "the new
celibacy," working through a panel of guests who have stumbled one way or
another upon an abstinent lifestyle, the laughs don't stop. Nora rants in
disgust about the disgusting sexual encounter she had which destroyed her
life, which Phil reveals was with Joe Piscopo; Victoria politely expresses
that she's waiting until marriage, only for Phil to tell the audience that
"Until a year ago, she was the trashiest, trampiest little mattress back in
her school."; and Jon, hilariously, is a 34 year-old virgin who can't even
get prostitutes to deflower him. ("So in your case, celibacy has nothing to
do with a fear of sexually-transmitted diseases." "Oh, I would take that
chance in a second, belieeeve me!" Also: love that all they had to do to
make Jon look right for the role was put him in a turtleneck.) Concluding
the sketch with a two-minute long, incoherent monologue as Phil rambles
off-stage, and through the hallways of 8H to get a bite to eat, is just
about the most perfect way to finish things off; it's a legitimate feat of
performance, and Phil expertly maneuvers about it with the sort of
effortless grace that makes him seem like a sketch comedy savant.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode is a mix of little curiosities that play out to
varying effect, but which grant a nice sense of variety to things even if
they don't fully succeed. The Hercules sketch (a trunk piece of Jim Downey
on Tom Davis') is one of the night's more unique offerings, undercutting the
darkness of the material that surrounds it with amiable goofiness. I love
the angle of a live sketch that riffs on shoddy ADR dubbing, with Bill,
Dana, and Nora miming along, with slight delay and inconsistency, to other
performers' voices; having Downey voice Bill's out-of-shape Hercules with
his masterfully flat deadpan ("That boulder is too large. I could lift a
smaller one.") is particularly enjoyable in its incongruity. There's also
something to the episode's Honker piece, even if I can't really get a pulse
on it. As far as Bill's recurring characters go, I want to appreciate how
Honker is fed into different concepts instead of as firm of a template as,
say, Nick the Lounge Singer, and using him here in a very low-key piece that
riffs on the idea of an awkward, disconnected conversation between cab
driver (Honker) and passenger isn't bad; it's just such a muted way to end
the night that you risk missing the darker narrative to it all. Still,
credit for the attempt at something different.
</p>
<p>
As a whole, it's a bit disappointing that a lot of the old rehashes hurt the
flow of this episode, though I guess they were built into this episode from
the very start. If part of the deal with Bill Murray is that we have to
accept some smarm, lounge-singing, and Oscar picking in exchange for genital
mutilation and patricide, then dammit, I guess I'm just glad that we got
there! And for however much Bill is a conduit for much of the night's
material, it's telling that its greatest successes are when control is ceded
to the show's new voices. Perhaps we don't need alums hosting to legitimize
the show after all.
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">3/28/87: Charlton Heston / Wynton Marsalis (S12E15)</b>
</p>
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<p>
In his monologue, Charlton Heston laments that he's never really gotten to
do comedy throughout his treasured career, but if the episode is any
indication, that was no great loss. While having such a treasured star from
the golden age of Hollywood was, no doubt, a massive get for the show, he
ended being another in that long line of SNL hosts over the years who,
across their hosting gig, answer the question, "Why didn't this person do
live comedy sooner?" That's not to say he's bad, but he's not particularly
good, either; he's as good as he has to be for the night to go off without a
hitch, but he isn't at the level of being able to get elevate material
beyond what's written for him—and that becomes a general hurdle once it
becomes clear that this outing for the show won't be up to very much at all.
</p>
<p>
It's strange how this episode has such a uniform sense of slightness to all
of its material, especially in a season which frequently aims for a more
intellectual approach to its comedy. It's not that I'm opposed to that
simplicity, either. I think there's a lot of fun to be had with more
abstract, simplistic premises that simply exist to be silly; the issue
becomes when that concept is the throughline of an entire night's worth of
material, and that there's no ebb and flow so much as the episode stays
firmly in one gear that increasingly tests your ability to invest. Through
it all, too, Charlton has one mode: unflinchingly serious. It serves the
pieces well in their lack of complexity, but there's a difference between
fierce commitment for comedy's sake and being carried by the performers
around you to give the scenes their humor.
</p>
<p>
Sometimes that things work out in the episode, despite those impediments. My
favorite sketch of the night, despite only being about two minutes long, was
the bluntly-titled "The President Has Mustard On His Chin," a spoof on
political thrillers where the sole conflict is that the president's most
trusted advisors are too scared to tell him that there's residual mustard on
the side of his face. It's the only sketch of the night that I wish, in
spite of its thin nature, could've gone on longer; it nails everything that
it's aiming for by taking its juvenile premise so seriously, and Charlton is
perfectly cast, playing the President with such a strong, menacing sense of
authority while ignorantly smearing food all over his face. I also found
some enjoyment in "The Fruitening," a fake horror trailer where a family is
ruthlessly antagonized by evil fruit; it's so gleefully dumb that it could
very well be an <i>All That</i> sketch, but it reaps the benefits of both
Phil and Nora's strengths as actors to take things to the next level.
Unfortunately, there's also an equal number of times where the show is
failed by its lack of complexity. While there's some concoction of parody
and satire to "The New Paper Chase" which is lost to the time fog, the idea
of a drama about college students struggling to fight through a class on
blackjack only finds the occasional bout of amusement, and it squanders it
by going on far, far longer than it should with an unneeded ending tag.
(It's at least amusing to see Phil playing a student alongside Dana and
Victoria, since he looks more like a college professor than most college
professors do.) Prolonging also does a lot to mar this episode's Sweeney
Sisters sketch, which commences with a labored, three minute-long setup
about Phil tricking Charlton (as himself) into coming to a banquet at the
opening of a zoo's new primate house—because <i>Planet of the Apes</i>, ha
ha!—that derails things before they can even start. Jan and Nora are at
least in fine form, breaking into a very amusing cover of "The Lion Sleeps
Tonight," if you can muster the goodwill.
</p>
<p>
Slightness even affects the episode's most notable offering, "The Hustler of
Money," an outside film marking the television debut of future (short-lived)
cast member and comedy superstar, Ben Stiller. He's a delight in this,
mugging up a storm with his Tom Cruise impression, but the film itself is no
great shakes; it simply asks the question, "What if
<i>The Color of Money</i> were about bowling instead of pool?" I'm sure some
of its humor is lost on me for not getting the deeper cultural references,
but in a night where every sketch can already be reduced to "x, but with x,"
I can't reserve that much patience for it. There's only one sketch in the
entire episode that aspires for more and aims at a higher concept, the slave
drivers piece set in ancient Egypt, but even against a night where so many
sketches have one joke, it manages to be the most painfully sluggish; aside
from a great, two-line performance from Nora as the pharaoh's wife ("It
looks stupid! Put them to death!"), there's no laughs to be found to the
premise, and the idea is too long of a walk to a punchline that's so lame
that it doesn't really bear repeating.
</p>
<p>
This episode also, bizarrely, features sketches based around two entirely
separate televangelist controversies which is... a choice? The more notable
of the two is this week's edition of Church Chat, which is apparently one of
the most legendary installments, though I feel like that's only because of
its inclusion on multiple Best Of compilation. Bringing Jim and Tammy Faye
Bakker onto the program is the sort of no-brainer idea that writes itself,
and they're kind of perfect real-world subjects for Church Lady to
aggressively chastise, but is a sketch that writes itself necessarily the
best thing? There's too much of a zeitgeisty flavor for me to care, and
while the sketch illuminates their various controversies, it never does so
in a way that feels particularly transcendent; I much prefer the timeless
charms of Church Lady's previous two installments with Willie and the
football boys. There's also a thing about Oral Roberts for the cold open,
and God telling him he's been very bad? Cool.
</p>
<p>
If there's one person who injects some energy into this episode, it's the
musical guest, jazz trumpeter Wynton Marsalis. It's rare to see some classic
jazz on the SNL stage, but Marsalis makes a strong case for how much of a
mistake that is; his performances of "J Mood" and "Juan (E. Mustaad)" are
absolute bliss, packed with amazing solos for every member of his tight-knit
quintet—and based on the audience's uproarious applause after each one, he
has the whole studio in a trance. Can't blame them one bit. If only the rest
of this episode were half as punchy; while this season of SNL certainly
isn't bad, this week is another reminder that Season 12, despite its moments
of visible strength, is a season of transition, and that the show's new
identity is still in the process of being forged.
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">4/11/87: John Lithgow / Anita Baker (S12E16)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It's no great surprise that, aside from Chevy Chase, John Lithgow is the
first host from S11 to make a proper return, nor that he'd go onto become a
mildly perennial host for the era. His episode from the previous season is
one of the few times that things really <i>connected</i> at the show; even
with a discombobulated cast, he was able to shine with his effervescent
screen presence and lift everyone else alongside him. Naturally, then, I was
excited to see how he would fare working with a far better cast, and
participating in SNL on the rise... and yet somehow, S11 did it better, a
sentiment I thought I would never say about <i>anything</i>.
</p>
<p>
I think I've talked about it before, but one of my favorite things to
examine with regards to sketch is how a show is structured, how the energy
is maintained from one piece to the next and the critical positions for the
best pieces of a given show to register and the worst pieces to float along
without grinding things to a halt. There have been plenty of episodes with
inconsistent material saved by a mastery of that ebb and flow, and there
have been about as many episodes that have sunk despite the good material
within them. This outing feels like a classic case of an SNL episode which
has doomed itself to being a complete non-starter because it can never gain
momentum; if anything, it almost hits a pattern of alternating hits and
misses, perpetually knocking the wind out of itself every time it threatens
to rebound. It's all the more frustrating because John is as game as always,
but for all the opportunities that he gets to take advantage of that
enthusiasm, the material itself so rarely connects.
</p>
<p>
At its worst, the episode feels like it actively jinxes itself. After last
season's horrible "Cleveland Vice" sketch, it's bold as hell for this season
to reattempt the idea with "Laramie Vice," and the gambit doesn't really pay
off a huge amount better. The full extent of its value is in the fact that
it's a further testament to how strong this new cast is that, by simply
being as competent as they are, they can sell shitty material and make it
seem halfway decent rather than letting it implode on itself, and true to
form, Jan, Phil, and Dana are able to wring some good fun out of it because
they're so enthralling to watch. Still, when the hardest laughs come from
John and Kevin entering scenes and waving their guns around like
jackasses—as legitimately funny as that is—you're not on particularly solid
ground. And that's our <i>post-monologue sketch</i>! Similarly, if not as
bad, the sequel to Phil's classic "Discover with Peter Graves" sketch also
feels ill-advised, at least in the manner that this second iteration has
been conceived. While there's no reason that it shouldn't theoretically work
as a recurring sketch (which it would go on to be through to next season),
Victoria is nowhere near the foil that Jon was in the original and is fully
unable to sell the slow-burning exasperation that her role requires. The
writing also simply isn't as good, swapping out the variables of the
original sketch with lesser jokes, which is rather disappointing for a Phil
showcase. (There's also another Pat Stevens sketch to add onto this
episode's weird glut of iffy recurrers, and aside from some prime glowering
from Phil, nothing about it works.)
</p>
<p>
Most of the episode's bright spots stem from the one place where this
episode seems to have actually taken notes from John's last hosting gig:
after discovering their shocking compatibility, the show's smart to
capitalize on John and Jon's chemistry, and their multiple two-handers here
stand out as the few moments where this episode truly sings. Of all the
sketches that get repeated tonight, the return of Master Thespian and John's
Baudelaire was the most warmly-received. John is simply so excellent in
these that it feels like these sketches almost shouldn't exist without him;
watching the two wax theatric ("What is the question du jour?") while
playing the dumbest schoolyard pranks on each other as a demonstration of
their brilliant acting ability is the sort of simple joy that I can never
truly tire of, and the subtler, bittersweet undertones as Baudelaire ponders
his retirement ("The grave awaits. I shall live out my days in the old
actor's home, gumming the occasional pudding.") add some extra volume. John
and Jon also pair up nicely in the night's best original sketch, a silly
piece where John's cab driver speeds across the entire United States to get
Jon's groom to his wedding on the other side of the country. It's the sort
of crude, gleeful absurdity that I love seeing from these years, what with
its hectic green-screening and the occasional wide shots of a model car
being pelted by rain and snow, and the great, cartoonish details in the
writing (John and Jon throwing handfuls of quarters out the window at
impending tollbooths, Phil's traffic cop complaining of them melting his
speedometer) keeps things moving with a delightful freneticism.
</p>
<p>
Outside of those, though? Not too much to cling onto, even if there's
nothing outright terrible. John submits a fun performance in "Reverend
Dwight Henderson: World's Meanest Methodist Minister," responding with
condescension to all the churchgoers who seek his holy advice, but as a
sketch whose premise is explained away in its deliberately ridiculous title,
there's not much here in terms of surprise; it sets its sights on the basic
idea that it has, and it simply does it precisely as you'd expect, allowing
the performances to guide things along more than anything else. The
black-and-white sketch that finishes off the night, "The Fighter," isn't too
remarkable, either, despite capitalizing further on the John-Jon
partnership. It's stylish as these era's sketches so frequently are, but the
simple joke that John's boxer is worthy of contempt as everyone punches down
on him harder and harder feels too aimless with its meanspirited tone
despite its attempts at different angles—it might as well be a modern-day
Jonah Hill humiliation sketch. The most truly rousing part of the episode is
Anita Baker, who adorably enjoys every second of her screentime while
delivering some stellar, soulful performances of "Sweet Love" and "Same Ol
Love"; she clearly had more love to give this episode than the writers did.
</p>
<p>
John's greatest attribute is simply that he can sell anything, but there's
only so much use that has when the material can't match his dedication.
Finger crossed that his next (and final) gig can be more fulfilling.
<i>(Penned 5/29/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">4/18/87: John Larroquette / Timbuk 3 (S12E17)</b>
</p>
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<p>
I feel as if, to some extent, Season 12 was sold to me as like night and day
compared to Season 11, and by this point, it's obvious that's not
<i>fully</i> true. It's not that this season doesn't surpass that one in
just about every regard; I just think that whole argument belies the fact
that it's still figuring itself out. I've probably made that point about
twenty times across the last sixteen reviews, but in this case, it's in the
service of a broader thesis: the John Larroquette episode is, in my opinion,
one of the most representative of where the show, in Season 12, is currently
at. There's a very distinct flavor to things—a uniform cleverness, writerly
sensibilities, and an approach which is often more conceptual than
performer-driven despite the wealth of brilliant talent—and while it isn't
always successful, it's easy to admire its ambitions and frequent moments of
success. There are certainly <i>better</i> episodes in this season, but this
one speaks to both its strengths and occasional difficulties rather adroitly
on top of being a rather enjoyable outing of SNL in its own right.
</p>
<p>
Assisting in the episode's overall sense of success is the fact that John
Larroquette is a pretty fantastic host. This hasn't really been the greatest
season for first-timers, despite the fact that some less-than-stellar hosts
have still done well with what they were handed, so seeing someone
relatively unsuspecting brought into the show who instantly clicks with the
format is especially electrifying. You can just <i>feel</i> the level of
trust that the show has in him, and while sometimes that can cause SNL to
coast along (see John Lithgow last week), Larroquette seems to light a fire
under the show, inspiring a litany of fun or otherwise daring pieces that he
carries along with a level of playfulness and unwavering commitment that
makes him feel like an honorary cast member. There's perhaps no better
example of that confidence than the "Instant Coffee" sketch, which he helped
co-write; it's a dense piece and perhaps difficult to approach, but he and
Jan flesh out their haughty, local actors with a truly lived-in sense of
pretension, leaping over the risk of cliché as it if never even existed.
That it concludes with an excerpt from their newest production, a musical
about Jackie and John F. Kennedy ("To date, no one has been able to capture
the glory and pathos of that clan, <i>and</i> set it to music.") offers
another layer of bizarre specificity, and whereas it's a bit difficult to
parse, Jan and John are such a captivating pair that it's sort of a marvel
to behold regardless.
</p>
<p>
That sort of headiness dominates much of the night's material, and while it
occasionally doesn't work as well as I'd hope, there's something to respect
about all of its endeavors. My favorite sketch of the night is a great
example of the sort of brilliant, conceptual stupidity that S12 can be so
adept at: John's detective enters the scene of a murder and begins to
cautiously bag evidence with his pencil, only for all of the cops in the
room to become increasingly invested in testing his ability to bag the
trickiest objects they can find in the room. It's the most perfect kind of
nonsense, and John executes his role perfectly, selling his intense focus as
he carefully balances the likes of an encyclopedia, microwave, and eyelash
on his pencil to the utter delight of his onlookers—and although the ending
doesn't quite punch as hard as it could for whatever reason, there's such a
pure sense of fun to everything else that it's hardly worth complaining
about. The heaven scene is similarly simplistic, though deceptively
writerly, with the recently-deceased John spending some of his first moments
in the afterlife asking Dana's saint a string of questions about his life
and the mysteries of the universe. It's a bit too low-key to fully work, and
not all of the answers are inherently humorous (I think things de-escalate
as the questions become less personal and more broad, with a few
exceptions), but I really like what it's trying for, and once again, John
manages to find a magnificent level of nuance in his role. The fact that he
responds to hearing of all his missed opportunities (that he failed to
discover the great riches of a treasure chest buried five inches below him,
and that the role he was ideally suited for was to be the President of the
United States) with more of an "aw, shucks!" attitude, laughing off his
misfortunes rather than feeling any degree of anguish, is a subtle notion
that the sketch is all the better off for. (I can only imagine seeing this
sketch through the context of current SNL, with Mikey Day screaming into his
hands.)
</p>
<p>
On the other end of the spectrum, energy-wise, is this episode's unhinged
Phil showcase, casting him as John's overly-aggressive, scornful
mother-in-law. It feels like a sketch that shouldn't work as well as it
does, but it's all in the impeccable performances on display. Phil manages
to take a hacky drag role and twist it into something so intensely volatile,
switching between a doting mother to Jan and an absolute demon to John...
and to John's credit, he's also perfect as Phil's foil, whose anger
ultimately boils over (after an accidental electrocution) into an <i>insane</i>
brawl. In other hands, it would feel too broad for its own good, but
everyone is so ferociously dedicated to the madness that it manages to
transcend the slightly contrived setup—a good omen for the seasons to come,
as the writing begins to loosen from its current, more highbrow interests.
We also get the enigma store sketch in this episode, which reaffirms those
tones and the occasional uphill battle that accompanies them. There's such
an arch specificity to it, with Jan and John's stuffy shop owners scamming
celebrity customers with "an exhilarating glimpse of the unknown," when all
their mystery grab bags are simply full of corn cob pipes at exorbitant
prices; the fact that it also serves as a showcase for some more bizarre
impressions (Nora's Jackie Stallon, Dana's... <i>very</i> Dana take on John
Travolta) seems to offer further complications on whatever the base idea of
the sketch is supposed to be, too. With that being said, it's kind of
fascinating to watch? Clearly SNL themselves weren't quite sure what to make
of it either, cutting it from all subsequent reruns, though I think there's
some value in it as an oddity that, yet again, shows how much John brought
to the material.
</p>
<p>
Last but not least, although it's not anything that I can really account
into the episode's grade, the goodnights feature a very sweet tribute to
departing crew member Al Camoin, NBC's long-time cameraman. It's a precious
moment, and a reminder of how young television was as a medium in 1987; as
the go-to camera operator in 8H, he contributed to 37 years of television,
from <i>Your Show of Shows</i>, to the perpetually swiped-at
<i>Hullaballoo</i>, to the past 12 years of SNL. Phil recalls the cast
huddling around him as they were regaled with stories from his treasured
career, Victoria gets in a silly joke that she wished she'd taken the time
to say hi to him once, and the night swiftly closes out with one final bit
of fancy camerawork from Al as the camera descends through the hallways of
8H and out of the studio entirely. You don't see a lot of moments like that
in the modern show, which is a shame—the reverence SNL has for its
behind-the-scenes crew in these years is one of those small things that
makes SNL feel all the more alive. Coincidental or not, Al chose a pretty
solid episode to go out on.
</p>
<p>
While I'm done playing this "will they, won't they" game of whether or not
Season 12 will find its footing and really start firing on all cylinders
(could the show ever truly reach that place?), I'm just grateful that it's
finding its successes and granting a strong host the sort of night that they
deserve. Can't wait to see what's in store for John when he returns in a few
seasons! <i>(Penned 6/11/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">5/09/87: Mark Harmon / Suzanne Vega (S12E18)</b>
</p>
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<p>
While it may not be as evident to anyone reading all of these reviews
published together, it's been some time since I've approached Season 12, and
I wonder how much of that can be attributed to this episode—it's a hard one
to approach, let alone come back to and be saddled with the task of
dissecting. I mean look, this is SNL. Not every episode is gonna be a
winner, and to be an SNL fan is to readily accept that fact. That doesn't
make a difficult episode any easier to bear, though, and as is the case
here, in the end it just feels dispiriting to see that the elaborate,
high-wire act of putting on a live hour of sketch in only a week's time
didn't tumble into many fruitful places.
</p>
<p>
To his credit, kinda, I don't know how much Mark Harmon can be blamed for
the episode's quality. He comes across as a blank slate here, but he's at
least willing to entertain whatever the show throws at him and does
everything they ask him to do well enough; the show's worked with far more
difficult talent. I think it's more a matter of the show not having a sense
of how to utilize him as anything more than a bland guy who, as the host, is
mandated to anchor the night's sketches from time to time. He fares the best
in the handful of pieces that directly acknowledge his place within pop
culture, most notably as an unlikely sex icon (or at least... unlikely to
<i>me</i>) in the sketch imagining of the "People Magazine's Sexiest Man
Alive" pageant that awarded him his title. It's not a particularly exciting
piece and it suffers from some plodding setup, though it does offer a
handful of fun novelties; not only does it serve as a substitute for the
show's monologue slot, which I'm always a sucker for, but it offers up some
intriguing recurring character cross-overs, with Pat Stevens and Peter
Graves serving as joint pageant emcees. The jokes themselves weren't
anything too special though, and for a sketch ostensibly framed around Mark,
he's left with very little to do in terms of getting laughs aside from
looking very clueless and naive while his competitor, Jon's F. Murray
Abraham, is unequivocally roasted. The episode comes the closest to
understanding Mark's innate charm in the brief ad spoof, remarking upon his
cunning ability to sell anything to anyone: "You can thank your lucky stars
that I chose to sell beer and not foreign policy or nuclear energy." Even
so, it's a disposable piece—so disposable that it would be lopped out of
future reairings.
</p>
<p>
Perhaps the most unique thing about this episode is that Jack Handey returns
as a guest writer this week, after his short writing stint during Season 11
and directly before he rejoins for Season 13 for his celebrated reign of
writerly weirdness, though his contributions to this episode are sadly
lacking. "Attila the Hun: The Early Years" feels the closest to working in
that inimitable, Handey way, observing the tumult between young Attila's
familial expectations of taking over the Huns versus his desire to foster
his creative side and create mobiles, but it's never able to come together;
while there's some mild humor in portraying young Attila as a deeply
sensitive boy, it's simply unable to carry the premise far, and the sketch
quickly gets lost in its own specificity as if being so specific is funny in
and of itself. His salmon spawning sketch later in the episode, examining
the plight of the mate-seeking salmon during a salmon run, is pretty
uninteresting too. I can see it working as a short story perhaps, or even
just on the page, but in execution, with the disorienting green screen
effects and elaborate fish headgear, it comes across as bizarrely cutesy.
Hopefully next season he'll be able to make more of an impact; I'm sure the
introduction of other like-minded weirdos like Conan and Bob Odenkirk into
the writing staff will help him chart his course more effectively.
</p>
<p>
Further hurting this episode is the considerable amount of timely material
that means absolutely nothing to any modern viewer. Obviously, when I
approach old episodes of the show, I try to be patient and acknowledge that,
as a satirical and ephemeral show, there won't always be material that I
fully understand; I also have the opinion, though, that a truly great piece
will be successful regardless of how much context the viewer has, and that
it'll be able to succeed as comedy by virtue of its own strengths. This
episode has no such pieces, though, and while there may have been some
enjoyment to be had during this week in May, 1986, I got absolutely nothing
out of the <i>Charlie's Angels</i> spoof covering potential presidential
nominees, or the droll Jim Downey courtroom sketch covering the Hart-Rice
scandal, or as usual, Dennis Miller's anal scrounging at Weekend Update. (A.
Whitney Brown contributes a decent, more general commentary at the very
least; poking merciless holes at the American Dream as a concept remains
biting satirically.) The nice thing about being able to write these essay
reviews is that I can casually omit material when I simply have no interest
in covering it rather than feeling pressure to being a completionist, which
makes it all the more frustrating when an episode insists upon itself so
strongly with the sort of topical content that I delight in snipping out of
my coverage. I have no other choice here than to call it out, in this case:
it's rough!
</p>
<p>
But then, the Mark Harmon episode doesn't have to be too timely for its
content to falter: we also have yet another Ching Change sketch, and as
usual, it brings me legitimate pain! I can see why this would be one of the
more well-liked iterations, with Ching's sister Loose getting involved with
a Japanese gang member and his posse (complete with silly fight
choreography), but adding more performers into the equation to do yellowface
is the opposite of a solution to these recurring sketch's underlying
problem: that they're hacky, racist dreck. Other segments are less fraught,
but I'm no more convinced of their inclusion in the episode: there's a
strange pretape where the cast dubs over several children at a party, which
is pretty dire aside from the masterstroke of attaching Phil's booming voice
to a four year-old boy ("Go min-gleee! Mingleeee!"), and there's a
commercial for a bible for cats that even Phil and the presence of some
adorable kitties can't salvage. If there's one truly brilliant, saving grace
for this episode, it's the 10-to-1, one of my favorite Kevin Nealon pieces
of all time. It's a simple idea, but executed perfectly, with Kevin's
boardwalk sketch artist drawing his subject Victoria with a level of
assuredness that belies his sheer ineptitude. ("The nose is the hardest
feature to draw," he states, pausing thoughtfully for a moment before
drawing a <i>massive swoop</i> across the page.) It works a bit better
with a more unsuspecting guest—<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92vtSZbnTh8">see him do it with Conan many decades later</a>, where I first encountered this bit of his—and I can imagine it being far
more lively with an audience member in one of his live shows, but it's such
a robust blend of writing and performance, and so quintessentially Nealon,
that it succeeds regardless.
</p>
<p>
Is the fact that the night's best sketch a trunk piece a bit damning?
Perhaps, but hey, I'm just happy to get some true enjoyment out of the
episode. Otherwise, it's a bizarre mix of conceptual sketches that don't
work, and heavily topical sketches that have no chance of working now,
united under a host who the show can't quite get a handle on. Hopefully it's
the last time that this season falls short. <i>(Penned 7/26/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">5/16/87: Garry Shandling / Los Lobos (S12E19)</b>
</p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6cMtZf0Y3mJdNfsxsHqplBNYZnpOSN4x4wqoFjSS9V55nHCbJl3awxoSkUqM_UGe7iRcXUvEZjGISRVHisY7EqVNfTLBr7UehE8f3G7hgBx2c6EpYCYOW7aUToaLqLPxNzsQcLj0ymd9PnSv5_-r9kRNQiajXHOucDGbtrzpaGW7gw07vNpC16TVZR4/s3840/Screenshot%20(1311).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6cMtZf0Y3mJdNfsxsHqplBNYZnpOSN4x4wqoFjSS9V55nHCbJl3awxoSkUqM_UGe7iRcXUvEZjGISRVHisY7EqVNfTLBr7UehE8f3G7hgBx2c6EpYCYOW7aUToaLqLPxNzsQcLj0ymd9PnSv5_-r9kRNQiajXHOucDGbtrzpaGW7gw07vNpC16TVZR4/s16000/Screenshot%20(1311).png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
Garry Shandling is a bit of an interesting figure to me. Whereas other
comics from around the same time period have pervaded pop culture long
enough for me to naturally recognize them as a modern-day twenty-something
(like Robin Williams, for instance), Garry has always been sort of distant,
someone I've known by name only. In the lead-up to his hosting stint though,
I decided to watch some of his work so that I could key a bit more into his
idiosyncrasies, especially with the knowledge that his episode is a fairly
interesting one that conforms to his unique voice as a comedian, to say the
least. It makes sense that it has such a meta slant to it; Garry was one of
the first comedians to really bring meta comedy back to the forefront with
his deconstructive sitcom, <i>It's Garry Shandling's Show</i>, and just as
he broke away from scenes to address the audience and pull apart the
narratives he was slotted so famously there, he takes great fun in
repeatedly disrupting SNL's flow. It's like a lighter version of the classic
Charles Grodin episode from almost a decade before, though certainly not as
bold; as an exercise in something different, though, there's still a lot of
delight to be had, even if it feels like an episode that should ultimately
be more fun than it is.
</p>
<p>
The greatest successes here, of course, are the moments where this episode
keys into Garry's distinctive persona. He's sort of like a better Billy
Crystal in his boundless exuberance, though he never has the smugness that
makes Billy so hard to stomach. Rather, he's effusively gleeful, even if
insincere; he plays directly into audience expectations, immediately
disarming them in a way that allows people to rally behind him, though he
also treats them kindly, rarely betraying their trust so much as observing
their willingness to indulge him. The big post-monologue sketch—which he
literally walks into after deciding his monologue's over ("I'm really
excited because it's important that my first sketch go well!")—is perhaps
the most sustained and delightful effort to bring his style to the show in a
deeply meta way, and it works stunningly well: instead of becoming a
legitimate part of the scene, he repeatedly plays to the audience, darting
his eyes in their direction and basking in their validation of his antics.
(My favorite moment of it all is Garry breaking the scene completely to call
out Jan's professionalism and get the audience to start a round of applause
for her as she looks on in horror—"God, is she great or what? It's just like
being in a department store!"—though a close second would have to be him
abandoning the scene entirely to do some more stand-up.) And whereas no
other sketches in the episode commit to the concept as strongly, I do love
the constant callbacks and moments of scene-breaking that frequently close
out all the material that follows; it brings about a feeling of spontaneity
that SNL, by this point, has increasingly come to deprioritize. It's also
nice for the show to have that format-breaking element to it because, as I
said before, this <i>feels</i> like it should be a more fun
episode than it actually is. As the night rages on, while there are a few
sketches that take big swings, a lot of the material tends to waste the
innate value that Garry's presence offers.
</p>
<p>
The most interesting sketch to dissect of the bunch, and one of the more
noble sketch efforts in recent memory, is the support group piece, which
sadly fell a bit flat for me. I'll give credit to its interesting structure,
with Garry's support group member harping on his issues with his abusive
mother so affectingly that the entire group rallies behind him for a proper
confrontation; there are also some great characterizations here, and Dana
runs away with the entire goddamned thing as an agoraphobic member of the
support group, constantly breaking the tension of the scene with detached
remarks about his limited comfort zone. (After a revelation of Garry's
incestuous tendencies, he simply states, "I love my apartment... I'm never
going out again.") Unfortunately, I felt that the darkness and the heaviness
of the themes made the sketch very difficult for me to humor at times, and
while there is strength to swirling all of these dark tales of parental
abuse in the build-up to the climax, it immediately squanders all of that
with several hackneyed and convoluted incest jokes. My friend Eddie reminded
me of "That Crazy Taboosters," a sketch from a few years before which had a
similarly incestuous twist, though it works far better there for me; that
piece has such a loopy atmosphere that there's very little to ground it from
the start, whereas this piece is far too realistic, asking for our
investment only to burn it off with some lame moment of shock. The great
strength of Garry is that he's able to weave enough comedy into his
performance that he helps curb some of the intensity, what with the way he
glides over everything by design, and I do like him pulling back at the end
and saying "This is the worst character I've ever played!" as both he and
Jan immediately break character, but that doesn't quite do enough to win me
back; nevertheless, I tentatively respect its sheer abrasiveness.
</p>
<p>
There's a similar darkness driving the restaurant sketch, with Dana and
Jan's couple getting into truly nasty arguments that are repeatedly
truncated by Garry's server appearing and causing them to play off a falsely
happy vibe, though it feels more balanced due to the game built into the
concept granting everything a sense of rhythm and escalation—with Dana and
Jan having to find increasingly more damning ways to reset their hostilities
and come across like a happy pair—and the fact that Garry's role allows him
to tap into his goofy charm to solid effect, humorously undercutting the
scene's severity every time he comes around to restore the calm. ("Hey hey
hey, no necking!") His only other appearance in the episode, though, is in
"Redneck Airline," where he's left the thankless role of being spit on
mercilessly by the tobacco-chewing passengers around him... and that's the
<i>one joke</i>, so you better enjoy it!
</p>
<p>
The remaining, hostless sketches that fill out the rest of the episode are a
mixed bag, as hostless sketches are wont to be. My favorite of that bunch is
"The Puppy," a mystery spoof where Dana's jewel thief, known under the alias
"The Puppy," possesses unapologetically doglike traits. It's an incredibly
simple sketch, but one whose greatest strength is the pitch-perfect casting:
Dana has insane, puppy dog energy as is and plays his part with aplomb, and
Phil is perfect in the straight role as the inspector who can't quite
uncrack Dana's secret identity in spite of the glaring clues. The debut of
Babette's "Teeny Cafe," a nightclub so exclusive that it only seats four
people ("Three if they're fat!"), is less successful, though a mildly
respectable effort. It's not a bad means of expanding upon the Babette
character by constructing a world where she can properly demonstrate her
bohemian status rather than simply sitting next to Dennis and feigning
climax for the umpteenth time, but as a character, she remains pretty
uninteresting, and the comedy of the sketch is a bit too obscure to get an
easy sense of. Last but not least (if not far from least), there's a curious
pretape featuring Tracey Ullman, caricaturing her as a Hollywood mom more
invested in her ego-fueled sense of success than the well-being of her
newborn daughter. It's somewhat interesting, especially since it's
celebrating the creation of her sketch show on an entirely
<i>different</i> sketch show, but it's too simplistic to be anything more
than a novelty.
</p>
<p>
It's nice how much of an edge Garry is able to add, and it's sad that he
never returned to SNL; having an off-kilter host who lends the show a more
distinct flavor than it usually has is, as always, a privilege. Kudos to the
show, too, for taking a game, comic host as an opportunity for some
experimentation, rather than simply using it as an excuse for an easy week.
It's just a shame that this episode isn't quite the success that it should
be. <i>(Penned 8/31/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">5/23/87: Dennis Hopper / Roy Orbison (S12E20)</b>
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
<p>
Although Season 12 hasn't been as good as I was hoping, I'd be lying if I
said it wasn't nice to see the show in a stable place again after the past
few seasons of unsustainable wobbling. Having spent the second half of last
year venturing through back-to-back-to-back seasons of the show just doing
its best to survive in the moment, I've almost forgotten what it's like to
watch SNL be actively <i>thriving</i>, endearing itself to its audience and
feeling determined to keep doing what it's trying to do—and for that,
they've earned the right to celebrate. This is an interesting finale, and it
reminds me of the Olivia Newton-John episode that finished off S7 a little
bit. After narrowly surviving the choppy waters of the season that preceded
it, enduring weeks of fairly modest hosts, and successfully revitalizing
itself, SNL can finally indulge again. This isn't prime time for either
Dennis Hopper or Roy Orbison, though they were both experiencing minor
career resurgences; more than that, these are two people who colored the
youths of everyone involved with the show, and while they may not be the
most flashy proponents of the zeitgeist, it's clearly a treat for the cast
and crew to commemorate their newfound success. For the first time in years,
we can go into the summer break with a sense of assurance—SNL's found a
solid bunch, and they're only gonna keep getting better.
</p>
<p>
With that being said, this finale is pretty much on-par with what I've come
to expect for finales: it's a night of low-flying sketch that generally
works on some level but never comes close to greatness. It's cozy and
undemanding, or arguably overfamiliar, even beyond the litany of recurring
characters who send the season off. Dennis also makes for a strange host,
just as he's a very strange man. He certainly commits to the antics, but he
possesses this indescribable energy that hovers on its own plane of
existence. There's not much here in terms of give and take, in the same way
that an adept host like Lithgow or Larroquette blurs the line between being
a special guest and participating in the ensemble as an equal; Dennis,
however humble in his monologue, commands attention, and the cast is more
than happy to support him. He just doesn't slide into the sketches super
smoothly, aside from the rare occasions where he's given chances to properly
unleash his insanity; it's hard to tell if that's the fault of a challenging
host, or the unchallenged vibe of the finale, though.
</p>
<p>
Dennis' best sketch performance—and the one time the episode goes to the
places it should be going with him—is undoubtedly in "What's That Smell?", a
truly bonkers fake game show hosted by his character from
<i>Blue Velvet</i>, Frank Booth, challenging his panel of contestants to
inhale his mystery fumes and guess their origins. It's a bit of a creaky
piece in places—we've certainly seen enough of Dana's Robin Leach, and Jan's
Tammy Faye Bakker feels like a basic rewrite of her last appearance—but
Dennis is all-consuming, and it plays to the piece's benefit big time. Even
if his dialogue is sand-bagged by network-friendly censorship ("I'll FREAK
ANYTHING THAT MOVES!"), he's truly psychopathic, so keyed-in that he might
as well not even be doing a comedy sketch at all, and the big crescendo at
the end, screaming into a gagged Tammy Faye's face in between aggressive
huffs, is one of the most insane minutes of SNL I've seen in a while.
Meanwhile, Dennis' other big character reprisal feels more like where the
night is playing at: cute, amiable, but ultimately not too great of a
success. It's fun to see him play his character from
<i>Easy Rider</i> again, and the cast's impressions of other characters in
the movie are amusing enough (Phil debuts his perfect Jack Nicholson here),
but there's not too much on the bone beyond playfully cheapening one of the
more seminal films of the era with Dennis gamely riding along.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the night's material works with Dennis to varying degrees, but
never as well as it could. The slice-of-life sketch with his and Jan's
blue-collar auto mechanics taking shots and Phil's smarmy, stranded
businessman offers a good opportunity for Dennis to showcase his dramatic
chops, but there's nothing too impressive about it as a whole beyond some
pretty on-the-nose social satire. "Problem Drinkers From Outer Space" also
falls short of its promise quite a bit; alcoholic aliens are a fine enough
concept, and Phil is tremendously funny (as always, his great talent is
making the most out of even the most lackluster material), but there's
nothing dynamic about it as a scene beyond Dennis and Phil's drunk aliens
giving a press conference and then leaving, which makes the sketch feel
bizarrely truncated. One of the most promising pieces of the night is the
job interview sketch, where a panel of job interviewers ask Dennis a series
of disturbing questions to ascertain if he's into cannibalism ("Do you like
kids?" "Yeah, sure." "Fat ones or lean ones?"), but for whatever reason, it
doesn't fully come together either. Perhaps part of it is that it feels like
Dennis should be on the other end, using some of his darkness to give the
leading questions a more pointed grimness, as he feels wasted as the piece's
straight man; maybe it's also that it never meaningfully escalates into
anything but a vaguely racist punchline that the audience seems to miss
entirely. Either way, it's a bit of a shame for a sketch that momentarily
felt like it could be a classic.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode further reinforces the unfussy, "finale" feel with a
healthy serving of lukewarm lasts for the season. Church Chat is back, of
course, reaffirming its standing power as one of this newfound era's hottest
new segments. It's... <i>fine</i>, as these tend to be? The attempt at
continuity with Victoria's character is nice, and further contributes to the
universe of the sketch in a way that I like, but I'm never a fan of these
iterations where Church Lady simply interviews the host as themselves rather
than trying to meaningfully inject them into her world. Instead, Dennis
simply tells real-life anecdotes, clearly just rattling stories off the top
of his head rather than adhering to a tight script, and laughs along with
all of Church Lady's catchphrases as if it was a legitimate talk show
interview rather than a sketch. (I did enjoy his superior dance with Church
Lady, which mostly equated to stiff air-humping.) Tommy Flanagan also makes
his final appearance of the season, and his last for quite a while, thrown
carelessly at Update to do the same thing he's always done. It all just
brings to mind that scathing TV Funhouse segment, "The Life of a
Catchphrase," documenting the rise and fall of the Liar as Church Chat
gradually usurps its place in people's hearts, leaving Tommy as nothing more
than a hacky-feeling remnant of the past. Ah well, Jon—it was good for a
bit. The return of the Sweeney Sisters is ultimately the most enjoyable of
those recurrers, singing a very cute medley of farewell songs to close out
the night, though it's largely business as usual. And lastly, while it's not
really recurring in the same sense, this episode does contain Andy
Breckman's final sketch as a regular writer on SNL, and I'll greatly miss
his regular contributions to the show. This final piece from him is nothing
too amazing, with Kevin's political analyst repeatedly derailing a current
events roundtable with precarious chair-leaning, but the simplistic,
borderline stupid nature of it amused me all the same in that classic,
Breckman way.
</p>
<p>
Do I wish that the season closed in a more bombastic way? Of course, as I
always do, but that's not something you should ever count on. More than
anything else, I'm just happy to see SNL in a good place again, showing
clear signs that it has everything it needs to foster its talent and
succeed. If I treat Season 12 less like the immediate start of the show's
next golden age, and more like the auspicious beginnings of one, then things
are looking pretty damn promising. <i>(Penned 10/12/23)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p></p>
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<p></p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;"><b>Cumulative Season Rankings:</b><br /></span><b>1.</b> Valerie Bertinelli / Robert Cray Band (A-)<br /><b>2. </b>Chevy Chase, Steve Martin, and Martin Short / Randy Newman (B+)<br /><b>3.</b> Bill Murray / Percy Sledge (B+)<br /><b>4.</b> William Shatner /
Lone Justice (B+)<br /><b>5.</b> Sigourney Weaver (B+)<br /><b>6.</b> John Larroquette / Timbuk 3 (B)<br /><b>7.</b> Garry Shandling /
Los Lobos (B)<br /><b>8.</b> Malcolm-Jamal Warner / Run-DMC (B)<br /><b>9.</b> Willie Nelson (B)<br /><b>10.</b> Robin Williams / Paul Simon
(B)<br /><b>11.</b> Joe Montana and Walter Payton / Debbie Harry
(B-)<br /><b>12.</b> John Lithgow / Anita Baker (B-)<br /><b>13.</b> Dennis Hopper / Roy Orbison (B-)<br /><b>14.</b> Rosanna
Arquette / Ric Ocasek (B-)<br /><b>15.</b> Steve Guttenberg / The
Pretenders (C+)<br /><b>16.</b> Charlton Heston / Wynton Marsalis
(C+)<br /><b>17.</b> Sam Kinison / Lou Reed (C)<br /><b>18.</b> Bronson Pinchot / Paul Young (C)<br /><b>19.</b> Mark Harmon /
Timbuk 3 (C)<br /><b>20.</b> Paul Shaffer / Bruce Hornsby & The
Rage (C-)
</p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE SKETCHES:<br />10.</b> "Portrait Artist" (S12E18 / Mark
Harmon)<br /><b>9.</b> "Sincere Guy Stu" (S12E09 /Joe Montana and
Walter Payton) <br /><b>8.</b> "Collecting Evidence" (S12E16 /
John Larroquette)<br /><b>7. </b>"Truck Stop Cafe" (S12E12 / Willie
Nelson)<br /><b>6.</b> "On Broadway" (S12E13 / Valerie Bertinelli)<br /><b>5. </b>"Donahue" (S12E14 / Bill Murray)<br /><b>4.</b> "A Holiday Wish"
(S12E06 / Chevy Chase, Steve Martin, and Martin Short)<br /><b>3. </b>"Reagan: Mastermind" (S12E06 / Chevy Chase, Steve Martin, and Martin
Short)<br /><b>2. </b>"Old Hollywood" (S12E02 / Malcolm-Jamal Warner)<br /><b>1.</b> "Quiz Masters" (S12E01 / Sigourney Weaver)
</p>
<p>
<b>Other great sketches:</b> "The Amazing Alexander" and "Mr.
Subliminal (S12E01 / Sigourney Weaver); "Donahue" (S12E02 / Malcolm-Jamal
Warner); "The People's Court" (S12E03 / Rosanna Arquette); "Jungle Room"
(S12E04 / Sam Kinison); "The New York Word Exchange" (S12E05 / Robin
Williams); monologue and "Couch Cushions" (S12E06 / Chevy Chase, Steve
Martin, and Martin Short); "Casting Director" (S12E07 / Steve Guttenberg);
"Look At That!" (S12E08 / William Shatner); "Mace" and "Church Chat" (S12E09
/ Joe Montana and Walter Payton); "Amerida" (S12E11 / Bronson Pinchot);
"Police Wire" and "The Boyfriend Song" (S12E12 / Willie Nelson); "Hard
News Cafe" and "Discover," (S12E13 / Valerie Bertinelli); "One Night Stand"
(S12E14 / Bill Murray); "Master Thespian" and "Cross Country" (S12E15 / John
Lithgow); "Mother-in-Law" (S12E16 / John Larroquette); "Returning a Sweater"
(S12E19 / Garry Shandling); "What's That Smell?" (S12E20 / Dennis Hopper)
</p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE MUSICAL PERFORMANCES:</b><br /><b>10.</b> Paul Simon
(S12E05 / Robin Williams)<br /><b>9.</b> Run-DMC (S12E02 /
Malcolm-Jamal Warner<br /><b>8.</b> Willie Nelson (S12E12 / Willie
Nelson)<br /><b>7.</b> The Pretenders (S12E7 / Steve Guttenberg)<br /><b>6.</b> Robert Cray Band (S12E13 / Valerie Bertinelli)<br /><b>5.</b> Los Lobos (S12E19 / Garry Shandling)<br /><b>4.</b> Roy Orbison
(S12E20 / Dennis Hopper)<br /><b>3.</b> Anita Baker (S12E16 / John
Lithgow)<br /><b>2.</b> Wynton Marsalis (S12E15 / Charlton Heston)<br /><b>1.</b> Eddie Van Halen & The SNL Band playing "Stompin' 8H" (S12E13 /
Valerie Bertinelli)
</p>
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<p><b>WEEKEND UPDATE:</b> I originally conceived of this little addition to my SNL reviews because, at the time that I thought it would be worthwhile, the "Weekend Update" slot was under perpetual instability; now that we're settling into six straight years of Dennis Miller, the value of this section feels far ,more dubious. That's also because, as you may recall from my last season's worth of coverage, I do not like Dennis Miller, and through my deep well of swipes at his entire state of being, I attracted a <i>lot</i> of ire from people who are clearly intoxicated on the hazy memories of their relative youth. It's a bit of irony, really; the only people who would even read these things with a deeper connection to the show absolutely hating the shit out of me <i>trying</i> to connect with them. I'm sure it's another mark against Gen-Z to them or something. But I'm not here to complain about that, really; I guess I just want to clarify that I do understand the significance of Dennis to SNL. I talked about it a bit in my review of the premiere: after years of it being an obligatory feature of SNL, <i>if even that</i>, Dennis made Update cool again. He lended it a unique comic personality; more than simply interpreting whatever cruddy jokes Herb Sargent scribbled out for him to recite, Dennis never let his own feelings towards what he had to read off go unrecognized. He was edgy and smart; he owned countless thesauruses. He didn't care what the audience thought, and that made them love him in a sort of gaslit, abusive relationship sort of way. All of that is crystal-clear to me and I respect it as an important stepping stone in the history of SNL, and the comedy news format in general; we wouldn't have many of the things I love without Dennis making that initial splash.</p><p>With that being said, to say that the vast majority of the material he performs doesn't hold up would be an understatement. I feel like the best comedy should be evergreen to some extent. While SNL is an interesting show to examine historically in how it responds to weekly events and mirrors or contends the views of the public, funny is funny. Even if Reagan has been dead for almost two decades now and I have no memories of him as a person, Phil's mastermind impression of him is timelessly hilarious. Dennis, comparatively, is too myopic to connect to unless you lived through what he waxes on about, or otherwise know every single thing about US history circa 1986-87. I consider that to be something of a failure; while it clearly worked week after week, it has become the most impossible portion of every episode to watch. However, I'm open to having my hypothesis proven wrong: if you're a Dennis Miller fan under the age of 36, and you're not an insane rightist nut, please message me!</p><p>I would say that Update is at least an improvement on last season, indebted to having a better cast to fill out the segment. While we still haven't quite hit the point where Dennis' Update becomes ground zero for everyone's weirdest character creations, it's become an especially solid place for the persona comics of the cast to shine. Kevin's made decent use of the format with his "Thoughtful Insight" segment, and A. Whitney Brown has continued to deliver pointed commentaries that speak to the times with a greater conciseness and intelligence than the guy who's supposed to be doing that at Update. Perhaps the person who's used the news desk most effectively, though, is Victoria; she's undeniably the weakest performer in the cast, and frequently not the most well-used, but while her correspondent pieces aren't my favorite for the most part, there's no denying that she's one of the first cast members in the show's history to endear herself to SNL audiences by simply being herself, limited range be damned. Hell, I'm writing all of this the night before Pete Davidson<span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">—one of the latest cast members to score big (in multiple ways) by simply being himself</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">—</span>will host SNL's 49th season premiere. It's a viable path to victory! I'll probably tire more of her appearances overtime, but with regards to this season, I'd consider them a success.</p>
<p><b>SEASON AVERAGE: B-.</b></p><p><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">Follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>, or Bluesky <a href="https://bsky.app/profile/mattalamode.bsky.social">@mattalamode.bsky.social</a>!</i></p><p><b>SPECIAL THANKS TO MY AMAZING (AND VERY PATIENT) PATRONS: </b>Andrew Dick, William Ham, PC, John Wickham, Jeffrey U, Richard A, Ronald S, Blood Meridian, and Ian Fermaglich!</p><p>If you'd like to support my work alongside these distinctly wonderful people, <a href="https://www.patreon.com/mattalamode"><b>follow me on Patreon</b></a>! For only $3 a month, you can read my reviews as they're written as well as occasional, Patreon-exclusive coverage of other sketch shows and SNL-adjacent projects, including Lorne Michaels' ill-fated 1984 SNL revival, <i>The New Show</i>! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhij9qhmL9Cr5jkPz0Y73DPhJK5pYN59yOHCegSvsBX7Lw26Ae4TB_XUEXKr_g75GSSQF-JVXIkIMU_LL_XVWyCQXwpI5nCRofovJHNE64tZ0gx3MpRS8sI1L8YwMK9eyzpviYbeWD8i8Z61H7tk4cDn5-dT5ZcLAYl8fhSB9P7M-fdwkunmprEIumi/s3840/Screenshot%20(212).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhij9qhmL9Cr5jkPz0Y73DPhJK5pYN59yOHCegSvsBX7Lw26Ae4TB_XUEXKr_g75GSSQF-JVXIkIMU_LL_XVWyCQXwpI5nCRofovJHNE64tZ0gx3MpRS8sI1L8YwMK9eyzpviYbeWD8i8Z61H7tk4cDn5-dT5ZcLAYl8fhSB9P7M-fdwkunmprEIumi/s16000/Screenshot%20(212).png" width="518" /></a></div><p></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;"><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 1</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 2</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-reviewed-and-ranked.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 3</a><br style="font-style: normal;" /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/09/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 4</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/12/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 5</a></span><br style="font-style: normal;" /><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 6</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/03/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 7</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 8</a><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 9</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 10</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 11</a><br /><b>Season 12</b></span></i></p>
</div>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-78624432830178563722023-01-01T13:31:00.004-06:002023-10-15T01:03:18.957-05:00Saturday Night Live, Ranked and Reviewed: Season 11<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Ahh, now our little play must end!"</span></i></b></span>
</div>
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<p>
The second decade of SNL begins, and by god does it begin with a doozy! Of all
of the infamous years of SNL, Season 11 is one of the more intimidating ones
to me. While it has the same hypothetical freshness as <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 6</a>, attempting to
introduce skeptical audiences to the next iteration of the show, that season
at least offers the potential exhilaration of an entire staff flying by the
seat of their pants, week by week. Season 11, on the other hand, marks the
grand return of Lorne Michaels to his show, which quashes that sense that
we're gonna be learning as we go along. Lorne, by and large, is too stubborn a
producer for there to be much of a sense of recalibration or finetuning; that,
by next season premiere, he'd posit all of these episodes were "all a dream, a
horrible, horrible dream" doesn't give me too much hope that this season will
have any interesting arc, either, beyond seeing who swims and who sinks.
(Knowing who stays on after this season, though... I could guess.)
Realistically, I think this season will mostly amount to an annoying hurdle
before I'm able to get into what will likely be the best era of the entire
show's run.
</p>
<p>
Among the new cast members who have been brought on to define the next era of
the show are the show's first openly-gay cast member, Terry Sweeney; the first
black female repertory player, Danitra Vance; two up-and-coming stand-ups by
the names of Damon Wayans and Dennis Miller; a very young Anthony Michael
Hall, Robert Downey Jr., and Joan Cusack culled from the Brat Pack; Academy
Award-nominated actor and one-time <i>New Show</i> host Randy Quaid; and
lastly, Jon Lovitz and Nora Dunn, two semi-obscure hires who quickly ascended
the heap with their handy sketch comedy backgrounds. Dennis, regrettably,
helmed Weekend Update.
</p>
<p>
The writers' room is also fully-stocked with a mix of key talent from the
first five years (Franken, Davis, Downey, Novello) and startling new voices
towards the beginning of their careers (Mark McKinney and Bruce McCulloch of
eventual <i>Kids in the Hall</i> fame, Robert Smigel, John
Swartzwelder), including some writers who previously worked on<i> The New Show</i> (Jack Handey, George Meyer)—like the cast, a clearly talented bunch,
though one which would struggle to see their skills recognized on the
stage.
</p>
<p>
Will the season be able to triumph its negative reputation? Or will it be as
bad as they say? As your intrepid tour guide through such a strange chapter in
the show's history, here's my (pseudo-)professional opinion!
</p>
<p>
For my reviews of the previous season, Season 10,
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">CLICK HERE</a>!<span></span>
</p>
<a name='more'></a>
<p></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/09/85: Madonna / Simple Minds (S11E01)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
In a lot of ways, having Madonna host the premiere of this new era of SNL is a
pretty solid pull. What more extravagant way to accompany the return of Lorne
Michaels and a lofty facelift to the entire cast and studio than bringing in
the biggest pop star in the universe? It's like a huge morale boost for the
fledgling cast: "We made it! We're doing comedy with Madonna!" But perhaps it
only takes a moment with that sentence to realize that it's not necessarily...
the greatest idea of all time.
</p>
<p>
Not that I can blame Madonna exclusively for the very limp foot this season
puts forward—she's not great, but no one person can torpedo this operation
(however much someone whose name rhymes with Schmal Schmanken tries... more on
that later). This season premiere is greatly concerning because there's so
little to it that confirms that the right decisions about the show's direction
have been made creatively. While there are plenty of interesting names who've
cut their teeth on the underground comedy circuit, the only cast members that
feel like they have the sort of coherence that the original era benefitted
from are the ones who were pulled from the Brat Pack, all of whom are vastly
inexperienced in the world of sketch comedy or even comedy in general. If SNL
has often thrived on a need to capture attention, it's surreal to see such a
strong reset that has so little of a sense of urgency to prove itself.
Everything just feels... self-approving.
</p>
<p>
If there was a lesson that Lorne should've taken away from his previous,
aborted project from just a year before, though—<i>The New Show</i>,
ironically his attempt to capture his original vision for SNL—it's that the
quality of a show is determined by far more than its star power and its own
self-confidence. Comedy is nothing without its audience; it's a democratic
medium, and while there will always be margin for error, at a baseline it
awards the funny and devastates the unfunny. That every episode of Season 11
would be thoroughly revised in reruns with a healthy serving of piped-in fake
audience laughter says everything, really: no amount of trickery can make
unabashedly weak comedy seem stronger. This premiere—so intoxicated by its own
fumes—absolutely blows. Let's get into that.
</p>
<p>
One of the biggest issues with this premiere, I think, is that it feels
enveloped by a needlessly provocative atmosphere. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy
SNL embracing the grittiness that it spawned out of, and there are moments of
this episode which really punctuate that in fleetingly exciting ways, but by
and large, the grit that feels most defining in the writing is all bark, no
bite. I recall that Michael O'Donoghue famously attracted ire for his
potential involvement in some of the episode's nastiest material, only for him
to rebuke it in a characteristically misanthropic way (<a href="http://dennisperrin.blogspot.com/2011/05/blow-me-down.html">to put it lightly</a>) and place the blame more squarely on Al Franken, Tom Davis, and Jim Downey
for almost all of the night's material, which fully tracks. There's no denying
that the three are talented writers, but they're also insanely complicated,
with Franken especially being the king of edgy, toothless provocation. And
either way, bad taste and knee-jerk reactions are a poor substitute for
earning legitimate laughter, as "National Enquirer Theater," our first big
sketch of the season, immediately proves. It's potentially one of the slimiest
things I've ever seen on the show, an ostensive satire on sensationalistic
rags that doesn't attempt to rise above the sleaziness of what it's trying to
disparage; instead, we get a long-winded dramatization where Madonna's Marilyn
Monroe is suffocated to death by Randy's JFK, among other complicit figures.
That's pretty much the entire joke, because what's better than seeing a
murdered president that's been dead for 20 years suffocate an actress that's
been dead and exploited by the media throughout her entire existence and
non-existence in your hip comedy show? Oh, the audience isn't laughing hardly
at all? We'll just fix that in post.
</p>
<p>
That sketch feels like the centerpiece of the night, and certainly the easiest
sketch to cull from the herd and use as damning evidence of the general
weakness, but things don't really improve; by virtue of being the very first
sketch, it sets the tone. Following it up with the equally-harrowing
"Pinklisting" sketch doesn't do much for the episode either. I don't think the
premise is bad necessarily, and perhaps it's even a bit meaningful, taking on
the hysteria surrounding AIDS and the accompanying homophobia through the lens
of a new wave of blacklisting in Hollywood, forcing gay actors into the
closet; that we have Terry Sweeney in the cast, too, the first openly-gay cast
member in the show's history mining comedy from his own experiences, increases
the potency. The issue is that it feels like those layers of personal
connection filtered through a shoddy Al Franken framework, one unafraid to aim
for cheap laughs that wield the same prejudices the sketch is supposed to be
deconstructing. Terry shines through it all, a testament to how captivating of
a performer he is, though one hopes the show will find a way to utilize his
magnetism for something far stronger.
</p>
<p>
On that note, I do think it's worth acknowledging that there <i>are</i> some
silver linings to this episode, and they present the things which I look
forward to from this season the most. Even though the cast feels disconnected
and lacking in clear chemistry, I'm excited about a fair number of them. Jon
Lovitz probably emerges as the most dynamic performer, which is no great
surprise considering his future with the show; he's able to wring laughs out
of what he's offered even in his infancy, perhaps most memorably in the
"Critic" pretape, casting him as a stuffy, aloof critic who's willing to put
everything on the line to maintain his integrity in a world gone mad. Randy
Quaid is also decent, the closest the season has to a utility player, allowing
him to move through different sketches and different sorts of roles with
relative ease, even if he hasn't landed any truly solid material yet. (All
three of the people I just doled out praise for—Terry, Jon, and Randy—take
charge of the Royal Family/Reagans sketch, and despite their clear abilities
and earned laughs, it's a reminder that charisma alone can't get a rocky piece
off the ground.) Lastly, I thought that both Danitra Vance and Damon Wayans
demonstrated what they can bring to the show quite well in their two short
segments, debuting teen mother Cabrini Green Jackson and doing a riff on what
would eventually become <i>In Living Color's</i> "Homeboy Shopping Network"
respectively. SNL always benefits from having black performers pierce through
its overbearing whiteness, and both Danitra and Damon bear fully-formed
instincts that the show would benefit from making the room for. While I know
both don't really get what they want (and Damon, rightfully fed up, would
willingly let himself get fired), I'm looking forward to the occasional
chances the show gives them use their voices.
</p>
<p>
Oh, and I've heard some people like Dennis Miller, too, considering him one of
the few beacons of consistency in this season. I'm happy for them, and I'm
concerned for myself.
</p>
<p>
As far as the rest of the night's sketches go, there's only really one win:
the brief riff on a popular Michelob beer ad that sentences all of the
commercial's yuppie pleasure-seekers to hell for their life of "false values,
empty ambition, and raw greed." The next best thing might be the farcical,
Spanish-language variety show sketch, "El Spectaculare De Marika," which also
grants Madonna her only decent role of the night as the program's diva host;
the jokes and wild antics graze perpetually against hackiness, but in a night
that trudges along so slowly, it offers a necessary boost of pure energy with
some vibrant, supporting performances from the cast. Whatever else comprises
this episode is marred by issues even at their most benign, perhaps none more
confounding than the debut of the season's recurring
<i>Twilight Zone</i> spoof, "The Limits of the Imagination." It feels like a
perfect representation of the bizarre stumbling blocks of this season: you can
see the humor and the absurdity of the riff they're playing with, but it feels
overwritten and too glossy for its own good, and the performers aren't
operating at the level they have to be at for it to feel as frenetic as it
needs to be. The audience, in turn, has no idea how exactly to respond to it
for the umpteenth time.
</p>
<p>
I've said a lot about this episode, and yet I feel like I haven't said nearly
enough; trying to dissect an episode as confused as this one is like trying to
reassemble a busted piñata. Even the existence of a handful of bright spots
offer little promise—it feels more like they set a precedent for the degree
that this season will repeatedly squander them. I would greatly love for
Season 11 to prove me wrong in my reservations towards it, but if the season
premiere is to be taken as an introduction to a concept, it's something to be
feared rather than something worthy of all that much optimism.
<i>(Penned 10/06/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: D+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/16/85: Chevy Chase / Sheila E. (S11E02)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Well, after eviscerating the last episode, I wasn't expecting to enjoy this
next one a decent bit more... so perhaps it's a decent time to walk things
back a little bit. I'll admit that my hopes of this episode weren't the
highest, and it's not an episode with a particularly good reputation, either.
It's an episode famous for bad vibes, as Chevy Chase episodes are wont to
carry, and it also features one of the most harrowing stories of Chevy's vile,
antagonistic backstage nature—he famously pitched a sketch to Terry where he
played an AIDS patient who gets weighed every week, before telling Terry to
lick his balls. Sufficed to say, this had to have been another <i>particularly</i>
demoralizing week, and I have no idea what Lorne's insistence is on bringing
Chevy to the show as a legacy host, let alone as someone to grant validity to
new casts like some sort of elder statesmen. Upon watching the episode,
though, I was surprised that there are a lot of ways that it improved upon
last week, apropos of those negative vibes; even if the final outcome is still
lacking, I'm detecting far more promise that this season could churn out some
decent material in spite of everything it has to work against.
</p>
<p>
First, though, I of course have to talk about Chevy's performance on the
episode proper, which... is not great. I'll give Chevy that he feels a lot
more himself than he did in S5, mainly because he isn't sweating bullets in
the midst of a monstrous cocaine high, but he's not a particularly strong or
versatile host here, either. The best you could say about him is that he
doesn't derail anything, though every time he's tasked with regurgitating a
part of his beloved act from a decade before, it just feels a bit sad. The
Chevy shtick gets less and less charming the older Chevy gets, and I think
we've finally hit the impasse where it stops working as intended—<a href="http://dennisperrin.blogspot.com/2015/02/a-censored-snl-moment.html">the "garden slug" years, as O'Donoghue would put it</a>. Whereas the sketch where Chevy's Gerald Ford meets with Randy's Reagan to
discuss an upcoming summit with Gorbachev should be a very silly "passing of
the torch" sketch, for instance, all it does is end up exposing the increasing
hollowness of Chevy's bag of tricks. He fumbles, he stumbles, he knocks some
pictures over... it's stuff we've all seen countless times before, and it
certainly doesn't provide enough of a spark to counteract the very sluggish
writing he's supposed to uplift. The monologue and cold open similarly bank on
Chevy as Chevy being enough of a joy when it simply isn't; it's actually sort
of shocking how little he can key into the audience in the former, which makes
things him come across as even more ill at ease.
</p>
<p>
Fortunately, the less intent the episode is to serve Chevy, the more it works.
He still feels poorly-integrated, but then, that's a broad issue with the
season in general; it's strange to consider how much better sketches would
feel with a cast that feels more coherent. Enough back-handed comments,
though. The best part about this episode is how much it feels like this
season's most capable performers are already establishing their places, and
how much the new, valuable voices in the writer's room are able to fight their
way into the proceedings.
</p>
<p>
It's funny how Nora Dunn and Jon Lovitz have already demonstrated their worth
as commodities, with both debuting two of their biggest characters here. "The
Pat Stevens Show" makes an especially solid first impression given how much it
felt like Nora didn't factor into the premiere; here, she's a force of nature
as the show's host, a vapid and blithely-condescending former model who fails
to align with the guest she's supposed to be interviewing. I'd be remiss not
to mention, too, that it's a particularly great showcase for Danitra, who
(like Nora) brings one of her own pre-established characters into the
mix—Harriett DeLafayette, a feminist stripper who sets staunch personal
boundaries surrounding key parts of her occupation. ("I go onstage, and I
stand there, and I don't take off <i>nothin'</i>.") Meanwhile, Jon strikes a
similarly impressive hit with the "Pathological Liars Anonymous" sketch,
introducing his compulsive liar character, Tommy Flanagan. Whereas Jon still
hasn't quite established his trademark pomposity, he's already getting keyed
into some fun sliminess; Flanagan is like a shifty-eyed child seeing how far
he can take his fanciful tall tales. (Of course, it's not very far: "I tried
to kill myself... yeah, I DID kill myself! Sure, I was medically dead for a
week and a half!") Knowing how much Season 11 will rely on both of these
recurring segments, I'd say they made very promising debuts that offer plenty
of room for their formats to be enjoyably reconfigured.
</p>
<p>
The best of the episode, though, were its more delightfully conceptual pieces,
so writerly and refreshingly odd that they feel like they light up a pathway
for this season to take where things could end up being okay. Perhaps it's
most unsurprising that Jack Handey, a soon-to-be legendary SNL writer at the
very start of his career at the show, scores the episode's most lauded piece,
"The Life of Vlad the Impaler." Even in Handey's infancy, the heady
playfulness of it all makes his writing feel instantly identifiable. Randy's
performance as a very nonchalant Vlad the Impaler does a particularly
excellent job of capturing the tone of the material, circumventing the noise
complaints of Chevy's neighboring prince and getting into a moralistic debate
over what it means for someone to <i>deserve</i> to be impaled: "Well that's
very subjective, isn't it?... I think my way is infinitely fairer, just
impaling everyone I can get my hands on." For my money, though, "The Unlucky
Andersons" is just as good. Whereas Handey would continue to cement his place
on the show, this is one of the only sketches by future <i>Simpsons</i> writer
and recluse John Swartzwelder, and it feels like a window into the potential
of this season's killer, underserved writer's room. It's impossible for me not
to love this sketch's unabashed silliness, envisioning a sitcom about a family
perpetually cursed to endure the cruelest twists of fate that the universe can
deal out to them: the cat ate their umpteenth winning lottery ticket before
wandering into their freezer, the daughter has been impregnated by the devil,
and the son has been forcibly drafted in a personal letter from the president.
("I thought the army was all voluntary now!" "Well it is, but according to
this, the Pentagon decided they needed one more guy.") As I acknowledged
earlier, it's sort of strange to think about how much better this sketch could
work if it was carried out by a more well-rounded cast, but as it stands, this
sketch is the very definition of an underrated delight.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode is about as listless as the premiere, though I can't
begrudge it anywhere near as much considering that some solid material was
able to come to the surface. Still, the more lackluster content holds the
night back. Considering that Anthony and Chevy worked together in
<i>National Lampoon's Vacation</i>, it feels like he gets pushed to the
forefront of this episode, which will always be a pretty bad thing. His Civil
War brothers sketch opposite Robert, who mugs to hell and back like there's a
gun to his head, and the debut of "Craig Sundberg, Idiot Savant" (full joke in
title), are the absolute worst sketches that the night has to offer, and they
end the night on an unfortunate whimper. Beyond those, though, this episode
never truly bottoms out, and the fantastic, electrifying performances from
Sheila E. (that percussion! those aggressive horns!) help reignite the energy
whenever the night threatens to drop off. For an episode that I went into with
such low expectations, I was pleasantly surprised, and at times even
enthralled; here's hoping that Season 11 can take the good in stride.
<i>(Penned 10/08/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/16/85: Pee-Wee Herman / Queen Ida & The Bon Temps Zydeco Band
(S11E03)</b>
</p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4epWxv6KI5iRUCPaJdUG82HzKK0Ph1CM-gPM2nyVInY8GoGx2hc0n5t9CnWNzl2rCPGyGPJ4ELlccsaG8DuOSHKRr8B55H4SRJB-MXWX-re9jlr-Iziwp1Lg_L0ghP63yInFDpnsIe2TDplMwSVQzW-8GpYDy2gH5vRUzrMkWS51tr9jg72QCWJjf/s3840/Screenshot%20(22198).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4epWxv6KI5iRUCPaJdUG82HzKK0Ph1CM-gPM2nyVInY8GoGx2hc0n5t9CnWNzl2rCPGyGPJ4ELlccsaG8DuOSHKRr8B55H4SRJB-MXWX-re9jlr-Iziwp1Lg_L0ghP63yInFDpnsIe2TDplMwSVQzW-8GpYDy2gH5vRUzrMkWS51tr9jg72QCWJjf/s16000/Screenshot%20(22198).png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
Pee-Wee Herman! Who doesn't love Pee-Wee Herman?! Well... okay, full
disclosure, I didn't love Pee-Wee Herman before last week. But that's just
because I didn't really understand him! Having recently cultivated a newfound
love for the character after watching his then-recent movie, <i>Pee-Wee's Big Adventure</i>, I wound up just as excited as the audience in 1985 would've been for him to
have a go at hosting SNL. It's a pretty bold experiment for this season
considering that nothing has really solidified about the show's new identity,
but it's an exciting stunt nonetheless; the only other time an episode's been
hosted by someone in-character was Father Guido Sarducci in Season 9, which
was about half as committed to the concept as this episode would prove itself
to be. Either way, I had pretty much no idea where to place my expectations,
which was probably for the best—this is an enjoyable if occasionally slight
evening full of the sort of good spirits that this season was in dire need of.
</p>
<p>
Although Season 11 is no closer to meaningfully figuring itself out, a part of
me wonders if that lack of a strong identity serves to this episode's benefit.
It gloms onto Pee-Wee's presence so strongly, ensuring that the written
material keys into his idiosyncrasies, and while that does serve as a bit of a
security blanket at the expense of learning how to navigate a regular episode,
it also gives the show more boldness. It helps, too, that Paul Reubens is such
a natural at bringing Pee-Wee into a live comedy setting, no great surprise
given his history at The Groundlings—it's really nice to finally see a host
who doesn't struggle with the show's format. I can't really say enough about
just how magnetic of a performer Reubens is, and how brilliantly he inhibits
Pee-Wee in every way; his monologue, unsurprisingly, is a flawlessly tight
five minutes of gleeful silliness as he plays with the audience, lunges at the
studio camera, and whips the audience into a frenzy over some variations on
his legendary "Tequila" shoe-dance routine. The episode is wise to accommodate
for his presence rather than ever shoehorn him into miscellaneous scenes, and
while none of the pieces presented to him are incredibly strong, they forward
the carefree and silly vibe that this season benefits from digging into.
</p>
<p>
For the most part, he's inserted into very simple two-handers, and while most
of them aren't over-complex, they offer levity in their brevity. (Rhymes! I'm
being cute.) The locker room sketch opposite Randy is the simplest, but also
one of the more enjoyable moments in the episode, with Randy attempting to
subtly express his desire to pay for a hooker to Pee-Wee. It creates a little
game that's perfect for Pee-Wee's character, with him offering ridiculous,
prompt-fitting guesses to every new detail Randy adds as he tries to make his
point—"They do things in the dark." "Skeletons! AAAHH!" "No... they perform
certain acts and you have to give them money." "An evil mailman."—and ending
with Pee-Wee telling Randy that he should just get a hooker is such a blunt
subversion to his naivete that things lands about as perfectly as a little
piece like this should. His sketch with Joan is a bit less successful, casting
her as a teacher who Pee-Wee's student falls madly in love with. I like that
it has a strange meta-game to it of Reubens-as-Pee-Wee playing a character,
but Joan isn't a seasoned enough performer to really sell the gushing
melodrama of her part (even if it's, coincidentally, her best performance of
the season so far). Lastly and most enjoyably, Jon's Tommy Flanagan meets
Pee-Wee in a prison cell, where the two get stuck in a vicious cycle of
one-upping each other with fictitious stories of criminal activity while
corroborating each other's preposterous claims. It's a bit strange that we
haven't established Tommy's baseline interactions with normal people before
upping the ante with Pee-Wee, but I suppose it was to good of an opportunity
to pass up; it certainly feels like the most natural and enjoyable recurring
sketch to slot him into. (Also: hello prison guard Dan Vitale!)
</p>
<p>
There's also a few larger, ensemble pieces which are arguably more the night's
centerpiece, but I'm not sure how to feel about either, however much I
appreciate their efforts to insert Pee-Wee into something larger. "Pee-Wee's
Thanksgiving Special" should have worked better than it did, but it ultimately
felt like it reiterated my issues with the lack of chemistry within the show's
cast. I guess it's not necessary in a sketch built around an improbable
gathering of celebrities, but that lack of cohesion makes everything feel that
much amalgamated: oh, here's Joan mugging up a storm as Brooke Shields! And
Danitra as Cicely Tyson! And uh oh, <i>Terry as Diana Ross</i>?? I get the
concept of squeezing everyone into a very inane parody Thanksgiving special,
and Pee-Wee's strange touches offer some fun, but by and large it's too
bloated and disconnected. "Dinosaur Town," meanwhile, is an ambitious and
commendable effort on the show's part to vie for something tonally different
and more in-line with the sort of scenario Pee-Wee would get himself wrapped
up in, but it doesn't manage to blossom into anything all too special, either.
The premise should be fun, with Pee-Wee determined to save a dinosaur theme
park by finding a mouse in a Coca-Cola bottle, but the execution feels too
straightforward as if its quirky premise is enough to fuel things. I still
liked it, because I like the unique risk-taking of it, but specificity alone
can't be all a sketch has.
</p>
<p>
The remaining cracks of the episode are filled in by Season 11 doing its
darnedest, which is to say that things play out to mixed effect.
Unsurprisingly, like Tommy Flanagan, this season is quick to capitalize on
"The Pat Stevens Show" in its desperation to score material that will
confidently stick. Fortunately, it still works well, and the template seems
capable of withstanding overuse; whereas I liked Danitra's character more from
the first installment, Randy's weary depression expert yields far more
enjoyable interplay with Pat in the complete incompatibility of their
energies. ("What are some of the symptoms of depression?" "Well... persistent
feelings of sadness or anxiety, sleep disturbances, loss of appetite..." "Oh I
wish I could lose <i>my</i> appetite, I look at a piece of cake and
I gain three pounds!") Also returning, surprisingly: Father Guido Sarducci,
now in some strange new phase as "Pope Maurice," attempting to sell his new
laissez-faire religious sect to the viewer audience. Even though I'm not
immune to Novello's charms as a writer, I've never gotten the full appeal of
the character and this bit really drags; it feels like a reminder that this
season regularly maintains a foot too firmly in the past even if that feels
more momentarily comfortable. But then, I suppose when your visions of the
future include sketches like the one that ends the night, with Randy dully
boasting about the wonders of real estate as a new frontier for
money-saving... I can understand the concern.
</p>
<p>
Those moments feel like the most intrusive dead spots in this episode, and
even if Pee-Wee is quick to bring the episode back to a watchable place,
things ultimately veer far more towards being fun than strong. This week is a
nice balm in light of the past two episodes, though, and I hope that it can
help fuel some more momentum as this season lumbers its way into December. If
nothing else, I'm glad that everyone in this episode seemed to be having the
time of their lives—after the past two weeks in the trenches, I'm sure that
grooving along to Pee-Wee's show-closing "Sex Machine" number felt like a
moment of much-needed validation. <i>(Penned 10/15/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+. </b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/07/85: John Lithgow / Mr. Mister (S11E04)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It's nice to know that an episode of SNL is in good hands, and John Lithgow
proves his worth right from the very start. It's not that the cold open he
anchors is all that great—it's honestly strange enough, with him cast as his
<i>Buckaroo Banzai</i> scientist character in a scenery-chewing contest with
Robert, that I wonder if I'm missing anything contextually—but it proves that
Lithgow is as consummate as he is game, and the fact that he finds a way to
fit snuggly into this nonsensical cast is nothing short of miraculous. It's no
surprise that he'd end up becoming something of a perennial host for the era,
one of the very select few for whom Season 11 was an entry point rather than a
termination route. Even against the backdrop of a show that feels very
confused about what it is, he lends the show so much confidence that things
don't just turn out alright in the end: things are actually pretty damn good!
</p>
<p>
There's been a really solid upwards trajectory across the season so far, and
while I suspect that things will eventually bottom out given the season's
reputation, every episode has been better than the last, and closer to
resembling a functioning model for the show. Part of that is obviously the
host, since Lithgow is both the most flexible and dynamic one we've had so
far, but there's something to be said about the quality of the material and
performances across this episode, too; it feels like SNL is starting to better
understand, if not how to assemble a successful show every week, how to use
the cast members at its disposal. The writers from the original era can't use
them as they used the original cast, and the new writers have to learn to
filter their voice through everyone with similar difficulty, so it's
miraculous that everyone actually seems in their element here, with material
that plays to their inherent strengths.
</p>
<p>
The most glaring winner, of course, is the debut of Jon's Master Thespian, the
sort of breakthrough character that declares that Jon Lovitz is
<i>officially here</i>. He's arrogant, overinflated, childish, and all-around
completely ridiculous, owning the character like nobody's business with the
sort of panache that clearly establishes him as a performer in a class of his
own. He's only half of the equation, though; for however much the character
will be beat into the ground across the next season, I hesitate to think it'll
be easy to top his pitch-perfect chemistry with Lithgow's Baudelaire, a
character so popular that he'd be brought back in every one of Lithgow's
subsequent hosting gigs. Watching the two of them play the most
unsophisticated pranks on each other—taking turns deceiving each other by the
power of their "ACTING!"—is some of the goofiest, sharpest fun I've had with
this season so far.
</p>
<p>
He's not the only one to score some solid triumphs in the episode, though; for
as seemingly underrated as it is among a lot of my peers, I'd say that
Lithgow's sketch opposite of Joan Cusack is about as strong, casting him as a
father who's only able to tend to his daughter's emotional needs by stringing
together cliched, semi-appropriate idioms. ("It's like you haven't heard a
word I've said!" "Hahaha, in one ear, out the other, huh? Like talking to a
brick wall, spitting into the wind!") I don't think Joan is the best live
performer ever, but she clearly has some acting chops if her career after the
show is any indication; while her SNL tenure isn't very highly-regarded and
while she submits generally green performances, this is a very good piece for
her to use her then-limited skillset. Lithgow does all the heavy-lifting, and
his legitimately adorable performance is the selling point, but it still says
something that Joan is able to go toe-to-toe with him emotionally in the
scene; she sells her increasing frustration without ever losing sight of the
fact that Lithgow, her father, is someone she <i>does</i> love, and that
allows the sketch, by its final beat, to reach a very sweet place. There's
always room for slice-of-life material in the show, and while we're officially
at a point where it starts to become more and more uncommon, I'm glad gems
like this can still find their way in.
</p>
<p>
Last but certainly not least of the big highlights, Terry has a phenomenal
showcase sketch here as his Nancy Reagan, dreaming up an extravagant alternate
timeline where she's a Vegas headliner. Whereas those other two aforementioned
sketches succeeded in no small part due to Lithgow's contributions, this one
is all Terry, and it's a pretty strong case argument for how delightful he is
when he's not being wasted by the writers. If it isn't laugh-out-loud funny,
it's a tour de force physical performance, moving about the stage while
belting "That Old Black Magic" with the sort of gusto that defined his pre-SNL
drag revue work. (That's forgetting how wild it is to see a gay man getting
felt up by beefy dudes on national television <i>ever</i>, but
<i>especially</i> in 1985!) Not only is it a certain brand of fun-loving
silliness that feels so rare for this very labored season; it feels like the
sort of showcase sketch that immediately clarifies why Terry was hired, and
what the show's hopes for him were. It's a shame that things don't work out
for him as the season continues, seemingly, but at least for this moment,
everything coalesces.
</p>
<p>
In discussing this episode, I've admittedly only singled out three sketches,
but I think it speaks volumes about the state of the show that these three
sketches can warrant more extensive discussion than 70% of the season's usual
output. There's still quite a bit of fun to be had, though! Bits like
Randy and Robert's fake ad selling cultist Rolls Royces or the latest "Limits
of the Imagination" sketch are rather thin, but both of them are surprisingly
fun all the same; hell, along with the cold open, they've kinda helped me
appreciate Robert's presence at the show despite being infamously considered
one of the worst cast members of all time. (It would be a stretch to call him
great, but there's an endearing energy he lends to his line reads that,
especially when put into the right character, can really connect.) I also
detected a nice, writerly vibe throughout a lot of the episode's material,
most visibly in the ensemble sketch where Randy and a gang of disgruntled
sailors stage a mutiny that falters as soon as they realize they haven't
created a list of demands. I get the sense we're in for a fairly conceptual
season, and while that risks feeling painfully overwrought as it did in
previous episodes, almost everything works to strong effect here.
</p>
<p>
There's a handful of unremarkable moments to the episode—the painfully long
Franken/Davis sketch about Lithgow needing a giant beetle pulled out of his
ass, another relentless Dennis Miller Update, the debut of screamin' Sam
Kinison as this season's recurring guest comic—but occasional rough patches
with this season are a given, and this is a very solid episode all the same.
It's hard to say if Season 11 will be able to retain this level of quality as
it continues—next week's host leads me to believe that we've got at least one
more solid episode left to this streak—but this week is a comforting assurance
that good episodes <i>can</i> emerge from this season, and most pleasingly,
that the good can be in equal parts brought about the talent of a host as the
talent of the cast. That's worth celebrating! <i>(Penned 10/18/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/14/85: Tom Hanks / Sade (S11E05)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Of all the episodes in this season, this is probably the one that I was
looking forward to the most. The reason is obvious: Tom fuckin' Hanks, baby!
He's one of the most famous and beloved SNL hosts of all time, with classic
after classic under his belt and pitch-perfect chemistry with every cast he's
ever worked with. To think that he began his cherished history with the show
in one of the most bizarre seasons in the show's history is fascinating, but
also uniquely promising; he had to have done a good job here considering
everything that followed, right? And lo and behold... he does! If anything,
you could argue that he's almost <i>too good</i> for where the show is at
right now, though Tom certainly doesn't have that air to himself. He's having
an insane, contagious level of fun, navigating his way through good but not
frequently great material, and really, that's the best we could ever ask of
SNL right at this time.
</p>
<p>
It was a bit difficult for me to discern whether this episode was better than
Lithgow's from last week, though I feel pretty confident that this episode, if
not a downgrade, isn't quite at that one's level; at the very least, I
couldn't rhapsodize about any of this week's sketches as exhaustingly. The
only particularly weak sketch of the night is the cold open, an
<i>Entertainment Tonight</i> spoof that finds SNL inundated with the pop
culture minutiae of the day; it should be a cute enough ensemble sketch, but
this simply isn't the cast to pull that off, and the dragged-out nature of the
affair makes it feel like it was resurrected from the <i>New Show</i> trash
heap. What it <i>does</i> do, though, is immediately establish that Tom is a
host that the show has the utmost level of confidence in, joint-anchoring the
whole affair rather flawlessly alongside Nora and even wringing some laughs
out of the weak side-business he's been saddled with of making boooop noises
along to the ever-repeating theme song. If a host's secret weapon is innate
watchability in the most dire of circumstances, then they're basically a
godsend for the season, though I'll give the episode credit, too: everything
that follows is uniformly energetic, and if it's tailored to Tom, it feels far
more harmonious than like he's swooping in to save the show from itself.
</p>
<p>
It might be the easiest trick in the bag, but uniting Tommy Flanagan with Tom
as his equally-duplicitous brother is another immediate signifier of Tom's
gameness and charm, performing the whole liar routine without ever missing a
beat. It's also a nice sketch in general, despite the risk of the character's
overuse—alongside The Pat Stevens Show, it's appearing for the third time in
the span of only four episodes. Unlike Pat Stevens, though, the
constantly-evolving format of the sketch keeps the character feeling
fresh; bringing him home for the holidays is a perfect framework, and
balancing Tom and Jon's competitive lying against Nora as their mother, so
trusting in their intense fabrication, is a good way to even out the energy.
("This is my son Earl here, he's a special assistant to the President now, and
Tommy's a part-time pagan god!") Tom and Jon score a big hit later on in the
episode, too, joining Damon as three Jerry Seinfeld-esque stand-up comics who
make incessant, observational musings to one another backstage. It's a
ridiculous game of inside baseball (Seinfeld was still a bit of an unknown
commodity at this point to the general public), but it's absolutely infectious
watching these three performers dick around with the Seinfeld cadence and pat
each other's backs over their mundane remarks as if they're revelatory, and by
the end, even worthy of joke theft. I know this becomes a recurring bit, and I
thoroughly welcome that; conceptual pieces can have a difficult time achieving
successful recurring status compared to more character-driven material, but I
think there's far more fun expansion on the idea that can be done.
</p>
<p>
All of those sketches use Tom and their performers in a fairly broad way,
which is fair enough I suppose—we have a cast of very broad performers, and
Tom is just a delightful goofball—but that makes it all the more refreshing
that there are a handful of palette-cleansing sketches that play to different
tonalities and let Tom and other performers dial into more nuanced
performances. The fantasies sketch is perhaps the most miraculous, with Tom
telling his wife (Joan) about his bizarre fantasies about how his life would
continue if she suddenly died during their anniversary dinner. It shouldn't
come as a surprise that a piece that risks being that mean-spirited was
co-penned by a writer as dodgy as Al Franken, but somehow both Tom and Joan
make it work. (Edit: William Ham informed me that this was primarily written
by Carol Leifer, which might further explain that.) Tom sells all of the
concerning details with a perfect, delicate passivity—as if he's unsure why
the visions of getting together with a young, Swedish au pair are so
distressing in spite of his best intentions—while Joan submits the necessary
dramatic performance that gives all of Tom's words meaning and weight. The
slice-of-life sketch that Joan shares with Nora is also very nice and far more
grounded, with the two playing mothers exchanging their views of the holiday
season and exchanging horror stories about their children; moments like that,
as well as one final guest spot for Steven Wright (killer as always) and the
stellar performances from Sade, help the episode maintain a nice ebb and flow
even when its material isn't the most dazzling.
</p>
<p>
As a whole, this is a fun episode, and certainly a highlight for the season,
though regardless of its many good moments, the best part about it is just
what it sets in motion for Tom Hank's relationship with the show. It's funny
to think that just last season, his name was used in a brief nothing-burger of
a sketch ("Tom, Dick, and Horny") that poked fun at his vacuous, teen idol
status; now, less than a year later, he's a beacon for the show's next
frontier. I can't wait to see his ongoing contributions to SNL in the seasons
to come, but at least for now, we've got another feather in this season's
relatively-featherless cap. <i>(Penned 10/22/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/21/85: Teri Garr / The Cult, The Dream Academy (S11E06)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
For a number of reasons, I've had more time to sit with this episode than
most. It's an episode I've been ghoulishly fascinated with for a while given
its reputation; as I've alluded to every time I've had to write about Teri
Garr before, she's someone who's worked in 8H several times with so many
different performers, but never to any particularly great effect. Perhaps I
also suggested that this episode would be the lowest of the low, some sort of
climactic coup de grace to her relationship with the show, because its poor
stance among fans has strongly spoken to that. And the thing is... this is not
a good episode by any stretch. But at the same time, as I've thought it over
for the past week and rewatched it, it's had me pondering the question of what
it <i>really</i> means for an episode of SNL to be bad.
</p>
<p>
I have a working theory that there are, generally speaking, three bad types of
SNL episodes:
</p>
<p>
1. <b>The classic, cherished disaster.</b> A host like Milton Berle going
rogue with their ego, or Chevy Chase zogged out on cocaine, dragging the show
into uncharacteristic, horrid depths. These are the bad episodes you hear
legends of. <br />2. <b>The risk-averse slog.</b> This is an episode
that isn't necessarily caving in on itself, but it's shackled by a complete
lack of ambition. In a bad season of SNL, it's an episode that either rehashes
everything that has worked in the past, all to diminishing returns, or finds
itself fixated on the lowest common denominator. There's no level of
appreciation that can be fostered for it. These are the ones I hate the
most—and having watched a bit ahead, I'll have some prime examples of this in
S11 to point to.<br />3. <b>The noble failure.</b> This is an episode
that tries, but it simply doesn't succeed. Unlike a risk-averse slog, this one
has legitimate intent; perhaps there's a strained, labored feel to things, but
the cast and the writers are really pushing. Obviously, I want SNL to be good,
but if it isn't, this is the second-best thing and it makes for fascinating
material to dissect.
</p>
<p>
This episode falls in that third category for me—I find myself bizarrely
intoxicated by its roughness. It's only bad because the material isn't really
there, but everyone is still going for it as hard as they can, having fun, and
submitting maximum effort, and that resonates for me in a way that
similarly-labored episodes from past, turbulent SNL seasons failed to. Maybe
that sentiment of mine is also a byproduct of the far more harrowing things
I've sat through by this point: both Season 5 and <i>The New Show</i> are
probably the closest parallels to where Season 11 is currently at, but unlike
those two, there's something exciting about seeing a new cast tasked with
making something difficult work instead of a bunch of beloved performers, past
their peak, submitting the most embarrassing work of their careers. Does that
mean I get more legitimate enjoyment out of watching Anthony Michael Hall
search anxiously for cue cards than watching Buck Henry anchor Weekend
Tonight? I guess so, though... it's arguably a bit of a race to the bottom.
</p>
<p>
There's a high chance I'm just broken, because it feels sort of crazy, in
conversations I've had with my trusty SNL-watching friend about this episode,
how much I gleam from even the most purportedly labored of sketches. Take, for
instance, Terry's Hildy sketch. Clocking in at over six minutes, it's
an <i>insanely </i>long walk to its punchline, and it's certainly
not a sketch that'll win any awards, but something about it clicks for me a
bit more than most. Terry's performance gets it over as a maid who's
cheerfully overinvolved in the dysfunctional family that she's maintaining,
and the sketch ends with a moment of silly catharsis that—if not making the
journey worth it for most—cleverly fulfills an arc for the character and finds
Terry acting at the height of his ebullience. The "Roy Orbison Christmas
Special" has proven polarizing as well, which is fair; the sort of holiday
special sketches that emerge from early SNL can struggle to connect because
they're so period-specific that they risk becoming esoteric pastiche. This one
really works for me, though, for whatever reason. Randy does a credible Roy
Orbison, Terry and Robert's performance of "Santa's Little Surfer Girl"
alongside Teri actually sort of <i>rocks</i> (I've jammed to it more than I'd
like to admit), and Danitra-as-Leslie Uggam's dramatic reading of a letter
from a mental hospital patient—rotating the letter as she reads, before
everything devolves into complete nonsense ("Bow-wow says Blinky the space
dog!")—is a wonderful comedic moment. It's not a thoroughly funny sketch, but
there's such a vibrant energy to it that it succeeds for me as a piece of
carefree, ensemble fun.
</p>
<p>
Of course, the episode's most notorious sketch is an ensemble piece as well,
and one that even <i>I</i> can't fully defend: "Big Tree" is a bizarre,
full-cast disaster movie-spoofing epic dedicated to the infighting of a
wealthy family over the world's biggest Christmas tree, and it definitely does
<i>not</i> work as intended. And yet... I think it's bizarrely watchable.
We've seen so many horrible epics across the show's history by this point,
arguably as many misses as hits (if not more), but this one is far from the
worst. I find sloppiness more charming than deadness—think back to the epics
from the days of yore that hit their one bad joke endlessly, like "gay,
sexually-assaulting pirates" or "man in relationship with ten year-old"—and I
think all of the details support a bigger, more interesting picture, albeit
one which doesn't fully come across. Some aspects are very ill-conceited, like
the fresh-faced Robert being an architect and the even-freshed-faced Anthony
being, somehow, a washed up geologist (it's so bad it's funny), but I like
that goofiness in the attempt and most of the performances, and there's enough
silly beats in the sketch that work for me (the use of miniatures, some fun
bits of dialogue and characterizations) and grant an odd appeal, like a cute
puppy missing its hind legs.
</p>
<p>
Season 11 isn't quite the little engine that could which Season 6 was, because
the presence of Lorne and veteran writers feels like a lousy safeguard, but
sketches like "Big Tree" speak to something unique about where the show is at.
There's a legitimate effort to do the best they can. While the show often
isn't too great, I'm finding more appreciation for its frequent failures than
I thought I would, and whenever the show scores actual successes—like this
episode's 10-to-1 sketch, where Anthony disrupts his parents' game of Trivial
Pursuit by repeatedly rewriting history with his time machine—they feel all
the more gratifying. (Shout-out to that sketch for having the moment of the
night, by the way: "Who broke Babe Ruth's home run record?" "Oh gosh, I'm
gonna have to just throw in a wild one, let's see... was it me?" "Yes!")
I'll always take swings and misses over more of SNL doing the same boilerplate
shit that's made it drag at its worst—case in point, the return of Father
Guido in the monologue and Novello's prolonged Update correspondence are the
most exhausting parts of the night. And hey, even if Teri isn't used
effectively as a host for the final time, there's a handful of other fun
things about this episode, like the complete lack of recurring material and
some awesome performances from our two musical guests, Dream Academy and The
Cult! It's an undeniably flawed episode as a whole, but a fun mess; for that,
I bestow upon it one of my favorite episode grades. <i>(Penned 11/02/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/18/86: Harry Dean Stanton / The Replacements (S11E07)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Okay, so... that whole "three different kinds of bad" thing I was talking
about last episode? Here's an example of a show that kiiiinda straddles
it. (Always a great sign when a theory of mine is immediately disproven.) It's
perhaps most notorious for how fucking <i>smashed</i> Harry Dean Stanton is,
pre-gaming for the live show backstage with The Replacements and drifting
through the entire night with a drunken stupor that's somewhere between
dysfunctionally Kristofferson and charmingly Carradine (yet never fully
either). But even beyond his hosting performance, there's a very weird feel to
the material. It's undoubtedly effortful but, perhaps simply because of the
dank, unpleasant feeling of the episode, it doesn't teem with life so much as
it festers uncomfortably as if, at any moment, it could break out in hives. If
there's more originality here than in most of the season (there's only one
recurring bit), it feels like a sort that isn't fun-loving so much as
tumultuous, with my ability to admire the output being mired by the weirdly
glum atmosphere. Simply put, I pointedly did <i>not</i> like this episode.
</p>
<p>
I really wanted to find more of a fun vibe to this one, honestly. While I
think, for instance, that the aforementioned David Carradine hosted a pretty
bad episode of the show in Season 6, there was a weird sense of authenticity
he offered to his roles in his altered state that made some of its lousiest
material more fitfully intriguing. Here, though, even if Harry doesn't have
any derailing stumbles, he radiates an uncomfortable presence and it's obvious
that the cast is nervously coaxing him along. There are pockets in the show
where his stupor helps—he climbs up the fire escape and performs some blues
with the SNL band for his monologue, which is pretty sweet—but it's telling
that even when SNL straight-up gives him the role of playing a rowdy,
intrusive drunk in the bar sketch with Robert and Joan, he feels legitimately
off-putting in ways that make the potential comedy feel hard to laugh at as
intended. He's got too many screws loose, and on a very loosely-screwed SNL
episode, it threatens to turn every scene into a jumble of bizarre bits and
bobs.
</p>
<p>
Of course, sometimes you can also count on Season 11 to dramatically cave in
on itself without the need for external help, as is the case for this
episode's harrowing epic, "Cleveland Vice." It's a spoof on <i>Miami Vice</i>,
presumably, but it's set in Cleveland, which is definitely... a starting place
for an idea? It's SNL at the peak of its bullshit indulgence, so inundated
with its thin concept and this sense that specificity creates comedy that it
feels impossible to approach, and any degree of keying into its bullshit story
about detectives solving the mystery of stolen bowling balls yields no return
on your investment. Hell, the "narrative" of the sketch doesn't even conclude
in the way it was set up to conclude—it's obvious the balls are being stolen
by a "Lamaze league" disguising the balls as baby bumps in the first scene,
maybe the only interesting detail in the whole fucking thing—meaning that the
whole thing is eight minutes of red herrings stitched together, including at
one point a scene with Terry as Joan Rivers which doesn't plug into the rest
of the "story" <i>at all</i>.
</p>
<p>
That's the most drastic failure, but it's far from the only thing that doesn't
really work. I actually like the premise of the hospital sketch, with Jon
reminding Joan of all of the increasingly horrible things she said to him
while she was dilating, but it bizarrely fails to coalesce; its attempts at
realism almost make the sketch feel like the writer had baggage, and all that
bitter tone does is feed into the evening's off-putting vibes. I'm also sad to
say that Danitra's big spotlight piece, "That Black Girl," didn't work for me
as much as I wish it did. Maybe it's the complete lack of familiarity I have
with <i>That Girl</i> which makes it difficult for me to thread, but I
think I can get the exercise of transfixing the protagonist of the original
show's privilege onto a black woman. There's a nice satirical bite to it which
manifests itself well in the most understated of moments, too, like Jon's
landlord character immediately dismissing the past three years of her overdue
rent ("Who needs it?") and instead helping her try to find auditions. I just
think it sometimes borders on too understated and too reliant on the basic
humor of seeing this incredibly white show enacted by black performers. It
never plays that sense as on-the-nose as this kind of parody
<i>needs</i> to... so sadly, despite Danitra and Damon submitting solid
performances, it falls into that "Cleveland Vice" camp of being achingly
specific to no greater end.
</p>
<p>
This review has been overwhelmingly negative, but the weird thing about the
episode is that it <i>does</i> have some pretty fun material, too. The
post-monologue "Double R" sketch with Robert and Randy is a vast improvement
on the first, landing on the funnily dark joke that they're having a "stink
sale" to get rid of furniture tarnished by the scent of Randy's father's
corpse ("Now who woulda thought brass would hold an odor!"), and the fun
"Martin Luther King's Day Sale" sketch at the end of the episode—with Jon
espousing the greatness of his mattress deals by tastelessly appropriating
King's speeches—grants the episode an interesting symmetry. We also get the
Handy-penned "The Death of a Gunfighter" sketch, packed with some great,
writerly details, and an interesting pretaped curiosity, "The Big Ball of
Sports," documenting the obscure, now-banned sport of "Balkan Dirt Diving."
But how come none of those bright spots are able to make much of a difference?
I think it comes down to sequencing. It's not just how much the good is
nullified by the bad (I haven't even mentioned the agonizing Sam Kinison set,
or Weekend Update being characteristically exhausting); the bad is so
overwhelming that it even stinks up the good stuff like a rotting corpse,
kneecapping my appreciation for the better pieces that, in isolation, would
far much better. Here's hoping that we can write this episode's abysmal tone
off as a one-time, drunken stink sale, because if it represents what's in
store for the second half of this season... god help us all.
<i>(Penned 11/07/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: D+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/25/86: Dudley Moore / Al Green (S11E08)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Something I don't talk about a lot with sketch comedy, but which I find
endlessly fascinating, is running order. It's an art form, and it takes a
brilliant tactician to turn the sequencing of an hour's worth of material into
the best package possible, because in sketch, a show is greater than the sum
of its parts. The same set of pieces, arranged in different ways, can yield
wildly different quality versions of the same ostensive show—it's all about
highlighting the best material, cushioning the weakest, and generally giving
every sketch the best chance of success while maintaining an exciting sense of
momentum throughout. But just as the running order can giveth, it can taketh
away. The Dudley Moore episode is an interesting case study in just
<i>how</i> much one bad sketch placed in a bad location can sink an episode
before it's really allowed to start.
</p>
<p>
That sketch, of course, is the semi-infamous, Franken/Davis/Downey piece,
"Miss Pregnant Teenage America," an eleven minute-long exercise in general
distaste, casting Dudley's Roman Polanski as the host of a pageant concerning
who the best pregnant teenager in the country is. The fact that Dudley is
Polanski for no real reason is an ample demonstration of the low-hanging
tediousness of the premise; the FDD trio love needlessly detail-oriented
writing, and while that can work when all the stars align (think about
something like "The Pepsi Syndrome"), it's more prone to become a gratuitous
onslaught of pointless, generally offensive details. Why is there random
anti-Semitism in the competition? Why does Robert appear as the man who
impregnated three of the contestants while blaming women for their own lack of
contraception? Such asides seemingly just exist to extend the runtime and make
an unwelcoming sketch even more unwelcome. Some moments stand out at least,
largely in performance; Danitra is shoe-horned in here as Cabrini Green
Jackson very awkwardly, but she gets some good gonking to Eddie Murphy's
"Party All The Time," and both Joan and Nora score some laughs as a dim-witted
contestant and the retiring pageant queen, respectively. Even then, though,
things are couched into such a degrading and desperate concept that any ounce
of enjoyment feels pretty shameful.
</p>
<p>
It's an insane crater that threatens to swallow everything else, which is a
massive shame, because <i>literally everything else</i> in this episode works.
And I suppose that's a strange vibe befitting of our host, too. My only
exposure to Dudley Moore before this, aside from his sorta-forgettable S1
hosting gig alongside Peter Cook, is fucking <i>Best Defense</i>, and
that movie failed to prepare me for the fact that Dudley is actually a
<i>devastatingly</i> charming performer when he's able to shine. Case in
point: his two piano segments in this episode are effortlessly wonderful,
combining his virtuosic skills as a pianist with his ability to score a laugh
from so much as a glance at the audience. (Seeing SNL bandleader Leon
Pendarvis beaming back at Dudley as he inserts Tchaikovsky refrains into their
performance of Jame's Brown's "I Feel Good" is one of the most purely joyous
moments of this entire season.) Dudley is also a performer, though, whose
charisma is entirely dependent on the sort of choices he makes—something
reflected in his somewhat-tumultuous Hollywood career as a leading man, and in
"Miss Pregnant" dragging him through the gauntlet of questionability.
Fortunately, he's able to effuse his charm over the rest of the night's
proceedings, and the episode rises to meet him in a string of above-average,
if sometimes overfamiliar material.
</p>
<p>
This season's been having quite a problem with beating its recurring material
to the ground, and I assume things will only continue to worsen, but
miraculously, this episode's retreads feel particularly lively and implement
Dudley perfectly. I was hesitant to see Dudley cast as Master Thespian's new
rival, Sir Roger Tewksbury, considering that John Lithgow's Baudelaire is an
impossible performance to surpass, but Dudley's certainly no slouch; if his
chemistry with Jon isn't quite as good, he's quick on his feet and and he
radiates a delightful, Martin Short-esque energy as a small man who puts his
full body into everything he does. There's also another installment of "The
Pat Stevens Show," and while these segments have officially started to wear on
me in their repetition and limited scope, Dudley's portrayal of Scottish race
car driver Jackie Stewart is exceptionally absurd, relaying all of his tragic
accidents on the racetrack and in his bizarrely dangerous everyday life. The
strongest of this night's recurring offerings, though, is its iteration of
"The Limits of the Imagination," undoubtedly the best outing to date. Dudley's
cast rather appropriately as "a comic beaten by time and toil," flop-sweating
his way through a hacky stand-up set before making a deal with
Jon's Mephistopheles (character debut!) for the most captive audience he
could dream of having—and in a perfect turn, the audience is so captive that
it cannonballs his act with their relentless questioning all of his remarks.
("[My sister] is so thin she could walk through a harp!" "THEN WHY ARE YOU
MAKING FUN OF HER? MAYBE SHE'S SICK! YOU SHOULD TAKE HER TO THE HOSPITAL.
PERHAPS SHE HAS ANOREXIA. WE JUST READ ABOUT THAT IN <i>PEOPLE</i> MAGAZINE!")
There's only room in the episode for one original sketch, though it's one I
got a hearty amount of guilty enjoyment out of as Jon hosts an arduous game of
"Guess That Tune" with Joan and Dudley's bafflingly stupid contestants. It's
not high art, but everyone is perfect, with Joan notably submitting her
funniest performance on SNL to date in her anguished struggles to recognize
the likes of "Happy Birthday" and "Jingle Bells."
</p>
<p>
And yet, despite all of those strong things... "Miss Pregnant Teenage America"
is still there. SNL seemed to recognize the errors of its ways, too; in the
far-superior rerun broadcasts of the episode, that sketch is chopped out
entirely, filling in the gaps with some repeated pretapes, a longer dress
version of "The Pat Stevens Show" (which works better, and has some fun
breaking), and a decent slice-of-life sketch which was previously cut after
dress. It's a shame that revelation about the episode's quality didn't come
until after things were broadcast, though SNL is smart to re-canonize its
darkest hours and let its mistakes be forgotten; insofar as I'm one of the
rare observers of this season in its original form, though, the episode takes
quite the disappointing hit. Still a pleasant effort from the season—one of
its best, and Dudley is a superb host—but it's telling that even the best
episodes in Season 11 can be plagued by egregious flaws.
<i>(Penned 11/16/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/08/86: Ron Reagan / The Nelsons (S11E09)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Ron Reagan <i>and</i> The Nelsons?! It's like the big nepotism special! I kid,
kind of, because I can sort of get why SNL would want to recruit Ron. It's
something of a power move to have the son of the president host your comedy
show, especially when it's ailing, and the fact that Ron's politics notably
align with SNL's more liberal leanings means that their shots at the president
and his politics will have more of a built-in punch. I get all of that,
crystal clear. Even so... it's undeniably weird, right? For as much as this
season slips deeper and deeper into ill-advised hosts with no comedy
background (Jimmy Breslin, anybody?), Ron will forever be one of the big, more
inexplicable oddities. Fortunately, though, if Ron's no revelation as a
performer, he's game and enthusiastic, and I can't help but feel like that
contributes to this being one of the season's more enjoyable outings.
</p>
<p>
It probably helps that, realistically, Ron has very little to lose. It doesn't
even really matter if he embarrasses his dad, since that plays in SNL's favor
(though full disclosure: there's no super bold swipes tonight); he's just here
to have fun, and as soon as the cold open of this episode takes its turn and
he slides across the Oval Office floor like Tom Cruise in<i> Risky Business</i>, it's clear that he <i>totally</i> is. There's not a ton asked of him aside
from being an affable presence, but it's because he's here that this episode's
centerpiece, a <i>Back to the Future</i> riff casting him in the Marty McFly
role of rewriting his parents' history, works as well as it does. It's already
a pretty fun idea, but Ron does a lot to make it personal and play with his
own politics throughout; most humorously, alternate-reality Reagan is a
far-left Democrat that Ron has to radicalize for the sake of initiating his
parents' relationship and saving his own life. Those sorts of touches make it
work better than being either aimless pastiche or indecisive political
satire—two things this season has been generally burdened by—because more than
anything else, it's just <i>FUN</i>, filled with great performances (Terry as
Nancy is always a delight, and Jon hams it up as Doc Brown), and miraculously
finds good humor in its Franken-Davis diversions instead of careening
off-course and up its own ass.
</p>
<p>
Ron's only other role in the episode (and the only time he ever plays someone
other than himself) is in this week's "Limits of the Imagination" sketch,
though it's definitely a lesser installment, hinging upon the idea that Ron is
suddenly not recognized by his own family... until they see his ID.
Fortunately, the rest of the episode offers a very wide range of interesting
highlights. I haven't talked too much about Penn & Teller this season,
because honestly I'm not too taken by the sardonic comedy magicians, but they
fully win me over in their piece from this episode, performing several
"tricks" that are, in actuality, concealed by the fact that they're performing
their entire set upside down. It's such a simple idea, but having the studio
audience keyed in from the get-go in a way that the at-home audience isn't is
such a goddamn fun concept to play with, and the repeated back-and-forth
between Penn and the audience to prove that everything is happening in real
time—"ARE WE LIVE?!" "YEAH!"—is gleefully infectious. This episode also marks
the debut of A. Whitney Brown's "The Big Picture," his series of lauded
political commentary bits that mercifully wedge their way into Miller's
Weekend Update tenure. It took some time to warm up to me (maybe in part
because of Whitney making some
<a href="https://imgur.com/a/rZRSSqe">real shitty comments</a>, like, the
<i>day</i> before I first watched this episode), but it's hard to deny this is
a strong debut that hits it off with the audience; his comic persona,
pompously verbose as if a caricature of the Miller-esque "thinking man's
comedian," is already fully-formed, and he's able to leverage some of the most
biting satire that we've seen this season with fierce panache. It's certainly
a better debut at the Update desk than the Weekend Update Dancers, whose
interpretive dances to news stories across the rest of this season register as
desperate variety show bullshit more than anything else.
</p>
<p>
Perhaps the greatest surprise of all, though, was Danitra's solo character
piece, "Shakespeare in the Slums." By this point, it's frustratingly obvious
that Danitra can't really fit into the framework of the show despite being so
glaringly talented—a point made painfully obvious by her great Cabrini Green
Jackson character being needlessly crammed into last week's distressing "Miss
Pregnant Teen America" sketch—though I'm glad that we're still getting peeks
at her talent when SNL allots her the time to do her thing. This piece is one
of her best, portraying Flotilla Williams, a streetwise young actress who
reinterprets a sonnet from <i>Romeo & Juliet</i> into her own, less
intimidating vernacular. More than simply being an opportunity to trot out her
intellectual leanings (she was classically trained in Shakespeare in London),
it's brilliantly lived-in, taking what could be an obvious stereotype in the
wrong hands and imbuing it with a passionate sense of realism that borders on
poignant. It's like night and day to see Danitra here in her element,
flawlessly interpreting a complex role, instead of being forced to battle
against another hoary caricature from writers that treat her disposably; SNL
won't do a thing to prop her up, and it's a testament to her abilities that
she shines in spite of it.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode has traces of same-oldness to it, but the lack of any
big clunkers ensures that this episode maintains a good energy throughout. And
really, all it takes is to not fully bottom out to end up on the upper half of
the season! Snide comments aside, though, this is an enjoyable effort: by no
means perfect, but a very pleasant watch with good vibes and some neat
surprises. How much more could I ask of Season 11 right now? <i>(Penned 11/08/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+. </b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/15/86: Jerry Hall / Stevie Ray Vaughan & Double Trouble (S11E10)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It's kind of obvious why Jerry Hall is hosting the show, even though she
shouldn't. It would be mean to reduce her to her relationship with Mick
Jagger, and I'm not really intending to do that... but it's pretty clear that
SNL is, because at this point they'll do whatever it takes to get someone like
Mick into the studio. If that means having his model girlfriend with no acting
experience host, than so be it—it's not like the show's found other great
options right now. But just generally speaking... why do "it girls" host SNL?
Why does SNL think that they'll execute what the show needs them to? Just
because someone is known doesn't mean they should lead a high-pressure live
sketch comedy show, and that's a lesson that the show never seems to have
fully learned if the likes of Paris Hilton or Kim Kardashian should be counted
as anything. This episode is very much one of the earliest forms of those
abysmal weeks: Jerry is a hot lady, and that's all they worked with.
</p>
<p>
Really, this is about as bad as an episode can be while being fully stable.
There's not any confounding or upsetting variables, like a real disaster host
or disaster sketches, but that almost makes it worse: there's just
<i>nothing</i> to care about, and <i>nothing</i> you can excuse. Part of that
is the sheer glut of recurring sketches that fills up this episode, almost all
of which are at their worst or most labored. Maybe that also speaks to the
difference between a similarly recurring material-plagued host like Dudley
Moore, who can elevate things with a committed performance, and a host like
Jerry, who can neither inspire the writing nor meet it at its already-reduced
level. She's probably best in this week's "Limits of the Imagination"
sketch—for the third week in a row, by the way—casting her as
<i>Cat on a Hot Tin Roof's</i> Maggie The Cat, because playing sexy clearly
isn't a big challenge for her, but the sketch itself is far from the finest
outing. I like Terry getting to do sketches that center on his gayness and
grant him more authority to play with his identity, but aside from his
desperate attempts to drop hints to the very lustful Maggie ("Lady, I'm a
florist from San Francisco!"), there's not a lot of meat on the bone. The
master thespian sketch is even weaker, with the decision that Jerry could
serve as a foil to Jon at the same level as Lithgow or Dudley being
particularly baffling. I can appreciate the change in format, with Jerry
playing a love interest rather than a rival, but she's fully out of her
depth—her delivery of "I was ACTING!" needs to be seen to be believed—and the
queasier aspects of its set-up (Danitra has to play an African native, and
Damon famously refused to participate in the sketch, where he would've worn a
thong and held a spear without any lines) are too distracting.
</p>
<p>
It's no great surprise that Jerry can't play characters too well, however hard
she tries, so there's wisely an equal amount of material where she plays
herself... though that doesn't make it better, nor is she necessarily any more
competent. Again, though, I don't want to place all the blame on Jerry,
because she's not the only one sinking this episode. Everything is just
<i>bad</i>. This week's iteration of "The Pat Stevens Show?" Bad. The worst
this segment has ever been up to this point. I'm so burnt out on this
character, and she only succeeds when her guest is good, but when the guest is
Jerry Hall and she's botching the timing of all of her lines, everything
becomes actively exhausting to watch. And speaking of exhausting: how lucky we
are that we have an epic sketch where the joke is just that models are dumb!
More than anything else, it affirmed for me how great Terry is in even the
most dire of circumstances, with his role as Brooke Shields' badass,
gun-toting mother standing out as particularly delightful. Everything else,
though, is an exercise in beating a one-dimensional joke into the ground with
weak impressions of different models attempting to balance their vanity
against their subpar survival instincts in the Alaskan wilderness. Maybe it's
cute for a short piece, but not an eight-minute one. It's telling for the
night that one of the better pieces was the Tommy Flanagan cold open; the
character is starting to get a bit old, Jerry is Jerry, and Mick Jagger's big
cameo adds very little, but Jon's locked in as always and the writing plays to
his favor.
</p>
<p>
Usually in reviews, I can't hit every sketch in a given episode because
there's just too much to talk about, and a lot of pieces don't really deserve
to be mentioned in the grand scheme of things... but in this episode,
practically <i>nothing</i> deserves to be mentioned, so I might as well
go <i>all out</i>. There's a sketch about sunbathers on a yacht who are
dangerously close to Gaddafi's Line of Death, and it's so dull that another
SNL reviewer said that he was pretty much just staring at Jerry's legs the
entire time. We also have Sam Kinison to bask us in more of his misogynistic,
hacky misery, a perpetual and painful reminder that the cutting edge doesn't
stay cutting for long! The audience doesn't bite that much, which is
appreciably cathartic perhaps, though it could also be that they're so
exhausted from the episode they've been watching that even his desperate
screams can't phase them. Lastly, I'll at least give credit to one sketch in
this episode for bordering on decent: I liked Jack Handey's 10-to-1 about
Randy being unaware of the perpetual danger surrounding his exposed, sore toe.
The hour preceding it left me so weary that I couldn't laugh at it all that
much, but in retrospect, the visual of Robert maniacally slamming the floor
near Randy's foot with a hammer and the preposterous cartoon logic that keeps
tempting his fate are pretty fun; it's just the sort of fun that, as with a
lot of other "smart" sketches this season, would hit far harder with better
performers.
</p>
<p>
I think that it's easy to go into Season 11 with a sour attitude and to
immediately dismiss most of what it does, and I pride myself on being patient
with it, trying to understand its intentions or appreciate its ambitions...
but when you get an episode like this, what can I really say? The show isn't
proving its naysayers wrong—it's just letting everyone down.
<i>(Penned 11/23/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: D.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/22/86: Jay Leno / The Neville Brothers (S11E11)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It can be a bit of a challenge to separate the Jay Leno of the past from the
Jay Leno of the present. It's hard to harken back to a time when he was a
jovial, beloved club comedian with an alleged sharpness to his act, yet to be
blunted by years of talk show hosting and a feud with Conan O'Brien that
recontextualized him to a younger generation as a dickish, power-hungry
misanthrope who lives in a garage and asks us incessantly if we "know about
this" like a lesser Anthony Crispino. And yet, Season 11 has gotten to the
point where I was sort of desperate to see him host, because we're in
<i>dire</i> need of capable emcees who know how comedy works. It was the best
of circumstances for Leno to reach out to me, and he takes them—if this isn't
an amazing outing of the show, it's one that has a lot of the right stuff and
which is strengthened by his voice and presence.
</p>
<p>
Of course, that didn't stop me from feeling apprehensive, especially when he
strutted out onto the mainstage in a garish, sequined suit to do six and a
half minutes worth of stand-up... but really, Jay's not bad. Hell, I'll go so
far as to say that his stand-up is very tolerable and frequently worth a light
chuckle, though it perhaps doesn't feel as original as it was back in the day.
In both his stand-up and his sketch appearances, too, Jay evokes a very broad,
performative sense of excess—he'd physically nudge you to let you know he made
a joke if he could—but it's a style that fits well into this cast, and which
grants him a unique versatility that hasn't been super common this season.
That versatility is nicely matched by the sheer sense of variety at play in
this episode; there's a little bit of everything, and he acclimates himself
well to whatever's required whether that means chewing the scenery or lending
some gravitas to a more complex premise.
</p>
<p>
The big piece worth talking about in this episode, of course, is Jim Downey's
"Target Earth," a piece that notably struggled at table reads from the
previous season due to its more high-concept nature. I'm not surprised Ebersol
had a hard time wrapping his head around Downey's very dry style, but this
one's a pretty unequivocal winner, casting Jay and Robert as two aliens who
threaten to take the citizens of Earth as slaves for their planet... only for
the US government to realize that they're leagues underneath Earth's current
level of modernization. ("But surely they must have much to teach us!" "No.")
It's not just that the premise is a lot of fun; Robert and Jay are
<i>killing</i> it here, and their predilection towards overacting, while
sometimes a bit distracting, gives their performances here a very fun sense of
smarm as they brag about their "sophisticated network of dirt roads" and "the
awesome power of [their] muskets." The whole piece also serves as another
reminder that I really don't agree with Robert's status as "the worst cast
member of all time," and not just because Anthony Michael Hall is in the
<i>same</i> cast—perhaps he can be overeager in his performances, but he hits
when he's served properly, and I have to wonder if he would flourish under a
writing staff that was equipped to take on broader performers.
</p>
<p>
Aside from that, I can see how this episode would have a bit of a checkered
reputation, because I can see most of its sketches being fairly polarizing.
And in all fairness, there's also a real dog... Mike the Dog! This episode has
a sketch where they got a dog who was having a hot few months to do a sketch
where he nods and shakes his head at different prompts, and that's the only
joke. Even by Season 11's standards, it feels curious, though it folds into
the narrative of their increasing desperation pretty easily; there's something
almost kind of sweet about looking back on a simpler time where people were so
impressed by a cute dog following simpler commands, but it simply doesn't
work. Something like this needs a performer willing to key into the inherent
unpredictability of having an animal on set, and suffice to say, Randy is no
Tim Kazurinsky, opting to be patient rather than particularly active. (Mike's
a very good boy, at least, and Jay does his best stereotypical French waiter
voice.) The other most challenging bit in the episode is its incredibly long
"Star Search" sketch, which definitely skirts the line of being classic Season
11 excess... and yet it didn't bother me. It's a collection of hits and
misses, but I like how it has the style of a variety show more than being an
epic; it's an opportunity for the full cast to get involved, do some brief
little character bit, and never risk overstaying their welcome. Sure, some
bits like Robert's miming or Danitra's bad shot-putting don't have much to
them, but they're far from the dregs that we've seen in previous weeks, and
it's all worth it for Damon's bit at the end as "The Angry Comic," actively
threatening the entire white race with some violent, borderline anti-comedy—"A
funny thing happened on my way down here tonight:
<i>I killed three white people</i>... I guess you had to be there."—and then
using his intimidation tactics to force a perfect score from the judges.
(Shout-out to Dennis' appearance in the sketch as well, doing a
comically-stiff rendition of the classic "Olympia Cafe" sketch with Joan.)
I'll save more of my thoughts on Damon for next episode, but I'm sad that
we're at the end of his tenure to say the least.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode is comprised of shorter pieces, though there's some
solid surprises in the mix. While Tom Hanks is sorely missed, I actually liked
this installment of the stand-ups more than the first; Damon and Jon are still
on fire, Dennis is a <i>riot</i> joining in on the fun (he's infinitely more
fun as a sketch performer than he is on Update), and Jay gets his best work of
the night as a veteran lounge comic who praises their approach to comedy while
burrowing deep into his own brand of incessant shtick. There's also an
interesting 10-to-1 which, fitting the vibe of this episode, is pretty
polarizing, and it took me a minute to become receptive with how much Jon and
especially Joan's characters risked seeming, uhh, mentally challenged? But
"The Further Adventures of Biff and Selena" is a sweet slice-of-life piece at
its core, with the pair playing very naive and awkward lovers struggling to
seize upon the romantic feelings they so clearly have for each other. Oh, and
last but not least: the Neville Brothers rocked! If this episode still has a
roughness to it, it's the sort of charming roughness that makes the better
episodes of this season enjoyable. If not for how many other fumbles we've had
lately, it almost feels like the show could be getting somewhere.
<i>(Penned 11/28/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">3/15/86: Griffin Dunne / Roseanne Cash (S11E12)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
There were a lot of positive strides that Season 11 clearly attempted to make,
but the greatest disappointment is how, simply because SNL is SNL, none of
those improvements are able to come into fruition. For as much as I will
bemoan the frustrating misuse of Terry and Danitra, though—two wonderful
performers trapped on a show that couldn't serve them, relegated to relative
obscurity for the rest of their lives—there's no greater poster child for the
season's missed potential than Damon Wayans. It would be hilarious how little
the show saw in Damon, a comedian who would go on to become one of the most
lauded sketch comedians of all time and the cornerstone of an entire family
dynasty, if not for how depressing it is. Even if he's still in the early
phases of his career, and even if he always has a greenness in his
performances, the sheer potential in him is striking; he's a performer who
always makes an instant connection with the audience and knows how to use his
voice without the show needing to prop him up.
</p>
<p>
And yet, he's lucky to be used as an extra in a given episode, and even
luckier to be cast as a slave with one or two lines. I guess that's what being
a "featured player" means at this point of the show's history, where it's
basically a credit thrown to a writer who makes an appearance somewhere so
they can feel happy about themselves. For someone like him who's actually a
performer, it seems to say, "Hey, you can be in the show sometimes, when we
feel like it, but sometimes, you just won't be!" The fact that he's a featured
player, despite clearly possessing a degree of talent equal and sometimes
greater than those around him, is truly ridiculous—and I can't think of
anything that feels more aggressively like rock bottom than the fact that he
was credited <i>after a dog</i> in last week's opening because of
it. All of that leads to this episode, and the infamous "Mr. Monopoly" sketch
where, in an act of rebellion for his repeated squandering, he took his
unremarkable role as a police officer and played him as flaming gay. It sealed
his fate almost immediately; although he got to perform one more sketch in the
episode (a sequel to the Two Jones' sketch from the season premiere), Lorne
chewed him out and fired him on the spot. A fair move for someone attempting
to sabotage the show, I suppose, but it's not like Damon can be blamed for his
lack of diplomacy. At least history proved him right; by the time he hosted in
Season 20, he was bigger than the show that had previously rejected him.
However tacit, it feels like as close an admission of defeat as Lorne will
ever give.
</p>
<p>
It's fair enough that everything involving Damon overshadows this episode,
which truthfully, isn't up to much. (If not for him fucking with the "Mr.
Monopoly" sketch, it would be another piece lost to the sands of time.) I find
it very telling that Season 11 was doing so poorly that Lorne had to swallow
his pride and recruit an Ebersol-era writer for the week—and thank god for
that, because I love me some Andy Breckman! He's not at his best here (though
who's at their best this season anyway?), but his additions give a nice,
whimsical slant to the episode that feels more tonally distinct than usual.
All you have to do is hear the sketch title, "You Can Pick Your Friends, You
Can Pick Your Nose, But You Can't Pick Your Friends' Noses", and you know
you'll be in for a pretty great time; Breckman's a wizard at finding some
simple joy and turning it into a ridiculous, committed idea, and watching
Griffin Dunne (our night's host, by the way!) try to pick Randy's nose while
Jon's talk show host chastises him for his refusal to obey the show's credo is
a fine example of the sort of brilliant stupidity that he can accomplish.
Another of his contributions, a twisted game show called "You Bet Your
Finger!" that gets derailed by a faulty finger guillotine, is similarly
enjoyable if not quite at the same level. While one could blame the one joke's
failure to escalate, I think the greater issue is that classic Season 11
struggle of the cast being ill-equipped to execute the premise as dutifully as
it needs to be executed. (At the very least, Anthony doesn't completely
swallow the sketch's best joke: "Oh golly, what do you think the problem is
there, Brian?" "Looks like gravity, Bob.")
</p>
<p>
(Breckman also wrote "Mr. Monopoly" but... we've talked about that one
enough.)
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode is a fairly mixed bag, but it never feels too dreary
even if it's seldom interesting. It helps that Griffin is a fairly solid and
likable host; reinforcing the Ebersol motif, he almost reminds me of Gary
Kroeger. He's affable, and he sells everything as hard as he can, and in a
season where material can be thin and dire, that's a good energy to have. (How
many other hosts could sell that one-handed performance of the "Wipeout" drum
solo as well as he did in his monologue?) He also contributed some great
dramatic acting work to my favorite non-Breckman sketch of the night, "Tea and
Sympathy," casting him as an undead car crash victim whose yearning for his ex
has prevented him from finding peace. It's not a super funny sketch, and some
of my fellow reviewers have had a hard time with it, but I found it deeply
compelling; there's such a unique atmosphere to it, and Joan's strong, sweet
performance as the mother of Griffin's crush grants the piece more of a
delicate touch to its humor that borders on slice-of-life. ("Don't those kids
realize that I was found clutching the wheel? I mean, my fingers were actually
clutching the wheel at the moment of death on prom night! That should count
for something, don't you think?" "Oh, well it is, it's a <i>very</i> classic
image and it <i>does</i> count for something.")
</p>
<p>
Everything else in this episode I struggle to recollect, or have much comment
on: Terry does his Nancy again for a bit, Don Novello sings some songs, and
Penn & Teller do a trick. It's all pretty whatever, but it fills time. The
show's done better, and the show's also done worse. It's Season 11! I can't
wait to get out of it, and in that sense, I'm very sympathetic of
Damon. <i>(Penned 11/30/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">3/22/86: George Wendt and Francis Ford Coppola / Philip Glass (S11E13)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Desperate times call for desperate measures, but is that always a bad thing?
Season 11, for the most part, would lead you to believe it, amidst the series
of questionable decisions it's made up to this point... but sometimes, out of
adversity, amazing things can happen. It's true that something as crazy as the
George Wendt/Francis Ford Coppola episode could only happen in a season like
Season 11, but it still feels so deeply improbable. With Lorne and SNL in
general, any degree of self-analysis is a slippery slope that risks having its
cake and eating it too, and there's a definite risk of this deeply meta night
being a self-indulgent mess that pokes at the show's systemic problems without
trying to rectify them—and perhaps it does, to some extent. But the <i>audacity</i>
of this episode, and the willingness of the show to hold itself up to some
healthy scrutiny, makes it a legendary success. This is perhaps the most
unique evening of the show that you will <i>ever</i> see.
</p>
<p>
To summarize the gist briefly to any readers who aren't aware: the narrative
of this episode begins with Lorne telling the cast that Francis Ford Coppola
has been brought in as the episode's director per the bequest of the network,
and he has been granted full creative control—and throughout the night,
Coppola misunderstands, twists, deconstructs, and breaks the show's format for
the sake of his own indulgent desire to win an Emmy and create true art. In a
lot of ways it mirror's the show's only other effort to go as strongly meta:
the legendary Charles Grodin episode from Season 3, which pretended that its
host had missed all of the rehearsals for the live show and had no idea what
his role as a host actually involved. There's a lot of comedy to be
mined out of an episode gone wrong, especially since SNL is a show that
thrives on its liveness inherently, but for all of their similarities, the
sheer scope and ambition of this episode helps differentiate it. Charles
Grodin's episode is fantastic, and it still remains one of my favorites of all
time, but part of its effortlessness is that it played out when SNL was at its
prime, working with one of the best casts they've ever had, and that it has
such an ingeniously simple throughline. Whereas that episode also featured
several winners independent from the Grodin storyline, this episode's
narrative is so complex and sprawling that it touches down on almost every
corner of the night's material; if it failed, the whole night would fail, too.
</p>
<p>
It's amazing, then, that basically everything that has to do with the
episode's concept works, even if a few more minor moments pad it out. (It's
also impressive that very little goes wrong; the only gaffe is botching
Francis' mic during his Update appearance, though I'm very used to Update
being a disaster anyway.) There's a great cleverness in how almost every
main sketch in this episode shuffles through a different permutation of the
effects of Coppola's controlling, egotistical nature. Right from the start,
the jazzy opening cast montage have been replaced by brooding opening
credits—in order of appearance, neatly—scored to a dramatic Philip Glass
arrangement, and the monologue sets the tone of the episode right away: after
George delivers his first big joke, Coppola interrupts and attempts to get a
better take out of him while cajoling the studio audience to reimagine hearing
his joke for the first time. ("I want you to react by laughing, but if you
don't feel like laughing, I want you to go back and remember something from
your childhood...") The sketches that follow, for the most part, don't slack
on inventiveness either—there's a murder mystery sketch, for instance, where
he takes over the camera blocking and subsequently botches every single reveal
with incorrect cues that render it unintelligible, and a later Vietnam scene
gets cut short by the revelation that the cast is being shot at and wounded
with live ammunition for "realism" rather than blanks. At a certain point,
you're excitedly waiting to see how a given sketch subverts your expectations,
and every escalation is an utter delight.
</p>
<p>
It's also nice how balanced this episode feels with its cast; it would be a
shame if anyone got snubbed from such a crazy episode, but more than just
giving them all things to do, everyone manages to have a real spotlight
moment. Terry, amusingly, forgoes participating in sketches in favor of
following Francis around, kissing up to him and betraying his fellow
castmates; Randy rattles off a dramatic speech about Francis' lack of humanity
that momentarily causes Francis to walk out in shame at the episode's climax.
Anthony and Robert pull their weight tonight, too, with the former having an
explosive outburst over being shot in the leg and the latter contributing one
of his most memorable bits of insanity, a confrontational monologue while
zipped up in a suitcase. (It's a polarizing bit, but I can't not love lines
like "I know why whales beach themselves... SPIDERMAN TOLD ME!") Best of all,
the perpetually-underused Danitra walks away with the best sketch of the
entire episode, and one of the most fascinating pieces of self-examination
that SNL's ever done, with this week's iteration of "That Black Girl" getting
cut off by Francis for its perceived inauthenticity. At one level, it's
amusing for Francis to fully miss the sketch's satirical underpinnings, and
there's a good laugh from him calling upon the piece's writers and discovering
them to be... the most Aryan trio of people you will ever see. But having
Francis bluntly call out the show's lack of black women writers—none of which
it's had up to this point, and which it will continue <i>not</i> to have for a
long while—is bracing, and Francis telling Danitra, to her face, "I don't
believe that you're a real black women," is a legitimately harrowing moment.
Drained of her concept because it doesn't speak to how Francis perceives "the
black experience," she's forced to transform her sketch into a provocative
piece of drama with a long monologue about the woes of her existence.
Danitra's performed several trunk pieces from her stage show across this
season (there's a significant one coming next week), but this is definitely
the closest she's gotten to creating new, personal content for SNL, and she
does so by brilliantly interrogating how much the show really values—or
perhaps tokenizes—her talents.
</p>
<p>
There are only a handful of people who don't feel as amazingly-served by the
episode, but they're at least decently prominent. Nora slaves away at
supporting/character roles throughout the night, though she does get a fun
team-up with Robert as a pair of pretentious actors dissecting Francis'
career, while Jon reprises both Tommy Flanagan and Master Thespian to mixed
effect, clearly out of fear that the audience would vie for some degree of
familiarity in the midst of the madness. It's also disappointing that George
Wendt, as the night's co-host of sorts, isn't really given much; despite being
deeply-embedded in the narrative, he's mostly relegated to straight roles that
don't let him key into his full comic potential. The best shots he gets are in
the episode's two disconnected, fail-safe sketches that don't tie into the
underlying theme, and while one is typical Franken/Davis nonsense (a
<i>Honeymooners</i> riff, except Ralph finally hits Alice—abuse is funny!),
the whale sketch is a delight, casting him as a fishmonger trying to
desperately to sell a whale that he was erroneously shipped. It's a perfect
blend of Andy Breckman and Jim Downey's writing talents, with moments of
deadpan and quiet sophistication nestled into the absurd conceit, and George
does a perfect job of selling his desperate pleas to customers to buy his
product: "What the kids don't eat, you can melt down for candles!" It's a
strange starting place for someone who would go onto become a recurring
presence in the next era of the show, but George contributes good work when
he's afforded the chance; I just wish he got more to do.
</p>
<p>
But ultimately, it's hard to begrudge the episode's select shortcomings by the
time we get to the grand finale, Coppola's grand tribute to live television.
Jon as Master Thespian rhapsodizes about the history of 8H before commencing a
phenomenal tracking shot through the entire studio while the band plays a
fanfare, with every cast member scattered across the sets giving a bow,
and it's a legitimately awe-inspiring moment; for however much this episode
keeps its tongue firmly in-cheek, the ending truly feels like a love letter to
the studio, so extravagant that it might as well be the last episode of the
show ever. But then, we cut to a bar that George has escaped to after quitting
the episode, and while he watches the grand finale on a small television
screen, all he can mutter is, "The horror... the horror..." It's barely a
funny capper—though Franken scores a laugh by smugly deadpanning, "How do you
think we feel? We're the producers"—but there's such a captivating, poignant
nature to it. As the credits roll, the cast celebrates with Francis while
George tries to hail a cab; in the meta-narrative of the episode, SNL has
triumphed, but at what cost?
</p>
<p>
In a sense, that question stands. What does this episode mean for the rest of
this season? In a weird way... it could mean nothing. And that's not a strike
against it, though it's an interesting sort of observation. SNL is hurting, it
risks cancellation more than ever before, and even Lorne's presence can't
right the ship—so why not let a week spiral out so gloriously? (Even the
choice of musical guest was deeply inspired; Philip Glass and his orchestra
delivered some truly mind-meltingly gorgeous avant-garde performances, the
likes of which we will never see on the show again.) If the Wendt/Coppola
doesn't speak to anything in the long-term, though, perhaps it's best
considered as a reminder that SNL is still a magical show even at its worst,
that it can pull the most magnificent surprise out of nowhere, and that it
shouldn't ever be discounted no matter how dire things feel. Part of the
bittersweet beauty of this episode is that something like this will never
happen again, and that it could've only happened with this deep of a fracture
in SNL's identity, but that makes it all the more outstanding that it even
exists.
</p>
<p>
And now... I can't wait to return to the mundanity. (Just kidding, I totally
could.) <i>(Penned 12/14/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">4/12/86: Oprah Winfrey / Joe Jackson (S11E14)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
After last week's huge success, there are officially no more episodes this
season I'm particularly looking forward to, and of all the episodes we could
air directly after Wendt/Coppola, Oprah Winfrey's is a fairly frustrating
return to earth. But then, regardless of placement, there's a lot to be
nervous about seeing SNL try to work with black female hosts in these early
years; it's the sort of rare event that wouldn't happen again after this
episode until, insanely, 2003, but at least the show was the slightest bit
less homogeneous in its whiteness by that point. If Oprah emerges from this
episode better than Cicely Tyson did from hers in Season 4, it's not much of a
better episode and she's still frustratingly cornered into insulting positions
by the show—the nadir of which being the cold open, a meta bit where she
refuses Lorne's pleas for her to try on an Aunt Jemima costume. It's
wince-worthy enough as is, but knowing that it was based on a real-life
incident courtesy of dumb-fuck Al Franken, and having Danitra show up as
Lorne's slave mistress suggesting that he beat Oprah for her insolence, smacks
of the sort of discomforting, unresolved tension that Oprah was realistically
not powerful enough to fully dissuade. Nonetheless, she puts on a brave face,
gets that shit out of the way, and leads the rest of the show to the best of
her ability. There's ups and downs all over this episode, but amidst the more
difficult moments, there are also some exciting opportunities that she creates
for SNL to take some different paths.
</p>
<p>
Most excitingly, this is the best episode in Danitra's entire tenure. Is there
something sad about the fact that even her best episode features her playing a
slave in her first role of the night? Absolutely, but the rest of the night is
far more generous to her; not only does Oprah's presence allow her to explore
more personal and racial themes with a scene partner, but it opens the doors
for her to have a baseline camaraderie with the host that she's never really
had before. Most surprisingly, Cabrini Green Jackson, who's usually left to
solo pieces or awkwardly shoe-horned into random sketches, actually gets a
full-fledged sketch where she has to break the news to her mother (Oprah) that
she's pregnant. It's such a refreshing change of pace to see a sharp
slice-of-life scene anchored by two black leads, and the fact that they're
able to explore ideas that SNL is rarely entitled to explore—black culture,
social taboos, and socioeconomics—without compromising to the show's white
audience feels legitimately special. I also really appreciated the episode's
10-to-1 and all of its wonkiness, casting Danitra as "One-Shoe Emma," a
waitress at Oprah's diner who is repeatedly mocked over her missing footwear.
Between the very loose but cute narrative, some fun character bits (Randy's
meat-headed dummy, Danitra's yearnful monologuing, and Dennis' very Dennis
performance as her Prince Charming), and the live piano flourishes underlining
pivotal moments in the scene, it feels less like an SNL sketch and more like
it was culled from a scrappy sketch revue. I'd also be remiss not to mention
that, even if Oprah isn't directly involved with the sketch, that Danitra's
performance of "I Play The Maids" in this episode—a scathing satirical song
about the demeaning roles black women have historically had to play in
Hollywood—is no coincidence. Like the installment of "That Black Girl" from
last week, it's damning, too; although it's an import from Danitra's old stage
show, it becomes even more potent on SNL, where she's routinely had to degrade
herself for screentime in other people's sketches: "Fine Hollywood tradition,
I have advice on what to do / But now I have a more modern position: I play
the maids in prime-time, too."
</p>
<p>
There's also a handful of other pieces that I can appreciate for their
attempts at something different, even if they don't full get over. "The Wart
Hog," a sketch about a legendary detective (Randy) who also happens to be a
wart hog, takes a turn when his fellow police investigators whisk him off to
the "World's Most Handsome Man" contest to convince him that he's not as
horrific as he believes himself to be. If the idea needed a bit more to really
work, the meta aspect of everyone racing to a different set mid-investigation
teems with the sort of oddball spontaneity that I love seeing SNL toy with.
The cute shop sketch is also fairly interesting, starting with Oprah fawning
uncontrollably over the adorable stuffed animals in Joan's store before taking
the peculiar, dark turn that Joan is secretly holding customers hostage;
whether or not that twist works for me, both Joan and Oprah submit solid
performances that help the scene land, and as with "The Wart Hog," it's always
a pleasant surprise to be caught off-guard.
</p>
<p>
Unfortunately, the rest of the night is made up of bog standard Season 11
badness. The Pat Stevens Show is being run into the ground, and this week's
installment borders on just being a straight interview with Oprah despite the
promising concept of her teaching Pat a thing or two about running a daytime
talk show. There's also a very unwarranted Tommy Flanagan bit tacked onto
Oprah's monologue, despite the fact that Oprah, for obvious reasons, is one of
the most adept people this season has had at handling a solo monologue. (We do
get the fun of Oprah's absolutely terrible Tommy impression, at least.)
Anthony and Robert, meanwhile, contribute one of the thinnest things I've ever
seen on SNL, a book report comprised entirely of fart noises because, in a
ground-breaking twist, they didn't actually read the book! Comedy! I'm noting
that the segment exists simply because it somehow isn't the worst thing that
Anthony does this episode, and I want to use that to highlight the extent that
the return of "Craig Sundberg: Idiot Savant" is one of the worst fucking
things ever. It was dreadful the first time, and there was <i>no</i> reason
for it to return; it seemingly just exists because Franken and Davis wanted to
channel Anthony's nervous, stilted searching for cue cards into a plausible
character choice.
</p>
<p>
So what is there to make of this episode, then? As with the majority of Season
11, it's a hearty blend of good, or at least interesting material, and white
noise, though I think there's a uniqueness to it that gives it a bit of an
edge in spite of those shortcomings: Danitra's presence is a great asset, and
it feels like the episode's weirdness is more intriguing than dysfunctional.
I've lost any hope of this season improving or finding a sense of stability,
so if this is the kind of benchmark that I have to settle for, then so be it.
<i>(Penned 12/16/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">4/19/86: Tony Danza / Laurie Anderson (S11E15)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Did you know that Tony Danza is Italian? Because he sure seems to make a point
of that with his entire state of being! I kid, to some extent, but it's
interesting; for however weak some of the hosts this season have been, their
lack of range has left them feeling more bland than painfully specific. If
Jerry Hall has the on-screen personality of a coat rack, Tony Danza is so
undeniably Tony Danza, and he's just Danza-ing all over the place all
night—and unfortunately, I'm not very keen on it. There's definitely an
ecosystem where his everyman charms make sense, like in <i>Taxi</i> I'm sure,
but unlike his co-star Danny DeVito, his whole persona feels cliched and
antiquated rather than something enduringly special. (Just take a look at
where both of them were by 2006 to compare; one joined the cast of one of the
most beloved modern sitcoms, and one was on his third year of a daytime talk
show on the verge of cancellation.) Subsequently, this is a bit of a tough
episode to figure out, because whereas Tony's toolset as a host starts to wear
exhaustingly thin, there's a more playful vibe to this episode than Season 11
usually has, and I want to try my darnedest to appreciate that however much it
gets hampered.
</p>
<p>
Another source of difficulty, though, and one that's a lot harder to reconcile
with than Tony being given so much leeway to do his shtick, is that the first
half of this episode is <i>bad</i>. Even if a decent amount of the material
has interesting qualities to it, there's such a bizarre, labored feel, as if
everyone is stretching for time. There's absolutely no reason at all, for
instance, that the Nancy Reagan sketch at the top of this episode should've
been seven minutes long; it's a fun physical comedy showcase for Terry in the
end, as he executes an energetic workout and hoists a massive weight in the
air as the first lady, but it takes so long to get to that point that it
barely feels like a suitable reward. There's also another characteristic S11
stinker in the mix, "Lyndon LaRouche Theater," which feels like something like
a spiritual successor to the season premiere's "National Enquirer Theater"
sketch—only this time, instead of simply being a writer, Al Franken gets to
perform in it, too! It's such a fine line to walk between parodying
exploitative shock and simply <i>partaking</i> in it, and as expected, there's
none of the nuance to the sketch needs to function as anything beyond dumb
shock—Queen Elizabeth is peddling heroin!—and mindless homophobia—Henry
Kissinger has a gay lover! (Tony in that role, by the way is... certainly
something. Very Italian.) Tack Weekend Update on after both of those sketches,
and by the 39 minute mark of this episode, there's only been drips and drabs
of light amusement.
</p>
<p>
That's why I wanna focus more on the back-half, because that feels like where
this episode comes to life; even if not everything works, there's an amazing
sense of variety that feels rare to see but always excites me. My favorite
sketch of the night is the "30 second count" piece, with Jon's ringside
announcer carrying us through a wrestling match plagued by a new rule where
the knock-out count has been increased from 10 seconds to an astronomical 30.
It's ironic that it would end up in an episode where all of the material was
being dragged out to a fault, but it works perfectly here; Tony's boxer
happily beats his opponent into submission (some of Anthony's best work, as he
drools and stares off into space) between prolonged ringside interviews and
awkward cuts to a clip of Tony narrating his life story—all of which happens
to be the night's best use of Tony's natural braggadocio. There's also some
refreshing slice-of-life material, which has felt exceedingly rare this
season, though it's of varying quality. The bedroom scene with Joan is
probably the lowest point of the night for Tony as a performer; it's a solid
script, with the two repeatedly trying to find the breaking point for one
another's love ("Would you love me if I refused to ever have sex with you
again?" "In a different way."), but Tony is fully unable to give his role the
gravitas it requires, and he subsequently just giggles his way through it and
makes a <i>lot</i> of Danza noises. Fortunately, he's kept more at the
outskirts of the return of Biff and Selena, which does a fun job of
world-building upon the previous one. I love seeing recurring characters
placed in a new environment, and the premise of Biff nervously bursting out
into a song he planned at a bar's open mic night for Selena ("Butt dancin',
bay-baaaaay!") offers a tremendous jolt of energy to close out the night as
everyone dances about and shakes their butts. It's the purest sort of fun you
could ask for from SNL, all wrapped up in a delicate character showcase.
</p>
<p>
There's a few other things strewn about, but if they're characteristically
slight, they're not unenjoyable. I enjoyed the sketch where Randy slammed the
shit out of a telephone, apropos of the topical reference it was making,
because chaotic outbursts amuse me to no end; I got some laughs out of the
intense PGA tour advert framing itself like a wrestling ad for the same
reason, even if I think the execution didn't live up to the concept. (We do
get Tony as a Russian golfer though... a very Italian Russian golfer.) Jon
also gets a solo monologue piece as the Master Thespian, because either he or
Tommy has to be in every episode, and while I could've done without it, I at
least appreciated the format change. Last but not least: Laurie Anderson! I
love Season 11's eclectic musical guest choices, and bringing her back after
her memorable performances from the very unmemorable
<i>The New Show</i> is much-appreciated, even if SNL is even
<i>more</i> baffled by how to sound-mix her performances than usual. (Also: I
love how much of an organic fit Philip Glass was for the Wendt/Coppola
episode, but I can barely imagine what a passing conversation between Laurie
and Tony would look like.)
</p>
<p>
In full, I can't really bring myself to like this episode... but I can't bring
myself to dislike it either. It's an uphill battle, but with most of the
exhaustion being pinned to an overexuberant host, it's at least a different
sort of uphill battle than this season usually is. Is that a good thing?
Honestly, at this point, kind of! <i>(Penned 12/18/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C-. </b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">5/10/86: Catherine Oxenberg and Paul Simon / Ladysmith Black Mambazo
(S11E16)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
In this episode's Weekend Update, something significant happens, and it's not
that Dennis Miller finally told a funny joke: he announces that SNL has
officially been renewed for a twelfth season. Amidst the iffy and sometimes
outright terrible episodes scattered across the second half of the season, I
have to wonder what it was that got the show renewed. The promise of some
change, perhaps? The Wendt/Coppola episode proving that there was still a
rebellious creative spirit somewhere deep inside of the show? Who can say.
More than anything else, though it's surprising that such exciting news hasn't
done much to bolster the show's morale; this episode feels, generally, like
it's running against the clock. A few good things, mostly bad. That's Season
11 for you!
</p>
<p>
It's also such a classic Lorne Michaels trick, in times of need or
uncertainty, to stick Paul Simon in his comedy programs to soothe the audience
while he struggles to find a voice for his productions—a trick he's used as
far back as the second episode of SNL, and as recently as the second episode
of <i>The New Show</i>. There's no more damning indication that we're kinda
over everything than forgoing the standard cold open with a Paul Simon musical
performance, but hey, if your comedy can't be counted on, why not go for
something that people might wanna actually see? I'll also give it to Lorne
that Paul is a fairly fun person to rely on; I'm always surprised by how
refined his comic instincts are and how comfortable he is as a live sketch
performer. That's also not intended to dismiss this episode's co-host, since
for some reason Lorne enjoys pairing two entirely random people together to
get more ratings presumably... but Catherine Oxenberg from <i>Dynasty</i> is
here, too! I continue to be shocked that there was ever a time that soap
operas were so big that actors from them could host SNL, but to Catherine's
credit, she's actually quite good, if not given any charitable material to
work with.
</p>
<p>
Paul walks away with the best things from this episode, alongside his
characteristically strong musical performances. (That Ladysmith Black Mambazo
number!) He's put to particularly good use in the night's best sketch, casting
him and Jon as chained-up prisoners intent to hatch fruitless escape plans.
Sure, it's easy to rely on Paul's tiny lil' body to score some easy laughs
(which is fair, because he makes <i>Jon Lovitz</i> look big comparatively),
but he also deploys some legitimately good physical comedy as he flails at
Randy's amused prison guard from his tight shackles, and the bits of absurdist
dialogue keep it engaging through the quieter moments. (Case in point, one of
my favorite moments was just the first line: as we swoop in on the prison
cell, walls covered in tally marks, Jon exclaims, "The first thing we're gonna
do when we get out of here is find the guy who made the marks on these walls
and KILL HIM!") Paul's also at the center of the season's final "Limits of the
Imagination" sketch, an impressively elaborate piece tracing the rise of his
musical career back to a deal with Mephistopheles; I always enjoy Paul's
gameness to take swipes at himself (see again: the height stuff), and ending
with his final moments in the distant year of 2010, discovering his final
resting place in hell to be an elevator playing Muzak versions of his greatest
Simon and Garfunkel hits endlessly, is an excellent little capper to poke fun
at the downsides of his increasingly-secure legacy.
</p>
<p>
Catherine Oxenberg, meanwhile, doesn't get anything remotely tailored to her,
and mostly plows her way through whatever lukewarm material she's given to the
best of her ability. The Late Show with Joan Rivers sketch is classic S11 pop
culture sludge that she's thrown into rather apathetically, and it's the sort
of piece that's simultaneously built only for its specific time but barely
satisfies the contemporary audience attuned to its references. Most
frustratingly, there's no reason that it couldn't work; Terry's Joan Rivers
impression is one of his more fun drag roles and he can chew scenery like a
motherfucker, but he's hampered by the writing's lack of focus or perspective.
Instead, the focus is placed on some immensely-topical dirty laundry
surrounding Jane Fonda, Bridgette Bardot, and Catherine Deneuve and their
clapback to a tell-all novel about their romance with Roger Vadim (I know a
handful of those names!), and all I can really say is that it eerily reminds
me of those random Ebersol-era sketches that I deliberately chose not to write
about because they exist to score cheap brownie points and reinforce the idea
that SNL is, to some extent, designed to reflect the world around it. Against
all odds, though, for however exhausted I am of the character, I found her
sketch alongside Tommy Flanagan far better, and the best non-Paul Simon thing
of the night. Part of why I've become exhausted by him is how lazily he's been
written into meta bits with hosts across the season just being themselves, so
seeing him properly weaved into his own universe, playing off of another
character, is much appreciated. It's pretty old hat, sure, but Jon and
Catherine have a charming chemistry, and I enjoyed Catherine's more grounded
character as a hotel employee pretending to be a popular actress—it mirrors
Tommy, but it doesn't devolve into crude imitation.
</p>
<p>
And... that's pretty much all the stuff worthy of comment from this episode!
Everything else in this episode is actual filler, especially with how much the
back-half devolves and omits Paul from the sketches entirely; instead, we get
a run of thin, shorter pieces that are really, really exhausting. There's a
sketch where Joan, as a mother, monologues about moral clarity while slipping
in and out of silently mouthing her talking points, which fills time; even
more brutally, there's a fake commercial for coffee that Nora and Randy
aggressively yawn their way through, which comes at such a low point in the
episode's rundown that it feels actively spiteful of the audience. When we
finally hit the goodnights, neither Paul or Catherine even say anything;
everyone just kinda claps until the band realizes that they should segue into
the goodnights theme, which feels symbolic in <i>some</i> way. Despite a
handful of enjoyable pieces, this episode sadly doesn't amount to a more
enjoyable whole, and like the show itself, I'm simply eyeing the show's future
instead of finding much joy in its present. <i>(Penned 12/23/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">5/17/86: Jimmy Breslin / Level 42, E.G. Daily (S11E17)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I respect that Jimmy Breslin clearly doesn't give a shit whether or not he
exists for my amusement—as he says in his monologue, "I'm going to spend the
next 90 minutes groveling in the dust trying to make some rat 19 year-olds out
there like me." There's just something inherently fun, especially in such
desperate times for the show, about having a host who doesn't realistically
have anything to prove. In a lot of ways, he reminds me of another of my
favorite improbable hosts, newsman Edwin Newman from Season 9; both Edwin and
Jimmy greet all the material with an undeniable gameness, if one that doesn't
encourage them to stretch their limited range so much as be themselves no
matter who they're supposed to be playing, because quite frankly, being
themselves is <i>enough</i>. While this episode isn't anywhere near as good as
Edwin's was, it's a surprisingly decent outing for the season that finds all
the right uses for its unlikely emcee.
</p>
<p>
I'm not entirely sure why Jimmy Breslin was on the show's radar though, unless
they were seriously scrounging for <i>anyone</i> to host this badly. He's an
investigative journalist more known for his writing than public appearances,
to my knowledge, though it's clear in his monologue that he has a strong
outlook; to quote Wikipedia, he's "the brash embodiment of the street-smart
New Yorker," which is an intelligent way of saying that he has no fucks to
give, but many, many smirks and snarls. There could've been more work done on
the writers' parts to funnel that into weird scenarios, but it's a distinct
enough voice that it manages to shine through even the most rote of offerings.
And fortunately, too, the only time this episode really tries to get away with
using Jimmy at face value is in the season's final installment of The Pat
Stevens Show, though he's able to circumvent the sketch being yet another dull
interview by actively clashing with Pat's stupidity ("Oh, poverty is so sad
because there's nothing we can do about it!") and decrying her lack of
legitimate commentary before storming off-set.
</p>
<p>
Elsewhere, he shines with his surefire brashness, perhaps most enjoyably in
"Midday with Jennifer Hicks," being interviewed alongside Randy and Jon as a
trio of Bond villains who are promoting their new book and reflecting upon the
ineffectiveness of their schemes to defeat James Bond and instead offering
advice on just... getting on with it. The exercise in trope deconstruction
might not be as fresh these days as it was back then, but everyone's more
low-key performances are excellent, and the writing is an indulgent
treasure trove of hyper-specific observations—you can just <i>feel</i> the
feverish pitching in the writer's room as this sketch was being penned. (Among
their advice, by the way: don't let Bond near a self-destruct button, let
alone label it; keep your countdowns short; and if you're using an exotic form
of torture like a slow-moving laser, don't leave the room until he's dead.)
It's the sort of sketch that could work in any era, which is a high
compliment, but the decision to trot it out for this week with Jimmy Breslin
and to cast him as Auric Goldfinger—confessing that his German accent in the
films was from when he was "running away from a lot of things"—is
pitch-perfect, too.
</p>
<p>
There's a similarly timeless feel to my favorite piece of the night, "Lone
Wolf McCord," a take on a gritty cop show where Randy's lone wolf detective
gets chewed out for his cavalier, aggressive school of police work... only to
become deeply distraught and needy when he realizes how everyone actually sees
him. There's almost something Steve Martin-esque to me in how Randy
emotionally collapses, trying to defend his peculiarities tactfully despite
being a blubbery mess ("I try to go by the rules but it's so hard! I mean if a
car's going fast, you have to go fast too to catch em, don't ya? And I know I
use a big gun, but I need one, I have big hands!"), and Jimmy makes for an
especially fun foil to him as the gruff police chief who struggles through
ineffectual damage control, only to make Randy more and more cripplingly
self-aware. This is also a good time to mention that Marvelous Marvin Hagler
is this episode's special guest, for some reason! I guess it's because Lorne
felt a need to cram as many disconnected people into these last three episodes
of the season as possible, and really, who's more of a polar opposite from
Jimmy Breslin than a professional boxer? He's a pretty affable presence,
though, and he does a fun job of adding to the sketch as a fellow cop
attempting to assuage Randy's humiliation while struggling not to acknowledge
the truthfulness of how the others have assessed him. There's no denying that
he's not the most natural comic performer, but the night is wise to maintain
him at a special guest capacity, letting him play off of his boxer persona in
a few other inconsequential, occasionally-charming pieces. Most notably
there's the cold open, where Dennis Miller reports on his upcoming fight
against Anthony Michael Hall. It's... alright to start the episode off with, I
guess? It feels like there's a direct correlation between Anthony's
involvement in a sketch, and how bad it is (see: the <i>New Show</i>-esque
"Tornadoville" sketch in this episode which he fails to save from collapsing
under the weight of its own concept); he's pretty present here, doing some
scary mugging and blaccent work in between missed cues, but we do get a few
fun moments with Marvin and the season's final serving of Tommy Flanagan as
Anthony's wrestling manager. Hooray!
</p>
<p>
In addition to Tommy and Pat, there's a few more farewells for the season as
well, and ones that actually mark the end of the road rather than a mere
transition into the next era. Among them, I can't say that Randy's Ronald
Reagan impression will be sorely missed, though I'll give him a bit of credit:
it's a big task to play the president on SNL, especially coming off of a
period of the show's history which was so apolitical and with the last
reference point being Dan Aykroyd's great Jimmy Carter. Randy never clicked
into the role too meaningfully, and while this final installment has a bit
more going on conceptually that I appreciated, the superimposed shoulder angel
and devils felt too cutesy and mostly amounted to Randy talking awkwardly to
himself. I'm more sad about this episode marking the final appearance of
Danitra's Cabrini Green Jackson, though it's nice that the season is finding
increasingly interesting ways to use her. This is probably the best send-off
that she could get, and it's a fitting one for Danitra as well even if there's
still one episode left this season; rejoining on the stage for a very nice
musical number with the Mell-O White Boys, the back-up singers from her
original, pre-SNL stage show, is a bittersweet, full-circle moment for her
tenure.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode isn't all that exciting, but it's stuff that I can
generally let slide; I can't let the continued awfulness of Weekend Update and
the worst Sam Kinison routine yet hold back my grades for episodes, even if
they hold back my enjoyment of the episode as a whole in key places, because
it's simply not fair to everyone else. And everyone does pretty well here!
Even if this is a far from perfect week, we're at a point in the season where
I was surprised to see a show that felt particularly energetic and involved,
and for Jimmy Breslin of all people! (And hell, we also get E. G. Daily, the
future voice actor for Tommy Pickles form <i>Rugrats</i>, performing a music
number as a sex doll come to life and dancing with Jon as Biff! That's some
fun craziness that deserves mention!) It's a strange penultimate episode, and
it doesn't feel like it's fighting particularly hard ahead of the finale so
much as casually existing, but I'll happily accept its laid-back, playful
charms in the moment. Only one more to go, everybody. Let's make it count!
<i>(Penned 12/27/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">5/24/86: Anjelica Huston and Billy Martin / George Clinton & The
Parliament Funkadelic (S11E18)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
There's a bizarre symmetry to the fact that the season began by sending all of
our cast members to hell, and it's ending by trapping them in a fire. It's one
of the most infamous moments in the show's history, and certainly one of the
greatest talking points for the season; concluding an episode-long arc
surrounding co-host Billy Martin's questionable involvement, and under the
temptation of Mephistopheles, Billy douses the cast locker room with kerosene
and sets it ablaze with the full cast inside. I, for one, have no idea how to
really interpret it. It's SNL confessing that the past season has been a
disaster, and that none of its cast members aside from Jon Lovitz—personally
spared by Lorne—have a particularly high value. Is the show qualified to be
making these meta references to itself, at the expense of its own cast and
writers? Is this commentary an admission of defeat couched in cynicism, or
merely a smug display that the show is ahead of its own critics? I'm not sure.
But as the cast ran about through the goodnights, screaming and fending off
the smoke and crudely-imposed flames, I was mostly left wondering how any of
them feel about the past season they spent at SNL.
</p>
<p>
I feel like this back-half has been a particularly weird time for the show,
where the cast has started to fragment even more than they were already
fragmented. Especially since the announcement that the show had been renewed
for a twelfth season, it feels like the cast has started filing down separate
tracks: while the likes of smug ol' Dennis and the omnipresent Jon and Nora
feel assured, and sometimes outright celebratory, the vast majority of the
cast is left to fight against a show that is quickly losing interest in them
in favor of the prospects of cleaning house. And sure, it's obvious that
someone like Anthony had no use being on SNL and others like Robert and Joan
were simply too young, but I feel like it's telling that for all of the show's
attempts to surge into a radically new era with the likes of Terry, Danitra,
and (momentarily) Damon bringing exciting new qualities to the show at the
start, they've clearly turned against their initial vision, and with that,
those who were supposed to break new ground by the end. For however eagerly I
look forward to the era of Phil Hartman, Dana Carvey, Jan Hooks, and Kevin
Nealon, too, I can't help but feel that it's an egregious failing of the show
that it whiffed an attempt at exciting unconventionality so much that they
only found stability again by loading the show with such a thoroughly
unchallenging cast. These aren't people who made the season worse, yet they've
found themselves at the show's mercy in spite of everything they attempted to
offer... and that just makes me sad, quite frankly. They were failed, and the
same hubris that failed them makes the whole fire concept a bit too
disgraceful and shameless for me to fully connect with.
</p>
<p>
There's also, however, a whole episode attached to that moment, though having
now seen it in full, it's no great surprise that it's dwarfed by its notorious
ending—there's not a ton going on here, especially for a finale. SNL season
finales are always sort of a challenging affair, because you hope for
something more bombastic but usually get an episode that trudges its way to
the finish line, and I really shouldn't have expected anything more from a
season which already feels like it's barely making it to the live show half
the time as is... but disappointment is such an easy thing to feel! It's kind
of hard to know what anyone was going for with this one, perhaps most of all
because neither of its co-hosts are able to do that much for the episode. It
was funny to learn recently that Anjelica Huston was
<a href="https://www.vulture.com/2020/04/dan-vitale-snl-interview.html">very close to becoming an SNL cast member</a> considering that, if this is any indication, she would've fit right in
as another clearly-talented actor shoved awkwardly into an environment that
does not play to her skills. There's not a single thing in this episode that
she lands, and she's quick to make gaffes or blow cues in a halting manner;
hell, at one point, during the "mafia greeting cards" sketch where she's
picking and reading different Hallmark cards, she ends up reading the same
card twice. Billy Martin isn't that much better, but against all odds, he
feels like a more enjoyable presence, maybe because he possesses that Jimmy
Breslin quality of having nothing to prove. He's just having a blast, clearly
thrilled with whatever he's been written into despite the episode's attempts
to cast him as disgruntled and temperamental, so it's a shame that he vanishes
in the second half and mostly exists to carry the episode's
pseudo-narrative.
</p>
<p>
The episode's sketches, for the most part, aren't really written with the host
in mind, either. Frequently, Anjelica or Billy are casually involved, rarely
asked to do much or be particularly funny so much as meld with the ensemble
and try to make things work alongside everyone else. There's a few interesting
ideas, but sadly, they feel bogged down by the complexities of this season and
unable to live up to their promise. I liked the meta sketch prefaced by Lorne
as a piece pulled from the previous week for promoting alcoholism, for
instance, only to play out as a gracelessly glamorized celebration of
drinking, but aside from some funny, on-the-nose dialogue—"You sure drink like
a glamorous role model!" "Just remember, it doesn't matter how much you drink!
Just that you drink as much as you can!"—it has absolutely nowhere to go after
the initial reveal beyond a mildly-amusing tag from Randy. I similarly love
the idea of the "moments of doubt" sketch, with Anjelica, Randy, and Joan
burrowing deep into internal monologues during family breakfast, but its
execution feels too straightforward. I'll at least reward points for its
brevity, and ending on the family dog's internal monologue ("Food...
outside... outside... food...") is the sort of clever escalation I would've
liked to see the whole sketch pursuing.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode is more decidedly cast-driven, in good ways and bad.
The best of the night's offerings, in my opinion, was the lesbian bar sketch,
where Joan's straight character is slowly whittled down by Nora as she
realizes that there's nothing a man could do that Nora couldn't; while it's
far from perfect (the ending especially doesn't work, if a bit cute), there's
a surprising progressiveness to it in how it chooses not to gawk at Nora's
character or demonize her sexuality so much as elevate her as a decisive,
unflinching, attraction-warping bachelorette. Kudos to Nora, too, for landing
her character so perfectly—she has an immaculate level of control as a
performer that makes it clear that her place at the show is secure through the
summer. I also quite enjoyed Danitra's final solo piece as Aquanetta
Feinstein, reading her inner-city adaptions of classic nursery rhymes: "Humpty
Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall! Humpty Dumpty DEAD!"
It's not her best sketch, but it's one final, parting reminder of everything
she could've brought to the show, had the show accommodated more for her
voice; even with her tenure about to expire, she maintains such an
eye-catching poise. If there's one cast member who walks away from this
episode looking particularly unfortunate, though, it's Terry, who dons
horrendous blackface as Patti LaBelle in his final sketch appearance,
hollering at the movies with poor Danitra in tow. It's so goddamn hacky, and
he's caked in so much greasepaint that his teeth look like they're glowing;
for however much I've liked Terry, he's certainly a complicated performer who
didn't hesitate with this sort of stuff to the very end.
</p>
<p>
It's also worth mentioning that this episode, as a finale, does feature some
surprising pseudo-cameos to goose the proceedings up, to varying degrees of
effectiveness. Al Franken makes his first return to the Update Desk since
eviscerating Jean Doumanian in Season 6 to comment on the status of the Al
Franken decade, and it amounts to a smarmy and shameless plug for his movie,
<i>One More Saturday Night</i>, while directing the television audience to
specific theaters it would play at—eye roll. Father Guido Sarducci also makes
a couple minor appearances in this episode, narrating the final SNL Dancers
number and doing a little ad for his new bocce ball video guide, both offering
the usual Sarducci softness that passes right through me. The most exciting
special guest for the episode is Damon Wayans, who's return for some stand-up
feels like a gesture of gratitude from Lorne... or maybe just a sneaky way to
bring Damon back and throw him into the fire for the goodnights. Either way,
he's pretty great, taking the opportunity to flaunt his talents without being
impeded by the restrictions of being a cast member, and aside from a handful
of unfortunate moments, he emerges with the most laughs out of the entire
night.
</p>
<p>
And with that... that's the episode. And that's the season! Wow. When it's the
end of an era, I usually spend my final review reflecting and reminiscing, but
quite frankly I'm just over the moon to be done with Season 11. It's the least
I've ever enjoyed SNL, and while I'm sad to say goodbye to a handful of
performers (more on that if you scroll down), their status as shining lights
in the darkness felt actively diminished by the show's mishandling of them. I
can't really give SNL any credit for this strange chapter beyond that it
successfully siphoned out the most applicable performers with its format and,
as time would have it, successfully power-washing the memories of this season
away from everyone's collective memories. These scars on me, though, having to
write about every single one of these last eighteen episodes... will they ever
leave? Probably. I like being overdramatic! Maybe this is a gassed-out
final paragraph, but I'm just mirroring the source material. Either way, I've
eaten my vegetables, and I can't wait to discover what's next in store.
Onwards and upwards! <i>(Penned 12/28/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p></p>
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</div>
<p></p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;"><b>Cumulative Season Rankings:</b><br /></span><b>1.</b> George Wendt and Francis Ford Coppola / Philip Glass (A+)<br /><b>2.</b> John Lithgow / Mr. Mister (B)<br /><b>3.</b> Tom Hanks / Sade
(B)<br /><b>4.</b> Jay Leno / The Neville Brothers (B-)<br /><b>5.</b> Dudley Moore / Al Green (B-)<br /><b>6.</b> Pee-Wee Herman / Queen
Ida & The Bon Temps Zydeco Band (C+)<br /><b>7.</b> Ron Reagan / The
Nelsons (C+)<br /><b>8.</b> Jimmy Breslin / Level 42, E.G. Daily (C+)<br /><b>9.</b> Chevy Chase / Sheila E. (C)<br /><b>10.</b> Griffin Dunne /
Roseanne Cash (C)<br /><b>11.</b> Anjelica Huston and Billy Martin /
George Clinton & Parliament Funkadelic (C)<br /><b>12.</b> Oprah
Winfrey / Joe Jackson (C)<br /><b>13.</b> Teri Garr / Dream Academy, The
Cult (C-)<br /><b>14.</b> Tony Danza / Laurie Anderson (C-)<br /><b>15.</b> Catherine Oxenberg and Paul Simon / Ladysmith Black Mambazo (C-)<br /><b>16.</b> Harry Dean Stanton / The Replacements (D+)<br /><b>17.</b> Madonna
/ Simple Minds (D+)<br /><b>18.</b> Jerry Hall / Stevie Ray Vaughn,
Double Trouble (D)
</p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE SKETCHES:<br />10.</b> "30 Second Count" (S11E15 / Tony
Danza)<br /><b>9.</b> "Cliches" (S11E04 / John Lithgow)<br /><b>8.</b> "Fish Market" (S11E13 / George Wendt and Francis Ford Coppola) <br /><b>7. </b>"Lone Wolf McCord" (S11E17 / Jimmy Breslin)<br /><b>6.</b> "The Limits
of the Imagination" (S11E08 / Dudley Moore)<br /><b>5. </b>"Shakespeare
in the Slums" (S11E09 / Ron Reagan)<br /><b>4.</b> "Master Thespian"
(S11E04 / John Lithgow) <br /><b>3. </b>"That Black
Girl" (S11E13 / George Wendt and Francis Ford Coppola)<br /><b>2. </b>"Target Earth" (S11E11 / Jay Leno)<br /><b>1.</b> "Grand Finale" (S11E13
/ George Wendt and Francis Ford Coppola)
</p>
<p>
<b>Other great sketches:</b> "Where You're Going" (S11E01 / Madonna);
"Those Unlucky Andersons" and "The Life of Vlad the Impaler" (S11E02 / Chevy
Chase); "Vegas Nancy" (S11E04 / John Lithgow); "Liars," "Fantasy,"; "Time
Machine Trivia Game" (S11E06 / Teri Garr); "Stand-Ups" (S11E11 / Jay Leno);
"You Can Pick Your Friends, You Can Pick Your Nose, But You Can't Pick Your
Friends' Noses" and "Tea and Symphony" (S11E12 / Griffin Dunne);
"Prison" (S11E16 / Catherine Oxenberg and Paul Simon); "Midday with
Jennifer Hicks" (S11E17 / Jimmy Breslin).
</p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE MUSICAL PERFORMANCES:</b><br /><b>10.</b> Al Green (S11E08 /
Dudley Moore)<br /><b>9.</b> Laurie Anderson (S11E15 / Tony Danza)<br /><b>8.</b> Paul Simon and Ladysmith Black Mambazo (S11E16 / Catherine
Oxenberg and Paul Simon)<br /><b>7.</b> Sheila E. (S11E02 / Chevy
Chase)<br /><b>6.</b> The Neville Brothers (S11E11 / Jay Leno)<br /><b>5.</b> George Clinton & The Parliament Funkadelic (S11E18 / Angelica
Huston and Billy Martin)<br /><b>4.</b> Dream Academy (S11E06 / Teri
Garr)<br /><b>3.</b> Sade (S11E05 / Tom Hanks)<br /><b>2.</b> Dudley
Moore & The SNL Band playing "I Got You" (S11E08 / Dudley Moore)<br /><b>1.</b> Philip Glass (S11E13 / George Wendt and Francis Ford Coppola)
</p>
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</div>
<p>
<b>WEEKEND UPDATE:</b> I wanted some serious change from how little
Ebersol valued the fake news slot throughout his entire run, but I guess
Dennis Miller's Weekend Update is a precautionary tale to be careful what you
wish for. If it isn't clear from my periodic snipes from the past season of
reviews, I don't like Dennis much. It's not even strictly a matter of failing
to separate the jingoistic nutcase he's become in the present from his spry
younger self—I just don't think his persona has aged well <i>at all</i>. Maybe
it was fresh in 1985 to have a comic be so erudite, conceited, and apathetic
of the audience's approval, especially after years of semi-desperate or
crestfallen anchors, but Dennis feels like an overcorrection. He's just...
obnoxious. His comedy exists solely to entertain himself, and it isn't very
fun watching some comedian jizz all over himself every single week as if he
exists above the ensemble.
</p>
<p>
It's annoying, then, that audiences <i>ate him up</i>. Even if his persona
pretends that their approval means nothing, it's obvious that it only serves
as more justification for Dennis to burrow deeper and deeper into himself; I'm
left to assume that he'll only grow more and more insufferable as the years go
by. The best I can give him right now is that there are moments of spark,
ad-libs that reflect his remarkable sense of assuredness, and silly bits where
he feels more like a human than the physical embodiment of smugness. There's
just too small an amount for those faint charms for them not to take a hit as
his ego accelerates.
</p>
<p>
As for the correspondent spots on Update... it was a pretty rough season, and
definitely a step back from Season 10. (I already greatly miss the Ebersol
era's frequent rotation of cast members doing bits at the desk as themselves.)
Damon had a handful of decent early spots, and Nora debuted her sex kitten
Babette character in the back-half, but it felt like we were lucky to get
anything beyond a very stiff rotation. The one shining light in the darkness
was the introduction of A. Whitney Brown and his signature "The Big Picture"
pieces, though admittedly I could struggle to get into them on the occasion
because of how much Dennis' Updates, and the season in general, bludgeoned any
degree of intelligent conversation into white noise. He's certainly skilled at
what he does, though, navigating complex issues with surgeon-like precision
and sharp comic insights, and I appreciate the edge that he brings to the show
more than the umpteenth Father Guido Sarducci guest spot. Either way, this
inaugural season of Dennis' Update felt less like a playground for characters
than previous years. I can only hope that, like his mullet, it'll continue to
grow more wild and unkempt.
</p>
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<p>
<b>SOME WORDS ON THE DEPARTING CAST:</b> Time for a round-up of all of
our one-season wonders and whoopsies!
</p>
<p>
Randy Quaid may have become something of a laughing stock as time went on
indebted to his modern-day insanity, but it's striking to look back on him in
his heyday; he's certainly been the most underrated, malleable, and reliable
cast member this season. While the introduction of Phil Hartman next season
effortlessly washed away his unique position in this cast as comparatively
lesser, it's mean to fully discredit how capable he was of interpreting the
material he was given, regardless of quality, and making it all just that
little bit more palatable. There were a lot of ways that the show set him up
to fail—he had to serve as the face of the show's political satire with a
confounding Reagan impression, and his status as a capable performer was all
too easily exploited in most of the season's worst sketches—but he never made
it look like he was under duress no matter how much was collapsing around him.
He was the elder statesmen of the season, an overqualified performer who was
happy to spend a year working at the show and supporting those around him, and
given SNL's stability, I really appreciated that. I'm sure they appreciated
it, too.
</p>
<p>
Anthony Michael Hall, meanwhile, is the complete inverse of Randy, a performer
with limited qualifications to be doing what he was asked to do for the show.
His hiring was Lorne's most hedonistic move: it doesn't matter if he's only 17
years old and has absolutely no sketch comedy experience, because he'll get
people to tune in to the show! And maybe he did, but what those people saw was
a person so far out of their depth that he actively ruined almost everything
he touched. Being thrown into an unintuitive environment drained him of all of
his charm, and the most laughs he got out of me were from his sheer badness in
most of the sketches he participated in, where he'd frequently scan about the
room in search of cue cards or fumble every punchline he was presented. The
writers certainly tried to work with him—he felt <i>all too present</i> a lot
of weeks—and unlike a lot of his other fellow cast members, he wasn't actively
failed by them so much as he failed himself.
</p>
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</div>
<p>
And yet it's Robert Downey Jr. who seems to have attracted so much renewed
attention for his brief SNL tenure as the worst who's ever done it, and I
think that's incredibly unfair. He was certainly brought into the show a few
years too early, and some level of refinement would've served him well, but I
could never be angry with his lack of polish; he had an innate energy to him,
maniacal but surprisingly articulate, that I think could've been harnessed to
far greater effect if the writing played more to his favor. It's worth noting that Robert was actually asked to come back for Season 12, though he
turned it down upon finding out that he wouldn't be able to go forward
alongside Anthony... I find that interesting, and perhaps a bit symbolic of
how much Anthony could kneecap his potential in the sheer act of being tied to
a lesser performer. (I'd rather remember him less for his fart book report
alongside Anthony than for his recurring actors segment alongside Nora, where
he barreled through the dense, verbose writing and maintained a strong
characterization without ever missing a beat.) Either way, while I don't know
how he would've slotted into the next era's cast, I personally believe he
would've benefitted from more time to hone his voice at the show, with help
from writers who sought to explore his potential. As it stands, I think he's a
touch underrated—certainly flawed, but charmingly so, and his charisma made up
for his lack of discipline. We need cast members like that sometimes.
</p>
<p>
Joan Cusack was in a similar predicament, where it's sort of painful to think
about how much more successful she'd be at the show with a few more years of
experience under her belt. Whereas I think Robert had room for growth, though,
I think Joan had too many ups and downs that it's hard to consider what her
trajectory would be like if she stayed with the show beyond this one season.
When it came to more broad comedic performances especially, she felt fairly uncomfortable and was prone to questionable character choices. With that being
said, though, she was also shockingly capable at inhibiting more complex
roles, especially in sketches with more of a slice-of-life vibe; I think
frequently about her pitch-perfect role as a sympathetic mother in "Tea and
Sympathy," and sketches where she's simply supposed to exist in the world of a
scene, like "Fantasies" from Tom Hanks or "Cliches" from John Lithgow, were a
particular strong suit. I guess, in addition to her youthful inexperience,
that's the parable of bringing someone into SNL who's more of an actor than a
comedian and trying to fit them into a box that they don't really fit into.
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Terry Sweeney seems to be something of a polarizing cast member among fans in
conversations surrounding this season, though I veer more positive towards
him. It's true that there are some things about him, like his willingness to
do blackface to play certain drag roles, which are simply unacceptable, but
I've noticed a lot of other people criticizing him for being seemingly all too
eager to get in a dress and do drag roles in general... but that's not
something I really hold against him. Sure, I'd have loved to have sees Terry
do more varied work, but it would also be ridiculous to suggest that SNL
wasn't equally or even more at fault for failing to understand how to use the
openly-gay, campy performer; for as remarkably magnetic as he was on-screen,
he frequently eluded the writers and rarely got the chance to demonstrate his
full capabilities. I'd be remiss not to mention, for instance, that he was a
remarkably gifted physical performer, but aside from a handful of Nancy Reagan
pieces, when did he really get to display that? It's hard to say what his
tenure would've looked like if he survived the chopping block with Season 12
functioning a very different wavelength, but in an alternate, more progressive
universe, I bet he could've been a fine cast member. In this universe though,
where his greatest advocate was Al Franken... shit's
<i>rough</i>.
</p>
<p>
I've talked about Damon Wayans prominently in the Griffin Dunne review, but
I'll quickly reiterate: what a waste. I was talking to my watchalong buddy
about Season 11, though, and he lumped Damon into the same camp as Joan in
terms of being a performer who was tragically placed into the show before his
time. I can understand that sentiment to some extent, given Damon's rapid
ascent in the five years that would follow that culminated in
<i>In Living Color</i>, but I feel like there's no telling how good of a cast
member Damon could've been if he was really given the time of day. He was
prone to breaking, but he had a natural charm that ensured no flub ever played
to his detriment, and I feel that if he got more screen time to work through
his greenness, he could've quickly honed his chops and become more of a
fixture. But alas, he was slotted in as the season's sole legitimate featured
player (my apologies to Dan Vitale) for no real reason, and his frequent
barring from participation clarified that he would never be entitled to the
success at SNL that he deserved. So really, kudos to him for leaving and
blazing his own path. He certainly didn't need the show as much as the show
needed him.
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Last but absolutely not least is Danitra Vance, whose departure from the show
is one of the most disappointing things for me about entering the next era of
the show. As it stands, she's one of the greatest one-season wonders the
show's ever had, and it's all the more impressive given everything she had to
fight against. Danitra was frequently misused, degraded, or struggled with her
dyslexia when shoe-horned into other people's sketches, all of which suggests
that being a cast member was simply untenable... and yet, her comic brilliance
shone brightly, indebted to the bevy of character pieces she was able to bring
from her earlier stage shows. I give SNL credit for giving her room to be
unequivocally herself, certainly more than any other cast member this season,
even if it doesn't deserve any credit for its fruitless attempts to integrate
her more into the show's fabric. For as tragically short as her life would end
up being, too, I'm glad that she could be on SNL and have her work be
broadcast to millions of viewers and archived—it's such a shame to me
personally that so much of her other material lacks strong documentation.
Everything she brought to the show, though, was essential to the season's
occasional success; Danitra was brilliant, vulnerable, and so thoroughly ahead
of her time that her material is as striking now as it was then. She deserved
so much better than she ever received.
</p>
<p><b>SEASON AVERAGE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">Follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>!</i>
</p>
<p>
<b>SPECIAL THANKS TO MY AMAZING PATRONS: </b>Andrew Dick, William Ham,
PC, John Wickham, Jeffrey U, and Richard A.
</p>
<p>
If you'd like to support my work alongside these distinctly wonderful
people, <a href="https://www.patreon.com/mattalamode"><b>follow me on Patreon</b></a>! For only $3 a month, you can read my reviews as they're written as well as
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</p>
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<p style="text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;"><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 1</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 2</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-reviewed-and-ranked.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 3</a><br style="font-style: normal;" /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/09/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 4</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/12/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 5</a></span><br style="font-style: normal;" /><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 6</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/03/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 7</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 8</a><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 9</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 10</a> | <i><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><b>Season 11 <br /></b></span></i><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 12<br /></a><br /></span></i></p>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-57501071238445966262022-12-28T14:00:00.005-06:002022-12-28T14:18:34.530-06:00Vintage Saturday Night Live Review: George Wendt and Francis Ford Coppola / Philip Glass (S11E13)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"I want you to react by laughing, but if you don't feel like
laughing, I want you to go back and remember something from your
childhood..."</span></i></b></span>
</div>
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<p>
<b>NOTE: Hey, everybody! I was planning on posting this on Christmas, but then
I totally forgot about that like a complete idiot. But I'm posting it now,
because while it's attached to my review coming out in a few days, it's such
a substantive piece of writing that I'd like it to also exist on its own so
that it can get more unique web traffic and serve as an independent writing
sample.</b>
</p><p><i>(<a href="https://archive.org/details/saturday-night-live-s-11-e-13-george-wendt-francis-ford-copolla-phillip-glass">The full episode can be watched here.</a>)</i></p>
<p>
Desperate times call for desperate measures, but is that always a bad thing?
Season 11 of <i>Saturday Night Live</i>, for the most part, would lead you to believe it, amidst the series
of questionable decisions it's made up to this point... but sometimes, out of
adversity, amazing things can happen. It's true that something as crazy as the
George Wendt/Francis Ford Coppola episode could only happen in a season like
Season 11, but it still feels so deeply improbable. With Lorne Michaels and SNL in
general, any degree of self-analysis is a slippery slope that risks having its
cake and eating it too, and there's a definite risk of this deeply meta night
being a self-indulgent mess that pokes at the show's systemic problems without
trying to rectify them—and perhaps it does, to some extent. But
the <i>audacity</i> of this episode, and the willingness of the show
to hold itself up to some healthy scrutiny, makes it a legendary success. This
is perhaps the most unique evening of the show that you
will <i>ever</i> see.<span></span></p><a name='more'></a>
<p></p>
<p>
To summarize the gist briefly to any readers who aren't aware: the narrative
of this episode begins with Lorne telling the cast that Francis Ford Coppola
has been brought in as the episode's director per the bequest of the network,
and he has been granted full creative control—and throughout the night,
Coppola misunderstands, twists, deconstructs, and breaks the show's format for
the sake of his own indulgent desire to win an Emmy and create true art. In a
lot of ways it mirror's the show's only other effort to go as strongly meta:
the legendary <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-reviewed-and-ranked.html">Charles Grodin episode from Season 3</a>, which pretended that its
host had missed all of the rehearsals for the live show and had no idea what
his role as a host actually involved. There's a lot of comedy to be
mined out of an episode gone wrong, especially since SNL is a show that
thrives on its liveness inherently, but for all of their similarities, the
sheer scope and ambition of this episode helps differentiate it. Charles
Grodin's episode is fantastic, and it still remains one of my favorites of all
time, but part of its effortlessness is that it played out when SNL was at its
prime, working with one of the best casts they've ever had, and that it has
such an ingeniously simple throughline. Whereas that episode also featured
several winners independent from the Grodin storyline, this episode's
narrative is so complex and sprawling that it touches down on almost every
corner of the night's material; if it failed, the whole night would fail, too.
</p>
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<p>
It's amazing, then, that basically everything that has to do with the
episode's concept works, even if a few more minor moments pad it out. (It's
also impressive that very little goes wrong; the only gaffe is botching
Francis' mic during his Update appearance, though I'm very used to Update
being a disaster anyway.) There's a great cleverness in how almost every
main sketch in this episode shuffles through a different permutation of the
effects of Coppola's controlling, egotistical nature. Right from the start,
the jazzy opening cast montage have been replaced by brooding opening
credits—in order of appearance, neatly—scored to a dramatic Philip Glass
arrangement, and the monologue sets the tone of the episode right away: after
George Wendt delivers his first big joke, Coppola interrupts and attempts to get a
better take out of him while cajoling the studio audience to reimagine hearing
his joke for the first time. The sketches that follow, for the most part, don't slack
on inventiveness either—there's a murder mystery sketch, for instance, where
he takes over the camera blocking and subsequently botches every single reveal
with incorrect cues that render it unintelligible, and a later Vietnam scene
gets cut short by the revelation that the cast is being shot at and wounded
with live ammunition for "realism" rather than blanks. At a certain point,
you're excitedly waiting to see how a given sketch subverts your expectations,
and every escalation is an utter delight.
</p>
<p>
It's also nice how balanced this episode feels with its cast; it would be a
shame if anyone got snubbed from such a crazy episode, but more than just
giving them all things to do, everyone manages to have a real spotlight
moment. Terry Sweeney, amusingly, forgoes participating in sketches in favor of
following Francis around, kissing up to him and betraying his fellow
castmates; Randy Quaid rattles off a dramatic speech about Francis' lack of humanity
that momentarily causes Francis to walk out in shame at the episode's climax.
Anthony Michael Hall and Robert Downey Jr. pull their weight tonight, too, with the former having an
explosive outburst over being shot in the leg and the latter contributing one
of his most memorable bits of insanity, a confrontational monologue while
zipped up in a suitcase. (It's a polarizing bit, but I can't not love lines
like "I know why whales beach themselves... SPIDERMAN TOLD ME!") Best of all,
the perpetually-underused Danitra Vance walks away with the best sketch of the
entire episode, and one of the most fascinating pieces of self-examination
that SNL's ever done, with this week's iteration of "That Black Girl" getting
cut off by Francis for its perceived inauthenticity. At one level, it's
amusing for Francis to fully miss the sketch's satirical underpinnings, and
there's a good laugh from him calling upon the piece's writers and discovering
them to be... the most Aryan trio of people you will ever see. But having
Francis bluntly call out the show's lack of black women writers—none of which
it's had up to this point, and which it will continue <i>not</i> to
have for a long while—is bracing, and Francis telling Danitra, to her face, "I
don't believe that you're a real black women," is a legitimately harrowing
moment. Drained of her concept because it doesn't speak to how Francis
perceives "the black experience," she's forced to transform her sketch into a
provocative piece of drama with a long monologue about the woes of her
existence. Danitra's performed several trunk pieces from her stage show across
this season (there's a significant one coming next week), but this is
definitely the closest she's gotten to creating new, personal content for SNL,
and she does so by brilliantly interrogating how much the show really
values—or perhaps tokenizes—her talents.
</p>
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<p>
There are only a handful of people who don't feel as amazingly-served by the
episode, but they're at least decently prominent. Nora Dunn slaves away at
supporting/character roles throughout the night, though she does get a fun
team-up with Robert as a pair of pretentious actors dissecting Francis'
career, while Jon Lovitz reprises both Tommy Flanagan and Master Thespian to mixed
effect, clearly out of fear that the audience would vie for some degree of
familiarity in the midst of the madness. It's also disappointing that George
Wendt, as the night's co-host of sorts, isn't really given much; despite being
deeply-embedded in the narrative, he's mostly relegated to straight roles that
don't let him key into his full comic potential. The best shots he gets are in
the episode's two disconnected, fail-safe sketches that don't tie into the
underlying theme, and while one is typical Franken/Davis nonsense
(a <i>Honeymooners</i> riff, except Ralph finally hits Alice—abuse
is funny!), the whale sketch is a delight, casting him as a fishmonger trying
to desperately to sell a whale that he was erroneously shipped. It's a perfect
blend of writers Andy Breckman and Jim Downey's writing talents, with moments of
deadpan and quiet sophistication nestled into the absurd conceit, and George
does a perfect job of selling his desperate pleas to customers to buy his
product: "What the kids don't eat, you can melt down for candles!" It's a
strange starting place for someone who would go onto become a recurring
presence in the next era of the show, but George contributes good work when
he's afforded the chance; I just wish he got more to do.
</p>
<p>
But ultimately, it's hard to begrudge the episode's select shortcomings by the
time we get to the grand finale, Coppola's grand tribute to live television.
Jon as Master Thespian rhapsodizes about the history of 8H before commencing a
phenomenal tracking shot through the entire studio while the band plays a
fanfare, with every cast member scattered across the sets giving a bow,
and it's a legitimately awe-inspiring moment; for however much this episode
keeps its tongue firmly in-cheek, the ending truly feels like a love letter to
the studio, so extravagant that it might as well be the last episode of the
show ever. But then, we cut to a bar that George has escaped to after quitting
the episode, and while he watches the grand finale on a small television
screen, all he can mutter is, "The horror... the horror..." It's barely a
funny capper—though Franken scores a laugh by smugly deadpanning, "How do you
think we feel? We're the producers"—but there's such a captivating, poignant
nature to it. As the credits roll, the cast celebrates with Francis while
George tries to hail a cab; in the meta-narrative of the episode, SNL has
triumphed, but at what cost?
</p>
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<p>
In a sense, that question stands. What does this episode mean for the rest of
this season? In a weird way... it could mean nothing. And that's not a strike
against it, though it's an interesting sort of observation. SNL is hurting, it
risks cancellation more than ever before, and even Lorne's presence can't
right the ship—so why not let a week spiral out so gloriously? (Even the
choice of musical guest was deeply inspired; Philip Glass and his orchestra
delivered some truly mind-meltingly gorgeous avant-garde performances, the
likes of which we will never see on the show again.) If the Wendt/Coppola
doesn't speak to anything in the long-term, though, perhaps it's best
considered as a reminder that SNL is still a magical show even at its worst,
that it can pull the most magnificent surprise out of nowhere, and that it
shouldn't ever be discounted no matter how dire things feel. Part of the
bittersweet beauty of this episode is that something like this will never
happen again, and that it could've only happened with this deep of a fracture
in SNL's identity, but that makes it all the more outstanding that it even
exists.
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A+.</b></p>
<p>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">Follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>! And support me on
<a href="https://www.patreon.com/mattalamode">Patreon</a> for only $3 a
month!</i>
</p>
<p>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">For more of my Vintage SNL coverage,
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/p/snl-review-directory.html">CLICK HERE</a>!</i>
</p>
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<p></p>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-48668827499800753402022-10-02T15:15:00.008-05:002023-10-15T01:04:02.528-05:00Saturday Night Live, Ranked and Reviewed: Season 10<p></p>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Hey, you! I know you! I know you!"</span></i></b></span>
</div>
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<p>
With the loss of Eddie Murphy, Ebersol found himself in a nerve-wracking
predicament. How could he maintain SNL as cool, appointment television
without one of the greatest stars the show ever had?
The solution: bring in some of the biggest names in comedy that he could and
hoping for the best. Do the additions of Billy Crystal, Martin Short,
Christopher Guest, Rich Hall, Harry Shearer, and Pamela Stephenson end
Ebersol's era on a high note, or does the spirit of the show get lost in the
shuffle?
</p>
</div>
<p>
For my reviews of the previous season, Season 9,
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">CLICK HERE</a>! Otherwise, it's time to wrap up the Ebersol era—let's roll.
</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/06/84: (no host) / Thompson Twins (S10E01)</b></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim0_a178bt8QQHNR3lCxOrA7uV31vL2WAA3j9wvxPedtj8xViAuohL-FDgwiH7zSLOkRI94NKpfu3qT4Bj38sTHHigV_uR0qGpQ-8WrocKnOMjYzWAZfDe8uNAjJ3MKBn3VxXZ-Ax8e4j_JZLuWMOspRS5g9ArxxrBbX33FP3e6DoQmAmM7m8sIIzN/s3840/Screenshot%20(20831).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim0_a178bt8QQHNR3lCxOrA7uV31vL2WAA3j9wvxPedtj8xViAuohL-FDgwiH7zSLOkRI94NKpfu3qT4Bj38sTHHigV_uR0qGpQ-8WrocKnOMjYzWAZfDe8uNAjJ3MKBn3VxXZ-Ax8e4j_JZLuWMOspRS5g9ArxxrBbX33FP3e6DoQmAmM7m8sIIzN/s16000/Screenshot%20(20831).png" width="518" /></a>
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<p>
Well, this episode certainly feels like a shock. After the past three seasons
have quietly inched forward with a few slick, carefully-integrated hires and
departures, Ebersol took a sharp turn, slimming the veterans of his era down
to the bare essentials and filling the empty seats with pre-established,
triple-A comedy talent. It's the bizarre pageantry of a self-proclaimed
numbers guy, less concerned with the show's longevity than its notability, and
as far as being a fight-or-flight response to the loss of his biggest stars,
it at least tracks with his character. The idea of having one big, bombastic
season of the show with absolutely zero long-term plans is still weird to
consider, though, and while that gives me a lot of excitement over the sort of
extravagance it entails—look at all of this amazing comedy talent, and also
Billy Crystal!—this premiere feels like a complicated summation of all of my
fears. It's a pretty great episode... but it's certainly got some broader
issues.
</p>
<p>
Beyond all the new faces, this episode also feels immediately unusual because
of how bizarrely it's organized. We start with a pretape, roll into eight
minutes of Billy Crystal standup (no immediate comment), don't hit the first
commercial break until literally 24 minutes in, and over half of the material
in the show is pre-recorded or has pre-recorded segments. Perhaps it's no
surprise that new hire Martin Short,
<a href="https://youtu.be/MIFILArfCIM">on a recent podcast</a>, recalled this
episode being a complete disaster at dress that had to be heavily retooled
into this strange final product. For all of its slickness, it feels like we're
no closer to understanding how well this arrangement will work, and in that
overwhelming uncertainty I was looking for anything that felt vaguely familiar
which, coincidentally, this episode also fails to find for the most part
either.
</p>
<p>
You'd think that Ebersol would lean on his veterans to help carry this episode
across, but that's the night's biggest weakness: he places all of his
confidence in his new talent, leaving everyone else to scrounge up whatever
screentime they can get despite being the most qualified to conduct the show.
The weird stratification of this season's cast members is already all too
clear; for all that the "newbies" get, they only ever seem to interact with
themselves 90% of the time. It's so bad that it almost feels like a shock to
see Jim Belushi's entrance into "First Draft Theater," as if he's walking into
an entirely different show; it creates an uneasy sort of convergence, even
though he slots perfectly well into the scene, because this episode treats the
new and returning cast members like oil and water.
</p>
<p>
Jim definitely fares the best of the returning class, a testament to the fact
that he's certainly Ebersol's most valuable hold-over. In addition to his
aforementioned role, he also scores a particularly fun pretape as a man who
shoves the entire contents of a janitor's closet down his pants in hopes of
enhancing his natural endowment and picking up some women at a bar. It's not
new for Jim—hell, this is basically just that "Shoplifting" sketch from last
season but more amorphously phallic—but it's the kind of thing that he sells
all the same with his Belushi charms, and the production value grants the idea
some scope. Everyone else struggles; Julia's three roles tonight are
introducing other cast members, while Gary's reward for submitting the great
"Needleman" sketch from the last season finale is getting to appear in the
musical guest introduction as Walter Mondale and make verbless cameos in the
pretapes. Poor Mary gets even less.
</p>
<p>
At their expense, the episode makes ample room for the season's new talent,
and all of them at least get some strong opportunities to shine in their
respective territories. Harry Shearer makes his short-lived return to the show
and shines with his meticulous characterizations in the pretapes, while Martin
Short shines as a physical performer, earning laughs merely by the ways that
he moves about and carries himself. (His Ed Grimley debut is one of the
night's most coherent live sketches, fueled by something of an adorable,
childish enthusiasm, and I look forward to how he continues to sculpt the
universe of the character.) Their pairing scores the night's most celebrated
piece, and rightfully so: "Synchronized Swimming" is nothing short of a goofy
triumph that finds both performers in their absolute prime, cast as two men
staking out their corner of the female-dominated world of synchronized
swimming. While Harry sets the scene and lends the idea realism, droning on
self-seriously in the way that a Harry Shearer does, it's Martin who goes in
for the kill as his naive, dumbly-smiling brother pitching in from time to
time ("I don't swim.") that really sends the piece over, as if the visual of
the two dancing to the <i>Indiana Jones</i> theme in a pool wasn't amazing
enough.
</p>
<p>
Rich Hall gets quite a bit less to do, and it feels like the show isn't quite
sure how to use him. He's a political comedian, to my knowledge, joining a
notoriously apolitical era of the show. His "Election Report" segment, finding
him trailing Walter Mondale around through various fundraising dinners in
Washington D.C., at least gives me hope that he'll be able to establish his
own little niche, however much his voice needs to be declawed. Pamela
Stephenson is, likewise, not a particularly known commodity by this point; for
as well as she slots into her sketches tonight, I'm not quite aware of what
her skillset or voice is as a performer. Out of everyone, though, Christopher
Guest emerges as the premiere's MVP. I was skeptical of his inclusion in
Season 10 because I didn't know much about him as a live performer, but he
acquits himself perfectly to a wide range of sketches and ultimately
demonstrates a stunning versatility that primes him as this season's most
promising new talent. There's not a second where he struggles with the format
of the show, playing his straight role in the Ed Grimley sketch perfectly
(hilarious boom mic gaff aside), threatening to steal "Synchronized Swimming"
from Martin and Harry as their flamboyant choreographer, and anchoring Andy
Breckman's latest "Book Beat" sketch spectacularly as a man with an iron pipe
through his head, slipping in and out of reality while attempting to interview
an author. My absolute favorite performance of his was in the aforementioned
"First Draft Theater" sketch opposite Pamela and Jim, playing a gritty noir
detective beholden to the lazy analogies and poor writing choices of his
author. A few choice quotes: "Los Angeles, how do you describe it? A big
city... with a Spanish name." "She had the kind of figure that made you wanna
have sex with her." And of course, "AIYEEEE, he's got a gun!"
</p>
<p>
Oh yeah, and Billy Crystal is also here. It's astonishing how well he connects
with the audience, especially given how much I found that he dragged the
episode down every time he resurfaced. I suppose that's something I'll have to
learn to reconcile with; he's an objectively good and comfortable live
performer, and that makes me hope that we'll get some stuff out of him that I
can enjoy, but his predilections for indulgent, mind-numbing material
(Fernando, or the interminable Howard Cosell sketch which I only survived
because his vocal impression is a dead ringer for John Mulaney) ensure that
he'll grant every episode this season at least <i>some</i> pause. It's just a
matter of how much...
</p>
<p>
In the end, this is a season premiere that does work, filled to the brim with
spectacles and successes, but at what cost? It's unclear how sustainable this
model for the show will be on a week-by-week basis, and for as promising as
some of the new hires are, the exclusion of those who've worked diligently to
keep the Ebersol years afloat all this time makes for a frustrating byproduct.
Hopefully the next few episodes will be able to strike more of a balance.
<i>(Penned 7/26/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/13/84: Bob Uecker / Peter Wolf (S10E02)</b>
</p>
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<p>
Welp, my concerns for the season have substantially magnified. Whereas the
premiere worked in spite of itself, this episode gets let down in every way I
feared the season could struggle. For all of the great talent on Ebersol's
hands, he can't just rely on them to carry the show through and make it
spectacular; they have ebbs and flows but get shoved to the front whether or
not they're at their best, all at the expense of the solid base of veterans
who he should be leaning more on. Subsequently, we end up with an episode like
this, stunted by cast imbalances, indulgence, and an overwhelming lethargy.
While I'll choose to accept it for the time being as a big fluke, I can't say
that having the second episode of the season be this poor is doing much to
fuel my hope.
</p>
<p>
Of course, I'd be remiss not to mention that part of the night's problems have
to do with Bob Uecker, who's simply not fit a fit host for SNL. I don't have
my doubts that he's a funny guy good for making witty, off-the-cuff remarks in
the realm of sports, and there's something satisfying about his voice, but
it's a conduit for extreme dryness that only gets exacerbated when he's forced
out of his comfort zone to do live sketch comedy. A sketch like the one where
he's a baseball manager trading his own son away like a player because of his
disappointing little league performance should work, and he's given some real
hard-hitting dialogue, but his energy is so low-key that nothing can snap into
place. There are definitely ways to work with someone as dry as he is, but
doing things like joining him in his monologue with Harry as Ronald Reagan and
proceeding to have the dry-off of the century only accomplishes the goal of
opening this live comedy show with a stretch of desert. His demeanor is only
channeled very successfully into one piece: "The Mamie Eisenhower Center For
The Dull," a pretape advertising a community center for the most mind-numbing
members of society that, at one point, inexplicably features him droning on
about the exact same things he featured in his monologue verbatim.
</p>
<p>
All of that strange lack of energy then serves to create a certain,
overwhelming deadness, the likes of which I haven't felt from the show in a
long, long time. Less than bringing to mind the struggles of Season 7 at its
most trying, this episode reminded me of Season 5: there's no shortage of
talent, but it's being deployed so listlessly that whatever excitement there
is to be had of the cast we get to watch loses its luster almost immediately.
I was under the impression that Ebersol organized his shows to put the best,
most satisfying material upfront, but strangely enough, his own idea of how to
organize a fool-proof running order explodes in his face; this episode is so
dull and so trying that even when it's gifted by legitimately fun material, it
fails to build any momentum. Maybe a part of that is, for instance, the fact
that it slams the episode's best piece against its absolute worst. "7x4" is
the latest Andy Breckman masterpiece, a mathematics-themed game show where
every contestant knows the answer and is so aggressively desperate to answer
it as fast as possible, much to the disdain of its beleaguered host (Gary!).
It's simple, succinct, and gifts this season's neglected veteran cast, as well
as the currently-underused Rich Hall, a chance to show just how much the show
still needs them. To follow that up immediately with the brutal "Negro
Baseball" sketch is to stare into the nightmarish abyss that is the worst this
season could offer: an eight minute long pretape casting Christopher and Billy
as old black baseball players, their faces caked in prosthetics and blackface
to a degree of queasy unrecognizability. Perhaps there is <i>something</i> to
it, and it touts some nice cameos from Yogi Berra and baseballer Dave
Winfield, but the whole piece is ill-conceited and interminable. Billy would
go on to
<a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/tv-movies/tv-movie-lists/my-favorite-saturday-night-live-sketch-119386/">declare it his favorite piece that he ever did at SNL</a>
and defend it on the ground that "times were different," to absolutely
nobody's surprise. Go to bed, Billy, it's late for you. Feh.
</p>
<p>
I barely wanna mention much of the other middling material because it's not
worth further consideration. The post-monologue sketch, a reunion tour of the
Rice Krispies mascot elves (Christopher, Billy, and Martin) who have since
gone on to live complicated adult lives, has a sound premise for some
goofiness, but the awkwardness of its construction holds it back; every time
it feels like it's perking up, it hits you with some real hacky shit (one of
them has a child wife, one of them almost being replaced by a black elf named
"Thud") that immediately stomps out whatever fun was starting to percolate.
There's also a piece where Martin's higher-up tries to console Harry's Tom
Brokaw about his speech impediment, an idea that's cute for a few minutes but
which ends up being executed in such a droll manner that even the audience
stops giving it anything after a certain point. The back-half offered a few
fun little things, like the sketch where Christopher outsmarts a lost and
found by tricking Bob's police officer into giving him nebulously-described
valuables or the silly ad for freshly-squeezed baseball juice, but they're the
sort of things that should make for respectable B-material in an episode and
not the top-shelf product.
</p>
<p>
How much more is there to say about this one that hasn't already been said?
Even someone as risk-averse as Ebersol couldn't stop it from feeling like an
overwrought disaster. All I can say is that while I'll approach the next few
episodes with an expectation that the show will take some time to finetune, I
hope that they'll at least resemble last week more than this one. TL;DR:
Uecker's was yuckers. <i>(Penned 7/27/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: D+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/20/84: The Reverend Jesse Jackson / Andrae Crouch and Wintley Phipps
(S10E03)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I gotta be honest: after that "Negro Baseball" sketch last week, I was
absolutely terrified that the next episode would be hosted by a predominant
black politician; it risks serving to hammer in <i>just</i> how bad it is that
there are absolutely no black people in the cast or writer's room. While I'm
no less sold on Season 10's ability to sustain itself or be good by its own
merits, though, this is an incredibly solid episode, in no small part due to
Jesse. That's not to dismiss whatever material this week submitted—even in
Jesse's absence, the material feels far more energetic—but there really is a
sense that the show had to work to get at his level. Considering how much of a
goddamn mayonnaise sandwich this season is, it's miraculous that endeavor even
paid off at all.
</p>
<p>
In a lot of ways, Jesse reminds me of his colleague and fellow unlikely SNL
host, Julian Bond. Both are clearly people unaccustomed to the live comedy
format, but they acquit themselves remarkably well to the process and,
indebted to their viewpoints, give the show a unique identity. The one key
difference between the two is how much Julian was willing to play characters
and indulge in the show's cruder, more irreverent whims (recall the famous
sketch where he criticizes Garrett's intelligence as a darker-skinned man,
<a href="https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/tv/tv-news/snl-civil-rights-leader-julian-671054/">even if he would later rebuke his involvement</a>). Jesse, on the other hand, is completely uncompromising, and while that
sort of staunchness has led to rather difficult outings from the show, his
presence is one which SNL is wise to amplify. A sketch like "The Question is
Moot" feels like it shouldn't work, arising from Jesse's stipulation that at
least one piece in the show allowed him to espouse his political views, yet it
ends up being the night's most memorable and fun sketch. Perhaps some of that
has to do with the magic touch Andy Breckman (co-writing with Martin Short,
surprisingly) lends the piece, but it's Jesse who carries it, hosting a quiz
show where he cuts off all of the contestant's answers by repeatedly declaring
"The question is moot!" and spiraling into impassioned anti-Reagan rants.
Throw in a few more great little moments that further deconstruct Jesse's
aversion to questions ("Who gets the car?" "<i>I</i> get the car!" "Why?" "The
question is moot!") and you've got a surprisingly fiery little piece.
</p>
<p>
Jesse's uncompromising voice also yields one of the episode's most compelling
moments: a straight-to-camera address criticizing the show for its lack of
black cast or staff members. It's not uproariously funny but it feels
remarkably scathing, most certainly addressing a topic that he wanted to
champion, and the fact that Jesse lures the elusive Dick Ebersol directly in
front of the camera while poking holes in his operation makes it even more
shocking that the show allowed itself to be so deeply criticized. Although
Jesse lets the show make fun of its overwhelming lack of diversity throughout
the night—most famously, his monologue features a behind-the-scenes segment
where all the white control room operators scurry out, replaced by black
equivalents when Jesse approaches—it feels raw for the show, in any era, to
not even wink at its problems so much as own up to them. It's no big surprise
that the segment would end up being removed from all repeat airings.
</p>
<p>
Elsewhere, Jesse helps the show maintain a shockingly pointed tone that feels
as atypical as it does gratifying for Ebersol's politics-averse era. Perhaps
most excitingly, Jesse anchors an iteration of Saturday Night News that
<i>actually works</i>, superseding the usual watery material with sharp barbs
at Reagan while maintaining a thoughtful, playful tone. Both guest
correspondents feel especially worthwhile, too; one casts Martin as a young
Republican attempting to fill equal time demands before breaking down in
cowardly tears as Jesse looms over him, while the usually cringeworthy Rappin'
Jimmy B has his best possible outing, getting shut down by Jesse while Jim
gets rightfully served for his cultural appropriation. (Whatever nastiness
there might be to that self-reflection is also washed down nicely by just how
much Jim beams at Jesse's rebuttal rap. It's cute!) I suppose it's no great
surprise that the segment of the show that caters most to Jesse's abilities as
a public speaker would be a high point for the show, but really, seeing any
SNN installment that works feels surreal.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the show keeps pace with Jesse's energetic presence, even if the
material he doesn't pilot is the usual, apolitical fare. The debut of Willie
and Frankie is the necessary proof I've needed that Billy can work this
season, partnering him with Christopher as they exchange nonchalant
pleasantries about their disturbing, masochistic tendencies. It's the rare
sketch whose recurring status excites me; this first installment has an
enjoyable, low-key undercurrent that makes its dark humor jump out at you, and
I look forward to seeing how much more twisted these get. (There's also
another Billy sketch that works, casting him as a jokester who repeatedly
alternates between melodramatically telling Jim and Pamela that their child
died and admitting he's busting their chops, though the greatest delight is
just seeing Jim shoot him point-blank as atonement.) Meanwhile, Rich gets
another great, brief pretape that further demonstrates his deadpan, absurdist
abilities—a PSA about children eating refrigerator magnets, and the warning
signs to keep an eye out for (a tendency to point towards the north, or the
hassle of getting stuck to a delivery truck)—and Martin gets to do another
silly Ed Grimley piece aboard an airplane, devolving into a
<i>Twilight Zone</i> riff as he runs up and down the aisle, ranting, raving,
and wildly gesticulating as an Ed Grimley does.
</p>
<p>
The episode starts to become a bit more disorganized in its second half,
giving way to a series of shorter, looser segments, but the energy never
falters, nor does the material miss. As a whole, this is a remarkably solid
outing of the show, and Jesse gives things the extra kick they need. Here's
hoping that even without as defiant of an anchor, this season will be able to
chart some upwards momentum; if nothing else, this episode proves that the
cast is capable of true success. <i>(Penned 8/02/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+. </b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/03/84: Michael McKean / Chaka Khan (S10E04)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It feels bizarre, given how much the show has been passed over to
inexperienced live performers who might need some basic accommodation, that
it's taken the season a full month for there to be a host who naturally clicks
with the show's format. All of the past three episodes have failed to really
point towards what an episode this season will look like: the premiere was a
last-minute save following a horrible dress rehearsal, Bob Uecker's episode
was horrible, and Jesse Jackson's episode, as great as it was, felt like a
massive anomaly. With this Michael McKean episode, I feel like I can finally
get a glimpse at how this version of the show looks with things at full
operation, and rather delightfully, it's a pretty solid outing!
</p>
<p>
I'd be remiss to mention, of course, that Michael is more than just a merely
competent host. He's someone with a compelling, personal history with both
Harry and Christopher, and in spite of his sitcom success, he's a cult comedy
figure with a distinguished pedigree. It feels like we perhaps don't see as
much of him as we should, but his status does offer him some rousing little
opportunities that wouldn't befall most other hosts. Perhaps most famously, he
teams up with his two buddies and forms a Spinal Tap-esque folk trio,
The Folksmen; while they would flourish in a film two decades later, their
introduction here is as meticulous and filled with subtle, hilarious little
details as their work always is. (My biggest laugh of the night was probably
Christopher, with his ridiculous wig and froggy affectation, disclosing that
he would wake up wrenching and screaming every night over the death of folk
music.) Culminating their little "reunion" pretape with a full-fledged
performance of "Old Joe's Place" in front of the SNL audience, too, is such a
blast, and while there's no immediately obvious joke to it, the pastiche is
both silly and remarkably well-performed—a clear labor of love.
</p>
<p>
Michael doesn't get any other real spotlight moments, though he slots himself
in well with the cast to a degree that it's kind of easy to forget that he's
the night's host. (Maybe it's not surprising that he'd eventually become a
full-fledged SNL cast member several years later. Gotta be a great time,
right!?) Either way, too, it feels like his presence offers the show a bit
more ease and confidence, and all of the material has a fun sense of spirit
compared to some of the the more strained output of previous weeks. A sketch
like Billy and Martin's rabbi piece feels like the perfect example of that; it
really shouldn't work, just as any Billy sketch shouldn't work, but the thrill
of watching two comedy professionals playing at the top of their game with
some sharp, absurdist writing to support them makes it feel like a thrill.
While Billy scores all the biggest laughs as a confounding rabbi who gives
Martin advice to kill his wife for her infidelity, brandishing a customized
version of the Bible that insists that all of Earth is just God's dream ("He
dreams, we suffer. For all we know, WWII might've been just something he ate
that didn't agree with him! A bad piece of fish!"), Martin is just as good,
maybe even more compelling, as the straight man who can do little more than
give Billy a perplexed, thousand-yard stare.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the material delights, or if nothing else intrigues. Our second
installment of "First Draft Theater" isn't as great as the first, but I love
how it ups the ante by having the manuscript of Twelve Angry Men become
increasingly incoherent as its writer gets further into a bottle of booze.
More escalation could've come out of that solid premise, but it's a fine
little exercise in absurdity with some good surprises and a worthy enough
successor. Fernando also makes his spectacular return to the show after a
delightful, two-episode reprieve with the debut of "Fernando's Hideaway," but
against all odds, it's a pretty fun debut. While Billy is as annoying as
usual, he's smart to cede all of the real humor to the random cameraman he's
interviewing under the guise of being a last-minute replacement for Barry
Manilow; while these segments will probably seldom work as well as this first
one, I think sidelining Fernando in favor of a bizarre guest could result in
some more solid installments in the future and I'll be cautiously optimistic.
It was probably Rich's gloriously stupid SNL Fashion Report as David Byrne,
though, twitching around in the singer's trademark massive suit while
screeching about whether or not he got a bad deal on his outfit, that gave me
the most joy. Rich is no impressionist, but I love the weird little corner
he's holding down in this season's cast as a deadpan goofball; if Ebersol's
gonna water down his political comedy output, it's a pretty damn good
alternative.
</p>
<p>
Apropos of Rich's minimization, there's also some surprising political bite
here for an Ebersol episode (weird saying that for the second episode in a
row, I know), though I suppose this is the episode right before Reagan's
overwhelming victory over Mondale which even Ebersol can't really neglect.
Maybe it's also indicative of the return of Jim Downey to the show's writer's
room, or the presence of someone as archly political as Harry; both submit
interesting pieces, even if they're perhaps more thoughtful than
chuckle-worthy. Jim contributes this episode's big Mondale piece, with Gary's
impression of the doomed presidential candidate being coached by his staffers
on their tireless plan to secure Minnesota and Minnesota alone, and while
there's a certain flatness, Gary's performance (at once both pathetic and
ebullient, truly a Kroeger specialty) and a few choice turns (at one point,
some Reagan campaigners ask if Mondale will vote for Reagan to ensure a
unanimous victory) keep it together. Meanwhile, Harry claws at Reagan more
ferociously than we've seen from the show in years, playing the president and
giving an address about how he wants to bring prayers back to schools while
antagonizing little kids who disagreed with blackmail and armbands. One has to
wonder how Harry was able to push such a nasty little piece past his boss,
though it's also another reminder of how unsurprising it is that he'd depart
halfway through the season for creative differences.
</p>
<p>
The only things that don't really work in this episode at all feel short and
quick, to their credit, though Saturday Night News does its darnedest to sink
this episode to the point of no return. (How could they do Edwin Newman like
this after all his great service to the show, relegating him to reading
fictitious state songs for four minutes?) Fortunately, the episode jumps back,
relatively unscathed, and some kick-ass performances from Chaka Khan keep the
ball rolling. This episode is the standard that this season should be striving
for, and I hope that it can serve as a model and not just an exception to the
rule. <i>(Penned 8/03/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/10/84: George Carlin / Frankie Goes To Hollywood (S10E05)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
What a power move this episode is. I've been looking forward to seeing this
episode for the longest time for a fairly obvious reason: George Carlin, as
the first ever host of <i>Saturday Night Live</i>, is permanently baked into
the show's history, even if ironically enough he's more of a feature of the
pilot than a host. (He was also apparently "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Z1t1pnSlb8">full of cocaine</a>" per his own assessment and denied being in sketches because he feared
stepping outside of his comfort zone.) To see him back now, riding the next
wave of his popularity and being a more active participant in the show, is an
exciting proposition. For a show where hype so often serves as a death knell,
I gotta give it to Ebersol, too, that this episode is absolutely delightful.
</p>
<p>
I can never be too sure what the secret ingredient is to this season's
success, because it always sort of feels like the show could drop the ball at
any moment. Season 10 has the appearance of a well-oiled machine, but the cast
is so incoherent and perpetually at risk of being squandered or exploited that
a solid outcome doesn't feel like a real guarantee. Nevertheless, there's a
sense here that the show wants to give George a second chance at hosting a
proper, solid episode of SNL, and he certainly gets it; he's
<i>all over this episode</i> and always doing a damned good job. While his
monologue frames him as a jaded, indignant truth-teller—the Carlin I'm more
familiar with, and less into—he approaches most of his sketch roles tonight
with a shocking humility, always grounding himself in the scenes in
surprisingly endearing ways. A sketch as simple as "Ted's Book of World
Records" feels unassuming, casting George as a random guy who's compiled a
book of all of his personal "world" records, but it's the fact that George
imbues his character with an adorable oddball energy that makes the piece
really excel; he's just so goddamn sweet as he shares all of his mundane,
non-informational factoids, and it makes me smile. (Most eggs ever eaten in
one sitting: "Two! I'm not much on breakfast!" Most rattlesnakes ever milked:
"None!") There's a similar earnestness he gives to the cop family sketch,
portraying a cop who has to reconcile with his son Billy's ineptitude at
trying to carry the family tradition. It's another Nate Herman sketch chock
full of bizarre, wordy flourishes, but unlike his contributions last season
("Boy's Life On the Mississippi"; "How High The Noon"), it aims for a more
slice-of-life angle and gives both actors a chance to deploy some legitimate,
dramatic chops. It's a bit slow but it has a story to tell, and it tells that
story with surprising sweetness in spite of its gut-busting final punchline.
</p>
<p>
In terms of the episode itself, I also loved how much variety it felt like we
got, both in cast utilization and in the medley of differing tones across the
night's material. Whereas one of my main issues with the preceding Michael
McKean episode was how much it seemed to minimize the show's veteran cast
members (a difficulty all the more felt by Jim's complete absence), this
episode feels like it strikes a satisfying balance. Gary gets to helm the cold
open, a delightfully meta piece where he rants about how much of a waste it
was to spend the summer perfecting his impression of Walter Mondale ("Mister
13 Electoral Votes!"), as well as starring alongside Julia in the sharp fake
ad for a radar, missile-shooting contraceptive; meanwhile, Julia and Mary
imbue life into the debuts of Chi-Chi and Consuela, a hacky bit that they're
able to shine through all the same with some good lines ("<i>[Ghostbusters]</i>
made Chi-Chi cry." "A card trick could make me cry..."), however much I wish
they could be served better. Jim gets the episode's greatest highlight,
though, and another spectacular highlight for Ebersol's pretape department as
a violently-determined high school chess coach who treats the game like it's a
nail-biting athletic competition. Jim's wheelhouse may veer limited at times,
but he finds the exact right way to use his abilities; his performance is both
manic at all the right moments, screaming and kicking chairs over poor chess
moves, and refreshingly human.
</p>
<p>
Ebersol's A-team submits some surprising gems as well, despite some early
reservations. "The Joe Franklin Show" on-paper should be my worst nightmare,
presenting Billy a chance to do his hyper-specific idea of what comedy should
be while deploying an incredibly esoteric impression, but the sketch works
perfectly all the same. Billy's at his best when he gets to play more low-key
and cede laughs to his scene partners, and both of his traits enable the
piece's success: Martin gets to debut his loopy Jackie Rogers Jr. impression,
Christopher gets good laughs as a ventriloquist very particular about his
puppet's Castilian accent, and George walks away with the sketch as a quietly
befuddled fireman who's just trying his best to make sense of the oddities
he's surrounded by. (Seriously, George is <i>so</i> good in this episode.) The
later, Harry-led "In Thickeness And In Health" sketch flashed similar,
overly-specific warning signs, but the introduction of Martin as his
curmudgeonly Irving Cohen character causes the sketch to shoot into the
stratosphere. I swear, Martin is one of the absolute funniest people to ever
exist, and watching him struggle against a treadmill like some sort of human
ragdoll while puffing a cigar in his mouth is the kind of thing you have to
see to believe. (There's also another installment of Willie and Frankie, even
better than the first. I wonder at what point I'm gonna turn on these sketches
but I hope I never do.)
</p>
<p>
As I mentioned a bit above, all of these different sketches go together
perfectly, creating a night full of variation, sometimes preposterous and
sometimes restrained. It's the sort of breadth that makes even the night's
weakest material (George as a Revolutionary War-era stand-up telling slight,
period-specific jokes) feel like it's part of something bigger. That's the
sort of vibe I love the most from these early SNL episodes, and against all
odds, in an era so frequently insistent on following the easiest path to
victory up top before dying painful deaths in the back-half, this feels like a
quintessential example of how great that variety can be.
<i>(Penned 8/04/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/17/84: Ed Asner / The Kinks (S10E06)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Good god is this season on a roll! I went into Season 10 with a lot of fears,
and while I don't wanna discount the risk that it could slip at any moment,
it's astonishing just how well things have gone; barring Uecker's episode,
which now feels like an uncharacteristic misstep, this might be one of my
favorite stretches of SNL episodes in all of the show's history. Perhaps it
won't last much longer, but Ed Asner's hosting gig is a splendid continuation
of that upwards trend.
</p>
<p>
As with last week, in addition to being tied together by a very strong host,
this episode feels perpetually inspired, and everyone (aside from Billy, but
alas) brings their A-game to some truly compelling, original material. Hell,
for an era so reliant on beating material intro the ground, there's only one
retread sketch in this episode, the famous Ed Grimley Thanksgiving sketch, and
even then it teems with as much originality as it can. These pieces are
recurring sketches done right, each new installment continuing to craft the
strange word of Grimley's character—this time, a glance into his
homelife—while thrusting him into stranger and stranger circumstances. Of
course Grimley gets entertainment from watching his neighbors with a
telescope, equal parts voyeuristic and childish, and having the low-key nature
of the scenario <i>immediately intensify</i> as he bears witness to his
neighbor (Asner) strangling his wife is the perfect launching point for Ed to
anxiously rant and rave and bounce around. (Christopher coming in as Grimley's
similarly-personified father and saving him from Asner's attempt to murder
him, too, is a perfect, goofy button.)
</p>
<p>
Elsewhere, the material veers into deeply conceptual, rewarding territory.
Rich anchors (and co-writes) Andy Breckman's latest masterpiece, "Walking
After Midnight," casting him as a glum, overworked grocery store employee who
discovers the automatic door mat at the grocery store possesses magical powers
to open anything within its vicinity. It's a fantastic piece, charmingly
imaginative and teeming with wild possibilities in the way that Breckman does
best, and having the piece take a turn as Rich harnesses his insane powers to
get sweet vengeance against his shitty boss (Jim) allows the piece to pivot
towards a swift and satisfying finale. Meanwhile, while Billy secures a
merciless dead spot in the middle of the episode with his godawful one-man
show bit, he finds yet another solid partnership with Christopher in the
<i>60 Minutes</i> sketch as two proud novelty gag business owners being
interviewed by Harry's Mike Wallace, decrying the cheap Chinese knock-offs of
their products. I don't know what it is about Christopher who can tap into
Billy's best impulses as a performer but they're a perfect pair here, all
simpering and smug. It's Martin's debut of his great Nathan Thurm character,
though, nervously sweating, stuttering, and puffing a cigarette as Harry
questions him about the incriminating knock-off company he's trapped having to
defend, which shines the brightest. ("Is it me? It's him, right?", he pleads
with the camera.)
</p>
<p>
While it's no surprise that Ebersol's most valued performers get some solid
work, it's a wonderful surprise that some of the season's most neglected cast
members walk away with some great highlights, too. Unfortunate facepaint
aside, the "Me and Julio" sketch gives Gary a fun, energetic showcase as Julio
Iglesias, running across the stage and maintaining several improbable duets at
the same time, and he joins Julia and Rich for the clever "You Can't Put Too
Much" sketch as nuclear technicians who struggle to interpret their retired
boss' semantically-confounding advice. Best of all, the perpetually-misused
Mary has one of the best nights of her tenure, trotting back her great Mary
Tyler Moore impression for the crowd-pleasing cold open (a fun time, even if
I'm largely out of the loop there) and scoring a particularly touching 10-to-1
as Wendy opposite of Ed's aged Peter Pan. While Ed has largely folded into the
show as a consummate professional, he's at the top of his game here, trapped
between his boyish, nostalgic yearnings for Wendy and the despair of his
advanced aging; moments like him talking about Tinkerbell's death could easily
play for shock, but the low-key nature of the piece and Mary's flawless
dramatic acting work give it more of a pitiful, bittersweet edge that ends the
episode in an affecting place. (Also: <i>Billy Crystal</i> wrote that sketch??
Credit where credit's due.)
</p>
<p>
There are still some issues with the season that feel like they could use
finessing—Harry, once again, is almost entirely shut out of the episode, and
the divide between Ebersol's A and B-team still feels too wide for the cast to
feel like a proper collective—but all in all, this episode is another home
run. There's always a lot to contend with this season, but the fact that it's
conjured up some of the best material and episodes of Ebersol's entire run
certainly speaks to <i>something</i>. <i>(Penned 8/15/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/01/84: Ed Begley Jr. / Billy Squier (S10E07)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
By the time this episode threw me its second rerun pretape, it felt like it
was official: the streak of great episodes this season, sadly, has come to an
end. I suppose it's no great surprise that the insane momentum we've had
lately would prove hard to maintain. That's not to say this is a bad episode,
but it feels like an episode where the show is finally starting to settle into
a slightly less audacious state. Perhaps it's on the search for a bit more
sustainability, or perhaps it's something else entirely; there's a strange,
slightly-dead energy to the episode whose exact origin feels a bit difficult
to grasp, and it's an energy that eludes some of the more obvious culprits for
weakness. Let's just chalk it up to an off week rather than active fatigue, as
well as a few poor choices.
</p>
<p>
Ed Begley, Jr., to his credit, is not one of the episode's issues. Even though
I wasn't as confident in his hosting abilities going in as a lot of other
hosts we've had this season, he definitely feels on-par with them; there's a
playfulness and gameness which he exudes that helps hold this episode together
even when it threatens to explode into a string of loose ends. His monologue,
which is packed full of random odds and ends—roller-skating, riffing on Mr.
Rogers, doing a frenzied <i>St. Elsewhere</i> retake, and removing the
"Jr." from his name—is a big testament to his watchability. When he's given
strong material, too, he doesn't fail the show, and occasionally he even feels
like a key to its success. My favorite piece cast him as Death, knocking on
the door of Martin's choking victim before being challenged to a game of
chance for Martin's life—Trivial Pursuit. It's a writerly premise packed with
great little details (he refuses to play chess to bargain for his victim's
lives because "We've been trying to kill Bobby Fischer for 12 years now"), and
his characterization of Death, at once both grim and casual, helps the sketch
maintain its humorously low-key feel and tell more of a story than most.
</p>
<p>
As with a lot of other episodes this season, though, Ed isn't really placed at
the forefront as much as the cast is, so I'd like to take the moment to
examine how S10's cast dynamics have solidified. Perhaps most notably, it
feels like a testament to how hard-working Billy is (as well as the favoritism
towards him) that you can see his fingerprints in three of the night's
sketches, all to varying degrees of effectiveness. While we don't get anything
as aggressively indulgent as last week's one-man show monologue, we do get
"Kate and Ali," letting him do his Muhammad Ali impression against Martin's
Katherine Hepburn for the sake of a strange pun; their second team-up for the
vaudeville funeral bit further serves to solidify that Martin is an immensely
watchable sketch virtuoso, while Billy is only as good as the material is. He
does score a great little piece with Jim, though, casting them as two old pals
stuck in the vicious loop of trying to figure out what to do with their night
that's seemingly defined their entire relationship. As with the Death sketch,
it's a conceptual piece whose greatest strength is its nonchalant approach to
absurdity; Billy's suggestions start strange and become stranger (e.g.
becoming masters of space and time through initiation into shamanistic rights)
while Jim hesitates at the impracticality of his pitches more than their
insanity ("Nah, I don't think I can leave my mom that long...").
</p>
<p>
While Billy and Martin bask in the spotlight, though, others wilt. Most
tragically, this episode marks the start of Christopher's infamously
disappointing tenure as the new, permanent anchor of SNN. I love Christopher
as a character actor, and there's no denying that he's a brilliant comedic
mind, but he also strikes me as someone ill at ease with the prospect of being
himself in front of camera. Subsequently, <i>everything</i> about putting him
at the news desk feels like a horrid misuse of his abilities, and his deadpan,
despite being a great asset, takes all of the already-lousy jokes and makes
whatever comedy they were supposed to have feel imperceptible. It's baffling
to me that Ebersol would land on him instead of people like Rich or Pamela,
who literally left <i>news parody shows</i> to be on SNL, though I'd also say
Gary could've been a strong contender, too. Of course, Gary probably wasn't
even on Ebersol's mind, and indeed never is; his screentime this episode is as
frustratingly invisible as usual, yet he emerges as the second most victorious
member of Ebersol's "B-squad" after Jim. Mary and Julia, meanwhile, toil away
in another hacky Chi-Chi and Consuela sketch, as if the earlier sketch where
Julia is sexually-harassed by a time traveler wasn't a big enough reminder
that Ebersol has no idea what to do with his female cast.
</p>
<p>
All of that brings the episode to its 10-to-1, one of the most notorious
pieces of the entire season: Larry David's sole sketch contribution as a
writer to make it into a live show, casting Ed as an architect who gets in a
fight with a property owner (Harry) about the elevator stool he's drawn into
his blueprint. It's a great little bit of cerebral, escalating
weirdness—starting from a place of confusion and ending with the two wrestling
on the ground and telling one another to "go to hell!"—and while it's no
forgotten classic, it's a fun glimmer into the mind of someone who's clearly
found himself in the wrong room for his sort of ideas. Ebersol's relationship
with Larry was famously acrimonious, but the fact that this idea (among others
that Ebersol rejected) would go on to fuel a beloved <i>Seinfeld</i>
episode, despite being met with curious silence from the studio audience, is a
reminder that for all of the brilliant successes of Ebersol's reign, there's
at least twice as much squandered potential.
</p>
<p>
Honestly, that vibe feels like it persists throughout the episode in a rather
unfortunate way. Even the sketches I highlighted as successes, all more heady
and conceptual than Ebersol's usual fare, were marred by how little the
audience responded. It's a shame, because even if this episode doesn't
flourish, it does a lot of things I really respect and admire... most of which
Ebersol would probably interpret as a failure. As we approach the halfway
point for the season, it'll be interesting to see how S10 continues to
develop, and ultimately, whether SNL will lean more on repetitive audience
favorites or continue to broaden its horizons. One hopes for the latter, but I
fear for the former. <i>(Penned 8/08/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/08/84: Ringo Starr / Herbie Hancock (S10E08)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Goddammit, they wasted a Beatle. And not just any Beatle, either! How does
someone waste Ringo? He attracts the most slack as "the worst Beatle," sure,
but against all odds, he also has the greatest comedy pedigree; he's no
stranger to the world of acting, and he has a strange, dopey sort of charm
that feels borderline infallible. Unsurprisingly, whenever Ringo is allowed to
deploy his charms, the episode works, but too often it drags him into the
back, if he's onstage at all, and the tragic result is a painfully rough
episode in sore need of inspiration. There's a reason for this, of course; by
all accounts, everyone was so fatigued from the past two months of hard work
that by this week's tepid read-through, Ebersol forced them to scrap all of
their material, dredge up the recurring fare (recency be damned), and build an
entirely new show. I don't wanna do too much to vilify the way Ebersol runs
SNL, but it's telling that he recalls this episode being "pretty good" while
it came across to me like a mix of some of my greatest fears for the season:
the same characters ad nauseum, a strange mix of lethargy and indulgence, and
some hacky junk to fill in the cracks.
</p>
<p>
At the very least, the episode starts in an alright place, front-loading with
material that Ebersol had a wise level of confidence in. Ringo's put to good
use in the cold open, even if all he has to do is be wheeled out and silently
stand onstage at a Beatles memorabilia auction as the bidders slowly start to
leave the room in disinterest; a later sketch follows up on how his life has
gone post-auction, taking up residence with Pamela and a very beleaguered Jim,
his daily activities now largely consisting of popping bubble wrap and rocking
out to the
<i>Jeffersons</i> theme song. They're pretty unelaborate pieces, but Ringo has
an endearing presence onstage that the show, in those instances, finds the
exact right way to deploy. He's put to work a bit more in this week's Ed
Grimley sketch, casting him as an unlucky man most accustomed to random
lightning strikes, and it works out alright, too; it takes a strange character
to match Ed, and he lends his role the exact deadpan it needs to counteract
Ed's hyperactive cheerfulness. (There's a brilliant bit of physical comedy
after Martin holds Ringo's hand to feel a lightning strike, convulsing and
flailing about bizarrely as he tries to shake the electricity out of his
system.) We also get some more Sammy, duetting tunes with Ringo, and some more
Willie and Frankie, perpetually hurting. Both are as they've always been.
</p>
<p>
Things start to drop off of pretty damn quickly, though, as the fatigue rolls
in; if it wasn't for how actively frustrating a lot of the material feels, it
could easily put you to sleep. Harry reprises his bone-dry Richard Blackwell
impression for some public access weirdness, though Harry's intense
specificity feels as indecipherable to me as usual, and the focus it lends to
the debut of Christopher's brownface Rajeev Vindaloo character, chirping
sassily about cheap wine, is even more of a drag. The journey across the globe
continues into the next terrible sketch, granting Billy (and sadly Gary) some
horrifying Japanese caricatures that immediately take whatever vague promise
the sketch has—something about using reverse psychology on imprisoned British
soldiers?—and render it completely intolerable. (Billy randomly breaking out
into "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah" from <i>Song of the South</i> in the middle of
it all is one too many flavors of "oh, fuck off" for a single sketch to have.)
The night rounds itself out with the second "Fernando's Hideaway" sketch,
which feels like our first look at how they'll usually play out —pretty
boringly, and with twelve utterances of "Mahvelous"—and the final sketch about
Jim being called out as a draft-dodger during his job interview, despite being
something of a reprieve from the hackiness of the past half hour, is a
dead-on-arrival capper to this gassed-out night. Jim and Christopher are in
decent form and doing their thing, but the writing fails to connect, and the
fact that it randomly ends with Christopher calling up a woman to his office
to sexually harass ends the episode with a horrible taste in your mouth.
</p>
<p>
As the triumphant hosting return of Eddie looms near, it feels like Season 10
has hit a strange point where all of its issues have caught up to it. It's
depleted its well of brilliant pretapes, Billy's negatively affecting the show
with his dominance, and behind-the-scenes hostility is splitting the cast and
writer's room. (Hell, right after this episode, Ebersol would briefly fire Jim
for his out-of-control, impulsive behavior.) The wear and tear is finally
beginning to show, and while I'm sure Eddie will hold the next episode
together by the power of his charisma, I wonder how much the season can heal
and mend itself as it rolls into its second half... or if the prospects of
healing are simply untenable for the model that SNL is currently using. Only
time will tell. All I know for now is that Ringo deserved far, far better than
this. <i>(Penned 8/09/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/15/84: Eddie Murphy / The Honeydrippers (S10E09)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It's strange how familiar this episode feels. Even though I'm just coming out
of watching the full show for the second time (I watch episodes twice for most
of my reviews), it feels like an episode I've already seen countless times
throughout my life. The familiarity isn't really a benefit, nor a slight; it
just leaves the episode occupying a strange space between "something we've
seen before" and "the epitome", its greatest moments certainly earning their
place in our collective memories and its lesser moments at least feeling
amicable enough that they leave us happy. It's not as bombastic as one might
hope, but bringing Eddie Murphy back to SNL at the height of his powers is an
exciting affair, and the episode delivers about as frequently as it placates.
</p>
<p>
Of course, this episode's legacy is inseparable from its greatest segment, but
when you have a sketch like "White Like Me," how could it ever go any other
way? It's a sketch so classic that it could never really feel new to me, but
it's so goddamn great and timelessly incisive that it manages to transcend its
recognizability and endure, decades later, as one of the greatest comedy
sketches of all time. Eddie's preposterous white guy caricature, Mr. White, is
a visual that'll never stop being funny no matter how many crude imitators
tried to dethrone it; even Eddie himself could never put on enough make-up,
however hard he tries, to surpass the simple joy of his tight-butted walk or
his stone-faced incomprehension of being gifted a newspaper for free. (While
the crescendo of the sketch will always be Eddie's light-hearted delivery of
"What a silly Negro!" to a white loan officer who shoos away his black
co-worker for questioning Eddie's intentions of randomly borrowing $50,000
from a bank, Jim Downey's perfectly dry delivery of "Go ahead, take it. Take
it." is the quote that lives rent-free in my brain.) Elsewhere, the
Christmas-themed Mister Robinson's sketch from this episode has gone on to
become perhaps the most famous installment of the sketch in modern times due
to its inclusions in holiday specials, though it mostly just delivers the same
reliable sketch beats without taking the basic conceit to a new place. The
short "Black History Minute" also makes its rounds, and it works better if not
simply for the spectacle of Eddie fumbling his lines and chastising the
audience for delighting in his sloppiness. (After a woman in the audience
repeats one of his mistakes to herself—"soul/soil"—he instantly quips, "So I
messed up! SHUT IT!", proving that charisma flows out of Eddie even when he's
barely trying.)
</p>
<p>
Aside from those obvious, predictable highlights, there were two other things
I was particularly interested in with regards to this episode: seeing Eddie's
interactions with the new cast, and seeing him working with the players from
his own era again. While we sadly don't see as much of the latter as the
former—another reminder of the bizarre chasm that separates the two
groups—they get their nice moments in the spotlight, and Eddie's more
plentiful contributions with the new cast feel fairly novel all the same.
Rather than standing alongside Piscopo as the obvious star when he was a cast
member, he's just another hard-hitter amongst a star-studded ensemble, which
lets him feel like more of a team player in their midst. With that being said,
the results aren't always the greatest. This episode's Gumby sketch is one I
wish I could've liked more, constructing a cinematic universe for all of this
season's Jewish characters—Lew Golden, Irving Cohen, and a new addition from
Christopher—to intersect with Gumby, but the end result feels indulgent and
meandering with only the occasional bursts of energy (Gumby's argument with
Rich, Irving's bizarre showtunes) renewing my attention. "Milestones" is a
little better, casting Eddie as Desmond Tutu opposite of Rich's Doug Flutie,
but the fun idea of the show's host (Christopher) trying to distract Doug as
Desmond frantically tries repairing Doug's broken Heisman trophy doesn't have
enough escalation or drive, solid ending aside.
</p>
<p>
Comparatively, there's only one time where Eddie's really going toe-to-toe
with one of his old friends, but it's also one of the episode's better
moments: the triumphant, if unprompted return of Buckwheat. It's tough to
assess the need for <i>another</i> installment after the "Buckwheat is Dead"
arc made for an insurmountable finale, but there's enough great little
surprises in what this episode brings that we end up with a pretty fun
epilogue. Buckwheat's in hiding after faking his death, disguised by a
horrendous yellow beard and with the ability to recite a single line clearly
("I'm sorry, I can't allow any visitors. I've been quite ill."), but things
come to a head when Mary's Alfalfa discovers and interrogates him. There's a
lot of reasons the sketch works—Eddie will never not be funny as Buckwheat,
and the attention paid to the character's narrative and continuity makes it
feel like far more than a cheap revival—but it's Mary who ends up being the
greatest spectacle, her Alfalfa gaining some dark, legitimately menacing
shades as he reveals his intentions to kill Buckwheat, once and for all, as
vengeance for a childhood prank that ruined his life. A few other moments in
the episode point to Eddie's bond with his old castmates and his willingness
to stand up for them getting in the show, like recasting Gary as Mr. Landlord
in the Mr. Robinson sketch or the piece helmed by Julia and Mary as two
communists who keep jinxing each other, though it's a shame he could only do
so much to vie for the interests of those who he shared the screen with a
season before.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode, in true S10, is filled in by some hostless sketches,
though that feels like a bizarre fail-safe given Eddie's capabilities.
(Perhaps it has more to do with how reportedly difficult he was to work with
this week.) Nevertheless, none do much to hinder the evening. The
aforementioned communists sketch feels more akin to weird black box theater
than the SNL stage, but it works as well as it can and offers Julia and Mary a
chance to have fun; the "Lifestyles of the Relatives of the Rich and Famous"
sequel serves a similar purpose for Martin, cast as the great-niece of Jerry
Lewis and doing pretty much exactly what you think that would entail. The best
of the hostless portion of the night is Martin's surprise reprisal of Lawrence
Orback from the "Synchronized Swimming" piece, now grasping ineptly at the
notion of climbing stairs during WWII. ("I was raised in the Midwest and
everything's pretty flat... we had a bit of an incline but I mean, nothing
like this!") Your mileage will probably vary because it's a profoundly stupid
sketch, but I just love that random insertion of his character into such a
different context; it helps, too, that Martin is such a physical comedy master
that he turns the mere act of approaching a staircase into a feast.
</p>
<p>
If this perhaps isn't the classic that one would hope an Eddie Murphy
Christmas episode to be, it's a nice, festive boost of energy and morale to
take the season into the holiday break. Eddie, unsurprisingly, does some
serious heavy-lifting, willing some samey material into working a bit better,
but there are signs that the show can still deliver quality product—the
underused cast can still knock things out of the park, Martin is at the height
of his powers, and I mean hell, there would be no "White Like Me" if there was
no Andy Breckman to write it. There's still a lot to theoretically look
forward to from SNL and I hope that the season will continue to live up to its
potential, even if there will be some stumbles here and there.<i>
(Penned 8/23/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/12/85: Kathleen Turner / John Waite (S10E10)</b>
</p>
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<p>
What better way to welcome in the new year than with Fernando, Nazis, subway
shooters, and midget transvestites!? You'd think an episode starting off with
three of those things would be absolutely <i>buck wild</i> and yet...
1985 kicks off with a minor dirge. It's a shame, really; there's a pretty
solid if low-key show buried in what we got this episode, but it fails to come
to fruition. Perhaps SNL is a bit perplexed by its host, Kathleen
Turner—bizarrely, as she calls out in her monologue, the first female host
since Jamie Lee Curtis <i>almost a year before</i> (excluding Betty Thomas in
the five host episode). Of course, this is probably among the worst times in
the show's history for a female host to endure the gauntlet; on top of SNL
being horribly male-dominated, there's not a single women in the writer's room
barring occasional visits from guest writers. For that, I can applaud
Kathleen's gameness and how much she commits herself to the material, but she
just can't do much to energize the listless and lethargic nature of the
material she's routinely presented.
</p>
<p>
A good SNL episode is one that has ebbs and flows, that lets energy travel
through its ups and downs to keep things from ever feeling too uniform; for
however much SNL has left the variety show roots of its predecessors, a good
package of sketches is one defined by variety and alternation. Taken in
isolation, there's plenty of decent material here, and very little bottoms
out, but it's the fact that none of it ignites different sorts of sparks which
dooms the enterprise as a whole. It doesn't matter how good everyone does in
this episode—<i>nobody's</i> forcing energy into it, and in those moments, I
started to realize just how desperately someone like Jim Belushi is needed.
His firing was graciously very brief and he returns next episode, but whereas
Eddie's energy buoyed last show, there's nobody here who can really electrify
the audience with something goofy, amicable, or broad. Instead, we get people
like Harry and Gary filling in those cracks in the show, and while it's nice
to see them being more of an active element than they've been allowed to be
recently, they're in a position to enhance the show rather than save it, if
<i>even</i> that. (Indeed, Harry, in his last episode as a cast member,
submits a painfully sleepy final "Strictly From Blackwell" sketch to close
out the night, as if proceedings weren't dry enough; his short pitchman sketch
is a bit better, but I reiterate, he's no Aykroyd.)
</p>
<p>
We also get a hell of a lot of Billy, and while there's only one point in the
night where he's an absolute disaster, his star power feels like Ebersol's
safety blanket. The guy appears in every major piece in the show all the way
up to the 40-minute mark, and it's absolutely unrelenting even if most of the
pieces would be acceptable enough in isolation. The latest Joe Franklin Show
sketch isn't bad, though it doesn't feel as solid as the first installment
because of a more lacking character roster (though Martin's nonsensical Doug
Henning is great) nor as enjoyable of a strange, looping nature to the
characters' rapport; the latest Willie and Frankie sketch, meanwhile, finds
the two past their prime, only succeeding to get a few smirks from the
audience with their tales of casual body horror. What's far more horrifying is
Billy's inexplicable <i>second</i> one-man show segment, spieling about
his tough, white-knuckled life as a retired boxer and my god, it's a
particularly torturous ego stroke. My goodwill for him is draining fast...
</p>
<p>
A few curiosities in the episode provide more interest, but they don't reach
any dizzying heights. Gary does well with everything he gets, especially. I'm
always happy to see him reprise Walter, perfectly balancing the silliness of
his nose hair-trimming service against his character's crotchety pride, and
his SNN correspondent piece, responding to the glut of beefcake calendars with
a sexy calendar of his own, is the sort of goofy and endearing material that's
helped him continue to stand out even at the margins of this season's cast.
Meanwhile, Martin's sketch, casting him as an overpossessive father who
hypnotizes people with his fireplace to reveal their innermost secrets, offers
an interesting conceptual hook but ends up lingering far too long, though at
least it has a pretty wonderful blooper. I preferred his sketch opposite of
Kathleen as a mousy, single man being forcefully pursued by Kathleen's
desperate man-eater, even if it sadly doesn't end up as great as it should be.
It feels like a throwback to the original era, and guest writer Rosie
Shuster's penmanship lends it a strong female perspective that benefits this
episode, but it ends up becoming an unfortunate victim of the episode's
sluggish atmosphere despite the pair's solid performances.
</p>
<p>
In the end, the listless nature of this episode feels tragic. I want to vouch
for this evening's best interests, and I think in a lot of ways it does things
that this season should be pushing for more, but there's a need for energy
that nobody in this episode is able to conjure, and instead of being savored,
it just feels like it lingers. Hopefully, if nothing else, swapping Harry out
for Jim can offer the right sort of adjustments and bring the vitality back.
<i>(Penned 8/26/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/19/85: Roy Scheider / Billy Ocean (S10E11)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
After taking a dip last episode, SNL seems to snap back into place a little
thanks to some careful adjustments. This isn't a particularly great episode of
the show, but it's one that suggests, perhaps, what the second chapter of this
season will be like. We've burned through the pretapes, gone through some
strange and quiet cast shuffling, and established everything that this
season's big stars can do. There's nothing left to prove on Ebersol's part
about the ability of his show to stay afloat, and the season can start to
strive for a more reliable, stress-free tone. That sense of quiet confidence
plays to this episode's benefit—a little unremarkable, sure, but with nice
variety and some really great surprises.
</p>
<p>
Perhaps my favorite part about this episode is that it does such a nice job of
balancing the cast out, and that lends to a really nice feel that we seldom
get out of this season, or even the whole of the Ebersol era, really. It's a
notably light show for the usual, most potent suspects especially: Billy only
makes two appearances, and Christopher, excluding another sleepy SNN
installment, ties with Martin at one. That gives a chance to other performers
to rise up, with Gary and Mary feeling particularly well-represented, though
perhaps the most joyful development after the past two episodes is that Jim
Belushi's back! He immediately rectifies the energy disparity problems that
plagued last week, offering his boisterous, everyman charms to all of his
sketch appearances and helming a particularly fun guest correspondent spot at
SNN with rant about blasting people with a foghorn (prop very loudly
included!) for talking in the middle of movies—a strangely perfect metaphor
for the extra kick he brings to this season.
</p>
<p>
This is also an episode with surprisingly pleasant material all the way
through, and whatever misfires occur at least fade away pretty quickly. Roy
Scheider isn't the most inspiring host, but he brings things a good energy and
sells everything he's offered with a nice mix of pathos and commitment,
perhaps no better than in the Jim Downey-penned scalper sketch. It's a bit
slow, but Roy's pride as he dismisses any offer less than five million dollars
for his Super Bowl tickets keeps his repetitious lines from becoming too
exhausting. The surprise ending, too, where he comes home to his family and
apologizes to his wife and family for his failings to sell the tickets at the
value he <i>truly</i> believed in—before being smote by lightning from God,
inexplicably—grants the sketch a strange, intriguing edge, with him and Mary
perfectly selling the farcical, maudlin undertone. His best work comes in the
form of two fantastic two-handers at the end of the episode, though. The
return of Martin's underrated Lawrence Orbach, casting him against Roy's
hardened cop as he struggles deeply to interpret their "good cop, bad cop"
routine, is as solid as they come; I seriously think that he might be one of
my favorite, underrated recurring characters. (At one point, in a failure to
understand what "bad" means, he reveals he's handcuffed himself by accident to
the person they're interrogating [Jim]: "I guess I'm a real <i>bad cop</i>,
huh?") More than playing a dull, overexplanatory role, too, Roy's impatience
mounts rather splendidly, creating a great turn at the end where he furiously
plays both parts and scares the shit out of Jim.
</p>
<p>
The best piece of the night, however, in defiance with all imaginable odds,
was "The Flaming Parrot," which—get ready—casts <i>Billy Crystal</i> as a
<i>drag queen lounge pianist</i>. That's the sort of terrifying premise that,
under any other circumstances, would send me running for the hills, but I
think there's something to be said about how even though Billy's hack
instincts can easily lend themselves to fraught outcomes, he's also a very
good performer in the right circumstances. He's some who seems interested in
finding the underlying humanity in lives dissimilar from his own, and while
that can lead him to the grotesque indulgency of his one-man show bits or the
negro baseballers pretape, it also has the capacity to create something
legitimately striking. His personification of Penny Lane is precisely that, a
drag queen interested in making conversation with her somewhat oblivious bar
patron Lester (Roy), brassily teasing him as her job entails but keeping her
dignity intact as he makes some misinformed advances. ("When you get off, you
and I could have a nightcap together." "Les, do you like surprise parties?" "I
hate 'em." "Then go home to your wife and kids.") In the same way Billy seems
interested in unpacking his characters, he uses Penny to unpack Lester's, and
the final outcome is a surprisingly sweet and empathetic portrait of two
people from different walks of life sharing an unlikely moment together in the
night. It's astonishingly perfect.
</p>
<p>
If there aren't any other sketches that can really reach those heights, they
do a good job of maintaining the vigor and often have their own small wins.
Gary retreads his Julio Iglesias impression in what's possibly SNL's first
ever fake celebrity talk show, "In Praise of Women," and while it's not packed
full of surprises, it's a good showcase for his abilities and natural charisma
as he passionately lusts after his guests more than celebrating their great
accomplishments. We also get another Chi-Chi and Consuela sketch, which
manages to kind of work; removing them from the talk show format and letting
us see them in a more natural environment (well, I guess as natural as a
mental institution is) lends the writing the sort of slice-of-life quality
that Julia and especially Mary really shine at. (If nothing else, the sketch
also has some beautiful, erratic dancing from Gary as a patient who believes
himself to be John Oates.) The lowest points are the cold open, though it's
only a minute long, and Billy reprising his "unbelievable" guy from the
earlier one-man show segment, though even that piece manages to get into some
fun as he and Christopher—in rather good form here—competitively hurl insults
at each other. Throw in some fantastic stand-up from Stephen Wright and you've
got a pleasant, stable, and maybe even underappreciated outing of SNL.
<i>(Penned 8/29/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/02/85: Alex Karras / Tina Turner (S10E12)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Gosh, how come Tina Turner couldn't just have hosted this episode? It's a
question even the cold open seems to pose, though it balks at the opportunity
to give much of an answer. She seems like such an obvious choice, and indeed,
in her own charming sketch appearance as Ed Grimley's neighbor and the object
of his unrequited affection at the very top of the episode, she slides into
the scene with so much charisma that the rest of the show feels casually hurt
by the lack of Tina that follows. Instead, we get Alex Karras, a pro football
player turned actor who, indeed, gives off those vibes. If there's one thing I
can say in his favor, it's that he looks like he's having an absolute blast
hosting SNL... but he's not the sort of performer who the show seems able to
find much of a grasp on, and the episode suffers for it.
</p>
<p>
It feels like the obligation to figure out ways to use Alex holds the episode
back, which is unfortunate considering how much it seems to lurch forward when
it's not saddled with him. I'll give him that he does a fun, silly enough
two-hander with Jim as "A Couple of White Guys," even if it's sort of an
indication of Alex's general presence that the best way SNL was able to nail
him down was to observe, "Hey, you're <i>incredibly</i> white!" You work with
what you're given, though, and while it's goofy and stupid, it's a pretty
smart way to retool Jim's "Rappin' Jimmy B" persona and acknowledge the hokey
nature of it with a rap about life in the suburbs, their loving families, and
being Republicans. Elsewhere, Alex works okay when he's slotted into a more
interchangeable role, as he is in the "Kelly Soda" sketch, though that isn't
as big of a winner as it should be. Gary and Mary are in fine form, and Alex
as their intimidating boss works well enough, but Billy is a horrible choice
of an anchor as a co-worker who breaks out into excessive flop sweat when he's
put on the spot. It's a fun Andy Breckman idea, and the sketch has a good
ending, but Billy overacts so hammily that it becomes actively grating. Alex
gets his biggest chance of the night as Lou Albano in the "Tuesday Night
Titans" sketch, but the less said about it, the better—it's a garbled mess of
an idea played out to a dead audience, and for a piece so generally
inoffensive, it's shockingly one of the worst sketches I've seen all season.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode is split down the middle, packing some remarkably
strong sketches and some odd whiffs in equal parts. There's definitely
something of a political undertone to a surprising amount of the material (the
aforementioned "Tuesday Night Titans" included), and as an Ebersol episode, it
shouldn't be a big surprise that none of it works. Jim Downey lends the
material some more bite in theory, but there's too much of a muddled nature to
things like his bizarre potshots at Walter Mondale where it's unclear what
side he's on or what statement he's trying to make; as with the brief, fake
Time Magazine commercial earlier in the episode, it feels like nastiness for
nastiness' sake. On a similar note, we also get Rich reprising his impression
of the "subway vigilante" Bernhard Goetz, a bit that questionably makes jokes
about his peculiarity rather than really scrutinizing him—I guess Democratic
politicians deserve to be eviscerated more than shooters do. On the plus side,
though, the episode features Ed Grimley's best sketch yet, packing in some
great, bizarre little revelations about Ed's life (he takes his triangle
practicing very seriously, and his fridge is packed with hundreds of onions)
alongside the joys of inducting Tina Turner into the sketch-verse, and the
culminating, wild dance that the two do together is as goofy as it is sweet.
Christopher also lands a particularly great sketch as an auctioneer who takes
extreme measures to psychologically torture his bidders, shattering priceless
china until the scarcity boosts its value and forcing bids on an aquarium
filled with kittens and a depleting air supply; it's dark, wild, and couched
perfectly in his unflinching dryness.
</p>
<p>
In the end, this episode certainly has its moments, but it fails to come
together as a whole. Watch this one for Tina, if you watch it at all; if
nothing else, there's three dynamite musical performances.
<i>(Penned 8/30/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/09/85: Harry Anderson / Bryan Adams (S10E13)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I realize that, while Harry Anderson is someone I've become fairly familiar
with over the past three seasons, he's not someone who I've mentioned all that
frequently in my reviews themselves. Like Michael Davis or Stephen Wright,
he's one of a rotation of guest performers during these seasons that are
occasionally ceded time on a given episode to do a bit of their act and give
SNL more of a variety show feel. In the case of Harry, that entails a comedic,
magic act, or otherwise some performance that plays with the audience's
suspension of disbelief in a very nonchalant way. While I'll frequently
appreciate these efforts from SNL to include outside performers, it can be
hard for me to quantify them into my reviews; after all, as I mentioned while
covering the Barry Bostwick episode, I can't say how much outside material
should speak to the strength of a show in a given week. Since this episode is
so reliant on Harry, though, incorporating bits of his act, I'll let that
account for the episode's quality more, and that serves its assessment
well—Harry Anderson's hosting gig, really, is at its best when it lets him do
his thing.
</p>
<p>
While I don't always have the most to say about his act, and while it doesn't
connect with me as much as a few others who've made appearances on the show,
I'm never mad to see Harry, and he submits a handful of fine little pieces in
this episode. The monologue most resembles his classic act, even if much of it
is prolonged build-up: after disavowing magic in favor of his new television
career on <i>Night Court</i>, he brings out a guinea pig to do some tricks for
some wholesome entertainment... only to stuff the "guinea pig" in his mouth
for refusing to cooperate. ("You know the rules: you don't work, you don't
live!") As with much of his best work, it's one that relies more on being
visceral than conventional magic, using the audience's shock as wool over
their eyes, though I found more appreciation in his more laid-back
demonstration of
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chapeaugraphy">chapeaugraphy</a>,
fashioning different sorts of hats out of a circle of felt while telling an
anecdote about the street artist who taught him his ways. In the same way that
Harry can use his charms to subvert, he's also very capable of using them to,
well, <i>charm</i>, and this was a nice way to give an earnest nod to a
long-forgotten art form.
</p>
<p>
The night is a bit less successful when it tries to draw him into sketches
with other performers, though, which is unfortunate considering that's what I
was looking forward to the most—he's proven his gameness and could easily
carry more than the sort of boilerplate host roles he was provided.
Fortunately, that material is at least okay, even if there's nothing that'll
end up in a best of. I liked the idea of the sketch where Jim shows up home
twenty minutes late and discovers his wife, Mary, has taken a new husband
(Harry), though it feels too relaxed for its absurdist premise to blossom;
Jim, as usual, does a great job in this sort of baffled role at least, and
Mary's delivery of "Life is for the prompt!" earns the piece's best laugh, but
I just wish it were better. The Salem Witch Trial sketch similarly has a
pretty fun idea to it, casting Martin as a very perky, modern-day defense
lawyer for Gary's witchcraft-accused client, and it works just a touch better.
There are definitely elements that hit (Jim's prosecutor simply shouting
"WIIIITCH!" as his evidence), and the ending reveal that Gary is, in fact, a
demon spices things up, but it's not quite snappy enough to take off despite
everyone's best efforts. Both sketches, too, don't give Harry very much room
to offer big laughs, which is a bit of a bummer. At the very least, he's far
better-suited by the "Dueling Magi" segment, competing with Rich's Doug
Henning with their displays of magic. Rich is far from an impressionist, but
it's one of my favorite impressions of his ("Thank you!"), and the energy
disparity between his goofiness and Harry's very deadpan, verbless responses
keep things particularly fun.
</p>
<p>
Elsewhere, the night really isn't up to very much. Like the Kathleen Turner
episode, it's frustratingly awash with Billy material, who quite literally
holds down all but one sketch in this episode that Harry isn't a part of. The
return of the "unbelievable" guy only two episodes after his last sketch
appearance was, well, surprising in a way that I'm sure the character could
emphatically describe; while he and Christopher are a good double act, this is
more of the same and doesn't deserve to be trotted back out so quickly. Billy,
though, is a smart enough tactician to make his weaker material look better by
bookending it with even more indulgent garbage, because this episode also has
the completely unwarranted return of "Kate and Ali" (Martin is good as usual,
Billy sours the screen with his umpteenth blackface role) and the reprisal of
his insult comic, Buddy Rogers, Jr., doing a restaurant review at the SNN desk
before walking out into the crowd and doing some burns at very
deliberately-placed celebrity audience members. (I notice that I never
mentioned his first appearance in a pretape from the McKean episode. Moving
on.) The closest Billy scores to a victory is in the revival of his Minkman
character alongside Christopher, with the two using their prankish ways to win
a baseball game, and it's cute enough... it would just be cuter if Billy's
presence in this episode wasn't so overwhelming.
</p>
<p>
Sadly, despite Harry being a fun presence and a few interesting, conceptual
sketches, this is just another episode in this season's second half that
doesn't really work. This one in particular is too eager to play it safe, a
shame given that there's definitely material here that shows a more intriguing
version of Season 10 than we've been getting lately; hopefully that side of
the show can assert itself more, but the precedents being set don't look too
great. <i>(Penned 9/02/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/16/85: Pamela Sue Martin / The Power Station</b><b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;"> (S10E14)</b>
</p>
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<p>
It's perpetually bizarre to me that there was ever a point in history where
soap operas were so big that soap opera stars would actually <i>host</i> SNL,
but that just speaks to how much the cultural landscape has changed; I mean
hell, one of the current, biggest stars of the season garnered traction for
his role in a soap opera spoof. One also ponders, perhaps, if the SNL hosting
gig feels a bit less intimidating to performers in soap operas well-acquainted
to hectic, time-pressed shooting schedules. Either way, Pamela Sue Martin
feels surprisingly comfortable on the SNL stage even if she's no great
revelation, and it makes me wish, especially as one of only <i>two</i> female
hosts in this entire goddamn season, that she had gotten more of a chance. The
failings of this particular episode, though, are incredibly bizarre.
</p>
<p>
Things start out pretty solidly, at least—you can always trust Ebersol to pack
a top-heavy episode, and he conjures up a pretty nice mix of recurring
crowd-pleasers and neat, original pieces. The latest installment of "The Joe
Franklin Show" is an improvement over the last, packing in a particularly fun
and well-rounded roster: in addition to Christopher's goofy Red Skelton and
Martin's always-reliable Jackie Rogers Jr., Gary rounds out the couch as an
impressionist with a dead-on Alan Alda impersonation, spitting off
<i>M*A*S*H</i> quotes unsurely in response to Joe Franklin's befuddling
questions, and Pamela gets a fun bit of business as a numerologist forced to
fend off Jackie's advances. We also get the return of Jim's "White Guy", and
Willie and Frankie; the latter is as they've always been, a bit better than
last time but slightly fatigued from overuse, while the former offers the
usual guilty amusement and gets a good assist from Pamela as "the White Guy's
wife."
</p>
<p>
The more notable victories of the episode's first half, though, is its unique,
conceptual fare. Jim helms a complex, sprawling epic, "The Called Shot," where
he sets out to fulfill a terminally ill child's Babe Ruth-esque promise that
he'll score the biggest laugh ever on SNL. Queasy opening beat aside (Jim
tells a young sick girl that he'll hire her as a secretary in a few
years—whyyyy?), the whole thing is darn-near perfect: it's a great,
mock-dramatic role for Jim, who channels far too much into his horrendously
stupid sketch character, Aunt Willoughby, and the level of ambition that went
into the sketch's production—a combination of live and pretaped elements
featuring shots of a fake, unresponsive crowd and lots of fun, meta backstage
antics—gives everything the sort of grandiose feel which feels exceedingly
rare for SNL to tap into. Although an early symptom of how much this episode
would careen off-course, Rich Hall also gets one of the best moments of his
season here with his prop stand-up routine using multiple pieces of Plexiglas;
while Rich might've made a name for himself before SNL for his political
satire, I've fallen in love with the sort of whimsical, off-beat comic
stylings he's deployed across his tenure, and it's gratifying as all hell to
hear the audience roar in applause by the end of his set.
</p>
<p>
Unfortunately, after SNN (a bit better than usual, at least), this episode
bafflingly falls apart, not even in a quality control sort of way so much as
one that eludes a simple answer. I'm tempted to place some of the blame on
this episode's "First Draft Theater" segment, which features one of the most
notorious, sketch-destroying blunders in the show's history: in the middle of
the opening voice-over, Christopher drops his script and puts the entire
sketch at a stand-still for twenty seconds as he scrambles to pick the script
back up and find his place. This rendition of the concept is already pretty
lesser compared to the first two—Billy as Moses isn't a particularly enjoyable
anchor, and the repetitious gag of Jim calling him out for his vagueness and
Moses shrugging desperately to camera wears thin quickly—but the early stumble
kills the rest of the sketch's momentum, and perhaps due to how much
screentime gets corroded, it might've even killed the rest of the night's
momentum, too. Whether it's time constraints or not, though, the rest of the
episode is a bizarre cobble of short bits and bobs that very much feels like
SNL scrambling to pad its episode out in <i>real time</i> (as if the
earlier, prolonged Fernando remote and Rich Hall's admittedly-great stand-up
routine didn't already feel like padding). While that does mean we get treated
to one of my favorite obscurities of the Ebersol era—a fantastic, hand-drawn
experimental animation where two cowboys in a stand-off fire zeppelin bullets
at each other—it's impossible for the night to recover.
</p>
<p>
On one hand, I find that bizarreness sort of riveting; while it's pretty
common to see SNL episodes time out these days, it feels incredibly rare for
the show to fall apart as much as this one does, so desperately stitching
itself together that it barely fights its way to the finish line. This episode
is nothing if not a great curiosity. Unfortunately, that also leaves it as a
fairly disappointing outing for the show, touting some solid bits but failing
to cohere as a whole and wasting its decent host. (Pamela actually
<i>vanishes</i> for almost a full hour, only getting one more short,
one-minute long piece alongside Pamela near the end; even for an Ebersol-era
episode, that host misplacement feels particularly atrocious.) I'm always
happy to see an episode that's particularly interesting to dissect, but it's a
shame that it's not a more interesting one to watch. <i>(Penned 9/14/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">3/30/85: Mr. T and Hulk Hogan / The Commodores</b><b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;"> (S10E15)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
In the true spirit of this season's back-half, it's a gut punch that this
episode was another bust. I blame myself, but in all fairness, it's hard
<i>not</i> to look forward to seeing two people as ridiculous as Mr. T and
Hulk Hogan hosting the show, and if nothing else, they'd bring heaps of
energy, right? Well, as it turns out... not exactly. This episode feels like
it's still dusting off the cobwebs of the writer's strike that created a
month-long gulf between this episode and the last, and the end result is a
strangely underwritten evening less intent to satisfy the expectations of its
audience than to fill a mandatory programming slot.
</p>
<p>
The most immediate source of disappointment is the fact that Mr. T and Hulk
Hogan <i>barely</i> even feel like hosts in this episode, and the show seems
unable to figure out how to use them. I've seen some decent theories about why
their hosting capacity was so limited, and I'm most inclined to believe in
Bronwyn's hypothesis that the show was restricted by the WWF's policy of
kayfabe—the careful maintaining of wrestler's public images so as to depict
their on-stage personas and actions as genuine. Perhaps it's no surprise, too,
that the best moment of the entire episode was the moment that found a way to
sneakily hack away at that policy. "Fernando's Hideaway" is such an unreliable
segment, because Fernando is such an unreliable character that Billy is intent
to force down everyone's throats, but it can also be the perfect vehicle to
force guests out of their sense of self-control and challenge their instincts;
whether or not I found his comments particularly funny, Hulk and Mr. T
certainly do, and seeing them both reduced to uncontrollable giggles and tears
by the segment's end is undeniably the most joyous moment of the entire
night.
</p>
<p>
Unfortunately, they find surprisingly unexciting usage throughout the rest of
the night, and even if kayfabe was in effect, that doesn't have to be as much
of a roadblock as it ends up being. When Mr. T made his cameos two seasons
before, he walked away with the biggest highlights of the night while
reinforcing his wrestler persona—so how come we couldn't get anything to that
effect here? Instead, both wrestlers mostly treat the night as an excuse for
Wrestlemania promotion, doing bits that feel scripted for a crowd of rowdy WWF
fans more than the very polite, comedy-expectant SNL audience. They do make a
few more conventionally-scripted appearances, but no great shakes: they appear
as themselves alongside Billy Crystal's horrible Prince impression, concussing
guest singers who try to get in on his "I Am The World" rendition (it's okay,
and Gary's Bruce Springsteen impression is a gut-buster at least), Hulk makes
a sketch-ending appearance as Jason Voorhees in the "Camp Crystal Lake"
sketch, and Mr. T awkwardly joins The Commodores on the tambourine before...
walking off. It's a very bizarre moment, yet somehow not the most dead this
episode gets.
</p>
<p>
As for everything else, it's a strange amalgamation of material, some pieces
working better than others but none being a clear winner. On the "writer's
strike holdover" front, Billy submits a long pretape of his brief, fictitious
stint as a substitute teacher in the projects, and it's perhaps one of the
more forgettable—albeit tolerable—vanity pieces from his tenure. If it's hard
to be actively angry at, watching Billy posit himself as some sort of heroic
teacher able to get through to some ne'er-do-well kids (one declares, "You
look mah-velous!" as he leaves, so I hope he was paid well) feels too cloying
and cutesy to be a functional comedy piece despite some decent moments.
There's also a stand-up segment from some dude named Steve Landesburg, who was
apparently supposed to host this episode but had to drop out which is another
reason for this week's weird final product, perhaps? But he's rather awful and
hacky while somehow bearing the demeanor of a college professor. (In one of
the most accidentally funny moments of the night, they give him his own bumper
as if to further make a point out of the fact that Hulk Hogan and Mr. T are
barely hosting.)
</p>
<p>
Despite being substantially more written, the final "Joe Franklin Show"
installment feels similarly bred from the weird circumstances, not as punchy
as previous iterations and featuring an inexplicable appearance from the real
Liberace (for some WWF cross-promotion actually,
<i>because of fucking course</i>). I never hate these, but considering there
was one of these last episode, it feels like too soon of a return. Nathan
Thurm feels similarly played-out, even if this latest appearance
recontextualizes him into a sketch; there's just nowhere else for him to go
with how rigidly he's characterized, and the novelty wears off far too quickly
when it becomes obvious that there's realistically no new additions to the
game. It's rather slim pickings for the best of the night, comparatively. I
wanted to like the gays in prison sketch, because Martin and Christopher
perform the <i>hell</i> out of it, but it's the sort of sketch that perhaps
felt more subversive then than it does now. It's hard not to wince at the fear
of things devolving into a prison rape jokefest, and while that mercifully
never happens—with Christopher's kingpin instead taking Martin's new fish on a
tender date before politely asking if he could be his bitch—it's a premise
that's unable to escape its dated and worrisome confines. Fortunately,
Christopher gets to deploy his killer deadpan in a far less fraught piece
tonight, too; the "Camp Crystal Lake" piece, where he fails to advertise the
infamous murder-camp from the <i>Halloween</i> movies to a skeptical family,
is the best written sketch the night has.
</p>
<p>
Perhaps this was a bit of a messy review, but it's hard as hell to do any
better when I'm presented with such a messy episode. I hoped for a crazy,
high-energy episode of SNL, and all I got was a Wrestlemania promo and a heavy
dose of Billy Crystal. Comedy is always a welcome sight; hopefully, with more
remove from the writer's strike, SNL will be able to return to a more stable
and enjoyable place. <i>(Penned 9/21/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">4/06/85: Christopher Reeve / Santana</b><b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;"> (S10E16)</b>
</p>
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<p>
Even though the second half of this season has been, to put it a bit
generously, something of a struggle... I held out hope for this one. I knew
this episode had a remarkable reputation of being one of the best of this
season, and for some, one of the best of the entire Ebersol era. I know, too,
that having expectations with SNL is probably the worst thing someone could
ever have, but when everything's been so lackluster... they definitely can't
hurt, right? I was pleasantly surprised, then, that while the Christopher
Reeve episode doesn't quite live up to its sterling reputation, it's a
particularly enjoyable evening in the Ebersol era's final hours that succeeds
both on the host's charisma and the cast operating at full force.
</p>
<p>
If the previous episode was an awkward week of settling back into the studio,
this week feels like everyone's got a renewed sense of energy and the right
sketches to showcase it. So often it feels like everyone on the show is
bizarrely stratified, regularly wasting the talent the past few seasons have
cultivated in favor of highlighting the new ringers; while there's no shortage
of spotlight pieces for Ebersol's favorites (including one of the most famous
of the season), I was excited to see practically everyone in the cast getting
an opportunity to demonstrate their chops here, and many sketches had an
appreciable, ensemble feel. "Superman Auditions" was probably my favorite, not
only perfectly tailored for the host at hand but a wonderful sketch that gives
everyone a chance at their own side-business. Reeve earns laughs by being the
most inept of the actors who have made it to the final round of auditions and
Rich is a lot of fun, too, as an actor who is just as awkward but more
technically proficient at the superpowers they get tested on (catching bullets
in their mouth, turning coal into a diamond); Gary runs away from this one,
though, as an overconfident, cocky actor who brown-noses his way to the front
with little self-awareness before facing an ignoble end from a stunt gone
wrong. Oh, and the the piece even creates a great opportunity for Julia to dig
into a character as a deadpan harshly New York-accented script reader! Seeing
a Season 10 sketch which is both wonderfully-constructed and gives the most
underrated cast members a chance to shine is like witnessing a shooting
star—you gotta cherish it while it lasts.
</p>
<p>
"Superman Auditions" contrasts pretty strongly with the next sketch in the
night, "Jackie Rogers' $100,000 Jackpot Wad," though they're both such
high-quality pieces in spite of their differences that they feel like the
opposite faces of a very pretty coin. Everything about "Jackpot Wad" should be
scary—it's built for indulgent performances including Billy's Sammy Davis and
Guest's Rajeev Vindaloo, who are both caked in far more face paint than ever
before—and yet, framed by Martin-as-Jackie's preposterously garish game show,
it simply <i>works</i>. Honestly, the one thing that hurts it is Jim and
Mary's portions, which hurts to say (it's just not fun watching Mary get
yelled at and strangled); the perfect run of <i>Password</i> clues and guesses
between Guest and Billy, though, is some of the most high-density hilarity
we've had all season, making perfect use of the pair's chemistry. (Rajeev
immediately guessing "Chocolate Babies" before Sammy finishes setting him up
is, rightfully, one of the the biggest laughs. Sometimes stellar writing
trumps iffiness!) Billy would continue to push his luck this episode with that
win under his belt, and while his latest appearance as Buddy Young Jr. is as
annoying as his first, his piece alongside Reeve as an elderly man beguiled to
encounter Reeve's past-his-prime Superman at the retirement home has some
nice, bittersweet moments (and Reeve at the top of his acting game) that make
the usual scene-chewing, phlegmy Billy performance a bit more tolerable.
</p>
<p>
There's not any other big winners scattered about the episode, but everything
else is of a pleasant, enjoyable enough quality that there's never a loss of
momentum. The cold open is a rare impression parade for the show, and while
it's hit-and-miss as usual—good to see Gary's Alan Alda back and Guest's
recurring James Mason is fun, but fuck Billy's awful Asian routine as Dr.
Haing S. Ngor,
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haing_S._Ngor">a man who definitely does not deserve it</a>—it's a breezy enough start and, as I said before, maintains the episode's
strong ensemble feel. The WWII sketch is more enjoyable, if feeling a bit
conventional; Jim is in great form as a meat-headed sergeant privy to the dumb
ideas of his troop in their desperation to escape the Germans, though Billy's
sarcastic and uncooperative soldier clashes with things a hair too much. The
final sketch of the night offers the immediate surprise of being a two-hander
carried out by Gary and Guest, who've never been meaningfully paired up
before, and it's a fun opportunity for both of them to do their thing. Gary's
become a bizarre muse for some pervy comedy from the show, though he always
strikes the balance well, and he's great here as an Amish impostor spreading
crude misinformation about the Amish community to Guest's disbelieving talk
show host.
</p>
<p>
I'm sure this episode will be most remembered for it's two greatest successes,
but honestly... that's pretty fair. And even if the rest of this episode isn't
at that level, but there's still a lot of fun to be had, and Reeve is a
charismatic presence every time he gets to participate; for such a tumultuous,
ensemble-averse season too, I was elated to see the show feel like a true
group effort. Here's hoping that even if the finale is a bit of a step down,
it gives this rag-tag gang the send-off that they deserve.
<i>(Penned 9/26/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+. </b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">4/13/85: Howard Cosell / Greg Kihn</b><b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;"> (S10E17)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
To quote Howard Cosell in his monologue, the fact that he's hosting the season
finale might be a felicitous occasion, but it's certainly not a fortuitous
one. Despite never setting foot anywhere near the studio, he's
cosmically-linked to the show for the simple fact that, as he espouses in his
monologue, he was the star of the <i>original </i>Saturday Night Live. It's a
fun little bit of trivia for the diehards that SNL didn't always used to be
SNL: it used to be <i>NBC's Saturday Night</i>, unable to choose the name it
would eventually be known as because of the existence of Cosell's show,
<i>Saturday Night Live with Howard Cosell</i>. Even more ironically, that's
pretty much the only reason Cosell's show is even remembered; it's otherwise
wallowed away in obscurity, a legendary trash fire
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gUZNubZiZPc">for which only a crude audio recording has been preserved</a>, though a trash fire which at least served as a launching pad for a few
exceptional talents—Bill and Brian-Doyle Murray, Christopher Guest, and Billy
Crystal. (Unrelated: I'll let you guess which cast members seemed particularly
<i>activated</i> this episode.)
</p>
<p>
I'm also sure that rounding out the Ebersol era with as beloved of a figure in
sports as Cosell was an act of wish fulfillment on Ebersol's part to some
degree, but I'll give it to him—Cosell does a hell of a job as host. Don't get
me wrong, Cosell isn't an ace comic performer, but he's an unmistakable one;
everything he appears in is tinged with Cosell-isms in the same way that hosts
like Edwin Newman or Christopher Walken define their episodes' tone and, at
times, make it more enjoyable than it has any right to be. Hell, against all
odds, he's somehow a great neutralizer of Billy's worst tendencies: there's a
sketch where Billy gets in moderately-horrific drag to play Cosell's real-life
mother and in-sketch wife, all while deploying his Cosell impression, and yet
Cosell makes the sketch fun! By simply doing what he does best, being as
verbose as a human could possibly be, he creates a sense of strange joy. It's
also interesting, and nice given the occasion, that for as much as Cosell is
placed at the episode's center, this feels like a proper farewell to everyone
in the cast; with the exception of poor Pamela, who toils away in bit roles as
usual, this is an evening that lets everyone do what they're best at one last
time, granting the proceedings a surprising sense of finality.
</p>
<p>
I'd be remiss not to mention, of course, that in spite of the occasion, the
episode is still as intent as always to shove Billy down our throat as ever. I
wouldn't mind, perhaps, if he was more of a team player, but he's one of those
performers whose presence frequently necessitates being the center of
attention, and while I can forgive the aforementioned Cosell family bar
mitzvah sketch—it at least places him toe-to-toe with Cosell, and Cosell is
fun—I'm less forgiving of another installment of Fernando's Hideaway, nor his
pretape as an elderly boxer staging a comeback, which is possibly one of the
most insufferable vanity pieces he ever conceived. (It's just Billy wearing a
horrific, prosthetic death mask, making lazy old person jokes while using one
of his stock, nail-on-chalkboard voices... fun!) I get that, as an important
part of this era—albeit one whose importance warrants an eye-roll at best—this
episode needs to cater to the fact that it's his last, too, but it feels like
a reminder of the season's problems more than anything else that we get
<i>three </i>Billy-centered sketches sequenced <i>in a row</i>.
</p>
<p>
Fortunately, there's still plenty to enjoy here, and the episode as a whole
presents some great, final opportunities to our departing cast. First, the
unsurprising ones: in addition to Billy, both Christopher and Martin get
obvious, "Give the audience what they want" spotlight moments, but they're the
sort of consummate performers who never truly wore me down. Christopher, most
notably, reprises the Willie and Frankie routine one last time with Billy, and
it does one of my favorite little things the Ebersol era would do: bringing
recurring characters into 8H for their final outings (see also: Dion, the
Whiners). The bit is the same as it's always been, but having the two
characters be working as camera operators at SNL makes for a fun, meta
conclusion to their journey across varying occupations, and the warm crowd
ensures it starts the episode off on a decent note. He also anchors his final
SNN segment, and while it's still pretty lackluster (more on that later), he's
thrown a few more decent jokes than usual, and I greatly enjoyed how it
created a chance for the cast to reprise a few of their signature
correspondent characters one more time: Martin's Nathan Thurm, Gary's
projectionist Dwight MacNamara, and Rich's constantly-intruding Robert Latta.
Thurm remains as Thurm-y as always, though Martin also gets to reprise Ed
Grimley one final time, and it's a particularly memorable installment if not
strictly for the inclusion of Howard Cosell as Ed's uncle, sparing him from
Christopher's misinformed mafia hitman: "Unhand my nephew, I must say. Because
what you're doing is far from decent, you know." Even down to his final
episode, Martin can do no wrong.
</p>
<p>
It's everyone else who offers the best surprises. The ensemble "Run, Throw,
& Catch Like a Girl Olympics" sketch is a guilty riot, and it's a perfect
final demonstration of Gary, Jim, and Martin's physical comedy prowess as they
showcase their most pathetic throws, run with their limbs flailing about, and
throw tantrums for the highest marks. If it has a dumb premise, it's knowingly
dumb, and it finds ways to poke fun at its absurd misogyny (Rich's role as the
sleazy proprietor, Julia and Mary dropping nukes on the event in protest)
instead of simply punching down. Gary and Jim also team up later in the night
with a new twist on Jim's "White Guy" routine as two "Red Guys" who celebrate
their defection from the Soviet Union. It's stupid as usual, but it's a good
reminder of how much mileage both Gary and Jim get out of their very pure,
screen-brightening likability. Mary, meanwhile, gets an unexpected,
full-fledged sketch as her sex therapist character Dr. Ruth Westheimer, and
while it's not my favorite Mary thing to see, I get that it's probably her
most recognizable to the audience at this point and I'm always happy when she
can anchor a sketch. It's a decent piece, too, all things considered; teaming
her up with Rich's Dr. Seuss, offering absurd, rhyming tips to Howard Cosell
about his lustful thoughts, takes the sketch into delightfully silly
territory. The greatest surprise of this episode, though, is that on the final
night of her tenure, after years of misuse, Julia helms possibly the most
famous sketch of her run at the show as a talk show guest who cannot stop
doing <i>incredulous</i> spit-takes on her poor guests. You could argue the
premise is thin or childish, but it's thin or childish in that signature Andy
Breckman way, finding all of the perfect nuances and variations in the idea to
keep the audience on their toes. To Julia's credit, too, it's a masterful,
gleeful comedic performance—no wonder she left a career-defining impression on
Larry David.
</p>
<p>
I've said a lot about this episode, but it's hard not to. Even though there
are still a few more closing thoughts I have about Season 10 as a whole,
there's a natural poignancy in knowing that, for most of these people...
this'll be the last time I really get to talk about their contributions to the
show, episode by episode. It's true that Season 10 has ground to a screeching
halt throughout its second half, often getting tripped up by its worst
tendencies, but I don't feel as burned out as I did by the end of Season 5
because I don't feel like I've seen everything that all of these performers
have to offer. Whereas people like Christopher and Martin feel like they've
given everything they can and look forward to leaving, and whereas someone
like Billy brings me joy simply in knowing I will <i>never</i> cover him on
the show again... it's cast members like Jim, Mary, Rich, and especially Gary
who I feel had so much more to offer. Their absence going forward will make me
miss this era, even if it was an unfriendly era to most of their abilities. I
suppose my relationship to the Ebersol years is a complicated one, but I at
least feel comfortable saying that it deserves far more credit than it
routinely gets in the present; in all of the era's ups and downs, inherent
strengths, and debilitating weaknesses, though, there's perhaps no more
representative episode to wrap things up. I'll miss these guys. We'll see how
much Season 11 does to ease the transition, though a part of me thinks it'll
make the transition worse... <i>(Penned 9/29/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;"><b>Cumulative Season Rankings:</b><br /></span><b>1.</b> George Carlin / Frankie Goes to Hollywood (A-)<br /><b>2.</b> Ed Asner / The Kinks (A-)<br /><b>3.</b> Christopher Reeve /
Santana (B+)<br /><b>4.</b> (no host) / Thompson Twins (B+)<br /><b>5.</b> The Reverend Jesse Jackson / Andrae Crouch and Wintley Phipps (B+)<br /><b>6.</b> Michael McKean / Chaka Khan (B+)<br /><b>7.</b> Eddie Murphy / The
Honeydrippers (B)<br /><b>8.</b> Roy Scheider / Billy Ocean (B)<br /><b>9.</b> Howard Cosell / Greg Kihn (B)<br /><b>10.</b> Ed Begley Jr. /
Billy Squier (B-)<br /><b>11.</b> Pamela Sue Martin / The Power Station
(C+)<br /><b>12.</b> Harry Anderson / Bryan Adams (C+)<br /><b>13.</b> Kathleen Turner / John Waite (C)<br /><b>14.</b> Alex Karras /
Tina Turner (C)<br /><b>15.</b> Mr. T and Hulk Hogan / The Commodores
(C-)<br /><b>16.</b> Ringo Starr / Herbie Hancock (C-)<br /><b>17.</b> Bob Uecker / Peter Wolf (D+)
</p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE SKETCHES:<br />10.</b> "Superman Auditions" (S10E16 /
Christopher Reeve)<br /><b>9.</b> "The Flaming Parrot" (S10E11 / Roy
Scheider)<br /><b>8.</b> "Inside Out" (S10E17 / Howard Cosell)<br /><b>7. </b>"Ed Grimley: Miss Malone" (S10E12 / Alex Karras)<br /><b>6.</b> "Walking
After Midnight"(S10E06 / Ed Asner)<br /><b>5. </b>"Rabbi" (S10E04 /
Michael McKean)<b> </b><br /><b>4.</b> "First Draft Theater" (S10E01
/ hostless)<br /><b>3. </b> "Donald Ramp: Chess Coach" (S10E05 /
George Carlin)<br /><b>2. </b>"White Like Me" (S10E09 / Eddie Murphy)<br /><b>1.</b> "Synchronized Swimming" (S10E01 / hostless)
</p>
<p>
<b>Other great sketches:</b> "The Bulge" (S10E01 / hostless); "7X4"
(S10E02 / Bob Uecker); "The Question is Moot" (S10E03 / The Reverend Jesse
Jackson); "The Folksmen" and "SNL Fashion Report" (S10E04 / Michael McKean);
"Night Watch," "Ted's Book of World Records," and "Not a Cop" (S10E05 / George
Carlin); "Old Peter Pan" (S10E06 / Ed Asner); "Seventh Wedge" (S10E07 / Ed
Begley Jr.); "Climbing Upstairs" (S10E09 / Eddie Murphy); "New Auctioneer"
(S10E12 / Alex Karras); "Called Shot" (S10E14 / Pamela Sue Martin);
"Jackie Roger Jr.'s $100,000 Jackpot Wad" (S10E16 / Christopher Reeve);
"Inside Out" and "Run, Throw, & Catch Like a Girl Olympics" (S10E17 /
Howard Cosell)
</p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE MUSICAL PERFORMANCES:</b><br /><b>8.</b> The Power Station
(S10E14 / Pamela Sue Martin)*<br /><b>7.</b> The Commodores feat. Mr. T
(S10E15 / Hulk Hogan and Mr. T)<br /><b>6.</b> Andrae Crouch (S10E03 /
The Reverend Jesse Jackson)<br /><b>5.</b> Greg Kihn (S10E17 / Howard
Cosell)<br /><b>4.</b> Santana (S10E16 / Christopher Reeve)<br /><b>3.</b> Chaka Khan (S10E04 / Michael McKean)<br /><b>2.</b> The
Honeydrippers (S10E09 / Eddie Murphy)<br /><b>1.</b> Tina Turner (S10E12
/ Alex Karras)
</p>
<p>
*It's annoying that everyone is apparently miming their instruments instead of
actually playing them, because if they were just proper musical performances
they'd rank much higher.
</p>
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</div>
<p>
<b>WEEKEND UPDATE:</b> It's telling that pretty much all the
conversations I've had about Saturday Night News this season are about whether
or not Christopher Guest is the worst news anchor in SNL history. I'm hesitant
to say that he is, but in no way that should that be interpreted as much of a
defense—it's more a damnation of how awful Brian Doyle-Murray was, and I
refuse to allow the badness of his never-ending Newsbreaks be surpassed.
Either way, I think it's safe to say that the Ebersol era was, in general, a
rough period for SNL's fake news segment.
</p>
<p>
Christopher, simply put, is a character actor. He had the same issues as Dan
Aykroyd before him. He's brilliant at playing whatever smattering of weirdoes
tickle his fancy, and he always finds a very believable, human quality within
them which proved to be one of his greatest assets as a cast member.
Unfortunately, he's also not a performer who feels comfortable in his own
skin, and he doesn't have comic persona that he can deploy when he's playing
himself on-camera. Whereas I think Dan's roughness as an anchor is a bit
overstated (at least the zanier writing helped lift him up), Christopher is
fully indefensible; he's given horrible jokes and, in his horrific dryness,
has no absolutely <i>no</i> ability to get them over. Most of the joy that
could be ascertained from SNN, as usual, are the correspondents, though they
felt like something of a step down from last season. Gary continued to be one
of the desk's most reliable haunts, and Pamela probably did her most
meaningful work of the season here, too, but most of the rest was
inconsistent, or simply worn down by overuse (Jim's airhorn commentaries,
Rich's Paul Harvey). I certainly won't miss the Ebersol era's approach to the
fake news at all, though I also hesitate to think that six seasons of Dennis
Miller will fare all that much better.
</p>
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</div>
<p>
<b>SOME WORDS ON THE DEPARTING CAST: </b>There's a whole cast to discuss.
Let's start with Billy.
</p>
<p>
Would you believe that I won't miss Billy that much? It's true! Of all of the
new people brought onboard for Season 10, he was by far the most frustrating,
and at times actively suffocating. He's certainly not a bad performer, and
there are a lot of things he did during his run on the show that I really do
appreciate; the fact that two of his spotlight/vanity pieces ended up in my
top ten list for the season speaks for itself. I also think that there is
something noble in his attitude towards character work, which I wrote about in
my Roy Scheider review; I believe that he's someone interested in the the
lives of others, and his intentions in embodying them are sincere. Part of the
issue with that, though, is that there are several boundaries that Billy is
all too eager to cross when he shouldn't (the Negro baseballers, <b>fuck</b>),
and his routine is one which so often flirts with austere hackiness. He was
also never a team player; although he scored a fruitful partnership with
Christopher, who frequently found a way to give Billy a better framework for
success (the Minkmans, "Jackpot Wad"), Billy had no reservations about
centering himself in multiple sketches every episode, suppressing the other
talented voices in the show. Every once in a while I'll hear about his
generosity behind the scenes, which brings Eddie Murphy's efforts to uplift
his fellow castmates to mind—he did write the fantastic Peter Pan scene for
Mary and Ed Asner, after all—but I get the sense that it comes more from a
sense of vanity for Billy than selflessness or a desire to be part of the
ensemble. He did some great stuff, but the bad makes his heavy presence feel
like a chokehold. After all, it was often better for him to look good than to be good.</p>
<p>Christopher, despite being the second most visible cast member most of
the time, was far more enjoyable as a performer. Saturday Night News was awful, so
I don't want to belabor that any further, but it's unfortunate how much of a
shadow it casts over his otherwise solid tenure at the show. He's like a less
hacky version of Billy; he discovers different characters and imbues them with
unique energies that make them pop. I don't think I'll really miss him,
because as with Martin, he feels like a performer who gave everything that he
could and was ready to leave, but his brief tenure feels quite underrated. For
him, though, SNL was little more than a brief pit stop on his comic ascent.
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Now Martin, though... it'll be hard not to miss seeing him every week. I have
an ongoing theory that he may actually be one of the funniest people on the
entire planet, and this season has done a lot to confirm that: he
<i>never missed</i>, give or take a few Nathan Thurms. He's a performer in full control of all of
the faculties of his body, and his ability to physically inhibit all of his
characters—the excitable, wildly-gesticulating Ed Grimley, or the frail monkey
man that is Lawrence Orbach, both of whom are some of the most underrated
sketch characters of all time in my book—ensures that he can kill with so much
as a single movement. Not to be outdone, though, his skills as a performer
were far more than physical; he's also a damn good actor who can sell anything
he's given, and one who knows how to earn his laughs without being the center
of attention. (See his performance in the "Rabbi" sketch opposite Billy; the
level of commitment he gives to his straight man role helps make the entire
thing click.) I look forward to seeing him pop up in future hosting stints
very much, I must say.</p>
<p>
I also greatly enjoyed Rich as a performer, far more than I was anticipating.
He's a bit of a strange one; while, like Pamela, he was hired based on his
success as a satirist, it's a skillset that by and large proved itself to be
useless against Ebersol's staunchly apolitical vision of the show. Whereas
Pamela was never able to really find anything meaningful to do, though, Rich
revealed another corner of his personality that proved to be one of the
season's most sneakily enjoyable assets: he's just an
<i>insanely fun weirdo</i>. He found the perfect intersection between gleeful
stupidity and shocking celebreality, often scoring underrated highlights
throughout the season—his Plexiglas stand-up, his collaboration with Breckman
on the excellent "Walking After Midnight" pretape, and his crazed David Byrne
impression are all sublime. But perhaps one of the most surprising aspects of
him as a cast member was how much it felt like he gelled with Ebersol's
B-tier. He felt like he was far more invested in being a team player than most
of his other contemporaries, and as a result, he fit into the show far more comfortably than the likes of Billy, Christopher, Harry, or even Martin. Of
all of Season 10's new hires, I would've loved to see him continue with the
show the most.
</p>
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</div>
<p></p>
<p>
That leaves us with Pamela and Harry (before we move on to the longer-tenured
performers... this section is LONG). Pamela is perhaps the most disappointing
casualty of the season, both because she's someone who excels in an arena that
Ebersol had no use for (satire), and because she was a woman during one of the
most male-driven periods in the show's history. Her highlights were few and
far between, and it's tough to tell if she really connected with anyone behind
the scenes. She had a run of solo sketches as different famous musicians at
the top of the season (Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, Billy Idol, etc.) which didn't really connect with me or the audience very much, but she fared a bit
better as SNN's double-talking British correspondent, Angela Bradleigh.
Perhaps it's telling, in a bit of a sad way, that the most memorable thing she
got to do all season was appear as herself during SNN, battling against her
wildly sentient puppet-boobs.
</p>
<p>
As for Harry... he shouldn't have come back this season. I'm fairly ambivalent
to his brief tenure in Season 5, though it was at least a far better fit then,
and under Lorne's leadership, his contributions to the show felt more
meaningful. In Season 10, he scores some massive highlights—his Reagan was
solid, and of course, "Synchronized Swimming" is one of the greatest SNL
sketches of all time—but his brand of comedy could also be insanely tiring in
its low energy dryness (Richard Blackwell). His quote that he left because of
creative differences—"I was creative, they were different"—is perhaps one of
the most potent quotes regarding the Ebersol era, and while I can empathize
with the remark considering how much he was shut out before quitting, most of
his efforts simply do not work.
</p>
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</div>
<p></p>
<p>
Now, onto the stalwarts! I think I've made my love for Gary fairly clear
across the past few seasons, but just to reiterate: isn't Gary great? He's never
been one of Ebersol's most frequent players, but he's one of the most
reliable; across his three seasons at the show, he made himself useful as one of the cast's best utility players. Most of his success can be pinned to his
affability; even if his characters straddled along the lowest rungs of the
social ladder like Ira Needleman or El Dorko, he imbued them with such a sense
of sincerity and passion that their victories felt like legitimate, rousing
triumphs. While it's a somewhat unrecognized characteristic of his tenure,
too, I greatly appreciate how much he maintained a place in the show as
himself, Gary Kroeger; the meta, behind-the-scenes aspect of the show was in
general decline throughout the Ebersol era, and Gary was one of the few
performers intent to maintain a persona that connected him to the audience.
Bits like his little arc about perpetually having this sketches cut throughout
his first season, culminating in a suicide attempt, or his disgruntled Walter
Mondale cold open where he vented about how dumb it was to hone his Walter
Mondale impression all summer—and of course, all of his SNN guest spots—helped
maintain Gary as one of the show's most unheralded but present voices. If he
could never be properly recognized for his contributions in an era defined by
star power, I'm glad that his reputation in recent years has improved amongst
diehard fans, ever so slightly.
</p>
<p>
Similarly, I'll miss Jim a heck of a lot. I feel like he gets an outrageously
unfair rep; I know that a lot of his more recent projects have poisoned the
well, but it's hard to deny that Jim was an important member of this era of
the show who was subject to unfair comparisons to his more famous brother.
Truth be told, though... I think I like Jim more? If I can't deny John's
legacy at the show, and the specific, "dangerous" energy that I brought, I
much prefer Jim's approachability. His boisterousness funneled into more clever character work than "Belushi being Belushi," as in
Jim's fantastic chess coach pretape, and he also has a far greater range when
it comes to playing genial everyman characters; even a role as minor as his
massive <i>Ghostbusters</i> fan in the first Chi-Chi and Consuela sketch has really
stuck with me as an example of just how endearing of a presence he could be.
It's true that Jim was prone to some of the same things that, as a Belushi,
he's contractually obligated to do (he honked that airhorn a few too many
times this season), but even through all of those iffy spots he was an
excellent performer who Ebersol was smart to tout as one of the show's leading
voices, however much some of this season's new hires threatened to ice him out.
It's always a good sign for a cast member's significance if they get fired and
promptly rehired once it becomes obvious that the show can't function nearly
as well without them.
</p>
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<p></p>
<p>
Lastly, there's Mary and Julia, two talented performers who, despite being
present throughout the vast majority of Ebersol's run at SNL, were never used
to their fullest capacity. Julia is one of those cast members who will forever
live on in the most aggressively annoying listicles as one of those stars you
will <i>NOT</i> believe was once on SNL. She was a far different
performer in her earliest years than she would end up becoming, which is
totally fair. Comedians take time to hone their voices, and most aren't given
the sort of insane exposure that SNL offers them while they're still
assembling their point of view. There were hints of Julia's greatness, like
the wonderful "Inside Out" from this season, or "The Julia Show" from Season
9, but more often than not she did a lot of mugging and face-pulling if she
got to be the focus of anything at all. She definitely deserved more from the
show even if her craft wasn't as finely honed as it would eventually become;
either way, it's satisfying to see her returns to SNL as host decades later,
fully-formed and beloved as one of the most gifted comic actors of our time.
</p>
<p>
Mary fared better on the show, and she's probably the definitive female cast
member of the era; despite being a bit green at the start of her tenure, she
steadily worked her way into being the most versatile and reliable of the
women at the show. She made some of her greatest bounds playing ditzy or mousy
characters, and she made performing such characters an art form, but I'll
always love her the most for her more shockingly acerbic, aggressive
characterizations: her condescending, erudite date in "She's A Pig," or her
psychotic yelling and shooting at Jim in trampolinist sketch. She seldom got
the chances to go as big this season, though a few things stand out, and as in
pieces like "Inside Out," she knew how to sell whatever she was given to
maximum effect. It's revealing, though, that the best shot she got all season
was getting to reprise Alfalfa opposite of Eddie Murphy's Buckwheat—a splendid
reminder of the goodwill she'd built up over the previous three seasons
despite Ebersol's present lack of interest in her capabilities. It's a shame
that her career seems to have quieted down since leaving the show, mostly
making minor and supporting roles in sitcom episodes; she could've been a
gifted character actor.
</p>
<p><b>SEASON GRADE AVERAGE: B-.</b></p><p><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">Follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>!</i></p>
<p>
<b>SPECIAL THANKS TO MY AMAZING PATRONS: </b>Andrew Dick, William Ham, PC,
John Wickham, and Jeffrey U.
</p>
<p>
If you'd like to support my work alongside these distinctly wonderful people,
<a href="https://www.patreon.com/mattalamode"><b>follow me on Patreon</b></a>! For
only $3 a month, you can read my reviews as they're written as well as
Patreon-exclusive coverage of other sketch shows and SNL-adjacent projects,
including Lorne Michaels' ill-fated 1984 SNL revival, <i>The New Show</i>! Plus, I'm gearing up to commence my Season 11 coverage; wouldn't you wanna be a part of that, you schaudenfreudic bastards?</p>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;"><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 1</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 2</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-reviewed-and-ranked.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 3</a><br style="font-style: normal;" /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/09/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 4</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/12/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 5</a></span><br style="font-style: normal;" /><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 6</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/03/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 7</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 8</a><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 9</a> | <b>Season 10</b> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 11</a><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 12</a></span></i></div>
<br />
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-53334770844859548082022-08-04T14:33:00.005-05:002022-08-04T14:35:35.646-05:00Patreon Announcement<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div>
<p>Hi everybody!</p>
<p>
My name is Matt, and I assume that if you're reading this, you know that I'm a
freelance writer who's latest project has been working through every single
SNL season systematically and writing reviews of every single episode along
the way.
</p>
<p>
What you might not know is that I have been writing online since at least
2011, and while I've historically been a bit uncomfortable with monetizing my
work—it's a passion project!—I am now, officially, a young adult with many
things they must do. I can't commit myself to my writing as easily as I used
to. Writing my SNL reviews is something I greatly enjoy, but it's also a
massive time investment; doing coverage for an entire season can take anywhere
between 1-3 months depending on how busy I am, and it makes up some of the
most lengthy and comprehensive writing that I have ever done.
</p>
<p>
That's where you can chime in! For only $3 a month, you can help support my
writing endeavors and get exclusive, early access to my SNL coverage as it's
written instead of having to wait for everything to come out at once! I'm also
planning some fun, exclusive content for behind the paywall, starting with
coverage of Lorne Michaels' doomed spiritual successor to SNL,
<i>The New Show</i>! Even if I'm very biased... that sounds like a pretty good
deal to me. I look forward to seeing you on the other side!
</p>
<p>
<a href="https://www.patreon.com/mattalamode"><b>https://www.patreon.com/mattalamode</b></a>
</p>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-45414907519916055472022-07-25T14:54:00.012-05:002023-10-15T01:04:44.601-05:00Saturday Night Live, Ranked and Reviewed: Season 9<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOQ1v9xLT0VOrVDpGVlswx5lNHRud7yJ42G6c9mls9QIXctsRt93L9kMw2Sgq3zDMCb613sI9SeUzj1xjOuYHdzGEUwnuSc95L1nRckZNQ-t6mBOxYsLzlsW5iFEl3RczeZEGrbvAz8GqVxHFCj2HtY8UqP1Q0r4hrEpn8QuEiLI-nyIVxoN0BoaBi/s3840/Screenshot%20(20778).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOQ1v9xLT0VOrVDpGVlswx5lNHRud7yJ42G6c9mls9QIXctsRt93L9kMw2Sgq3zDMCb613sI9SeUzj1xjOuYHdzGEUwnuSc95L1nRckZNQ-t6mBOxYsLzlsW5iFEl3RczeZEGrbvAz8GqVxHFCj2HtY8UqP1Q0r4hrEpn8QuEiLI-nyIVxoN0BoaBi/s16000/Screenshot%20(20778).png" width="518" /></a>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"> "Maybe we can turn off the lights and... see what
develops!"</span></i></b></span>
</div>
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<p>
And so, after a season that pushed the Ebersol era into an appreciative state of
stability, the boat starts to rock again. With Eddie Murphy maintaining one
foot out the door, missing shows and eventually leaving before the season's
even concluded, the show's future is yet again thrown into question. How will
it cope with the loss of its greatest star? And just how much will the hiring
of our only new cast member, Jim Belushi, give the show an extra jolt?
</p>
<p>
For my reviews of the previous season, Season 8,
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">CLICK HERE</a>! Now, without further ado, here are my thoughts on every episode of Season
9!
</p>
<span><a name='more'></a></span>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/08/83: Brandon Tartikoff / John Cougar (S9 E01)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It feels sort of insane to imagine a time where SNL didn't remotely fret about
who the person hosting was and how much of a "get" they would be, and I guess
that's the sort of security you have when you know that tens of millions of
people will tune in to see the cast... or perhaps, more appropriately, to see
Eddie and Joe. But alas, that's what makes Ebersol's era perpetually
interesting, and his decision to have the president of NBC, Brandon Tartikoff,
host the Season 9 premiere is certainly a unique choice. Not that it was a
suggestion that came out of nowhere: rather sweetly, Ebersol presented the
idea as Brandon was going through chemotherapy to cheer the guy up, giving him
something big to look forward to in the months of his recovery. (Brandon would
later reminisce that it was one of the biggest highlights of his career.)
</p>
<p>
With that being said, Brandon serves less as a center for the episode and more
as an emcee, occasionally participating in the fun but never playing anyone
but himself. Even so, he's a very good sport, letting SNL take snipes at NBC's
low standing most memorably in a pretaped segment where he runs around the
streets of New York hocking the network's embarrassing programming to
literally <i>anyone </i>willing to watch it. (At one point he shouts at a CBS
employee across the street through a megaphone to overpower his promotional
efforts.) Outside of that, there's a little meta sketch where he tries to
pitch some new, equally-bad projects to Eddie ("Eddie, I can make you bigger
than Gary Coleman." "I've got parts of my body that are bigger than Gary
Coleman.") and deflects the Whiners before realizing they're a Nielsen family,
which is a clever enough way to weave the characters into the premiere since
they remain, for some obscure reason, a major selling point.
</p>
<p>
Beyond those moments, though, this is an episode commandeered by the cast, by
which I mean Joe and Eddie, whom the night seemingly alters between. (Maybe
they were just eager to show off their new haircuts?) I suppose that's a fair
enough way to bring everyone back to SNL after the summer break, since we
can't rely on Brandon to do any heavy-lifting for as lovely as he is. With
that being said, none of their bits hit super hard. Eddie, despite saying he's
happy at the network in the aforementioned Brandon sketch, feels like he's
already got his foot out the door, though he's at least got the undying
charisma to get away with phoning things in. It's rather telling that Joe is
able to steal the spotlight away from him in their shared spotlight piece,
playing a very unwell Pokey alongside Eddie's curmudgeonly Gumby impression as
well as headlining a surprisingly fun and scathing post-monologue sketch as
James Watt preparing for his forced resignation. My favorite Joe segment,
though, was his crazy spokesperson ad for a discount food and clothing
warehouse, giving him the golden opportunity to rant wildly while throwing
bundles of grapes and clothing at the camera.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the cast is lucky to weave their way into the show, which they do
to very mixed effect. Tim holds his own against Eddie in the "Jazz Riffs"
sketch, a rare and enjoyable display of their chemistry, but it doesn't do
much more than give Eddie a chance to get some easy cheers from the audience;
Julia, meanwhile, only makes a single appearance in SNL's umpteenth Calvin ad
spoof. Surprisingly, it's Brad who walks away with the best sketch in the
whole episode, "Larry's Corner," hosting a talk show where the guests are all
of his childhood best friends. Brad is a difficult performer for me sometimes
because he has this overactive, manic energy that he just can't shake, but
it's deployed perfectly here as the scene devolves into sublime chaos, with
Gary making fart noises while Tim crawls along the floor, drinking milk
flowing out of someone's nose. It ain't smart, but it's the sort of loose
craziness that makes watching SNL a thrill.
</p>
<p>
Overall, this is a season premiere like most others. The stars are the stars,
and the rest do their best. Not the worst foot to put forward, but it's about
what you'd expect. <i>(Penned 6/01/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/15/83: Danny Devito and Rhea Perlman / Eddy Grant (S9 E02)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I'm usually skeptical of episodes with multiple hosts, but when it's two
people as wholesomely fun as Danny Devito and Rhea Perlman, it's hard to
really complain. I knew that they would bring it this episode and weave into
the show seamlessly; the bigger question is how much the show would take that
for granted. It's certainly interesting, if nothing else, to compare the
husband and wife team to their predecessors in the SNL hosting department:
Richard Benjamin and Paula Prentiss from Season 5. That was a better episode
all around and one of my favorites from the original era, but it also felt
more like the show having two entirely separate hosts who occasionally
interlocked. Danny and Rhea's hosting gig, on the other hand, finds the two
actively playing off of each other and demonstrating the intrinsic chemistry
that makes a husband-wife hosting team interesting in the first place, and you
know what? It works!
</p>
<p>
Both do get their own spotlights of course, which is fair enough, and they
serve as strong demonstrations of their individual strengths. Danny gets a
breezy but fun sketch as an author sharing all of the books he's published in
a year-and-a-half that quietly document his stalker obsession over someone in
his building, while Rhea carries out an even funnier and more clever piece as
a Spanish teacher who insists that the people around her speak to her in
Spanish even in the most dire of circumstances, culminating in her being held
at knifepoint and fatally wounded. ("I'm shot, call a doctor!" "En español?")
The night's at its most fun, though, seeing the two play off of each other
with the rest of the show's ensemble. Probably the biggest winner of the night
is the "Small World" sketch, casting them as a married couple who get trapped
with some other passengers in the middle of the titular Disney ride and become
victims of the park's sudden bloodlust. Every little detail falls into place
perfectly—Eddie's PTSD outbursts, the ride chanting "One down, four to go!"
after Tim gets electrocuted to death, Brad and Joe emerging in scuba gear and
shooting the berserk animatronics with guns—and the end result is just
beautifully-unfolding chaos.
</p>
<p>
On the other end of the spectrum, though, I also really appreciated the more
low-key sketch with Rhea, Danny, and Tim as nerdy autograph hounds bragging
about their collections and devotions to various celebrities while waiting for
celebrities behind a stage door. It's got some big laughs, especially from
Danny and Rhea's more gruff demeanor and the <i>incredibly random</i> Dick
Cavett cameo, but it's also got some really nice slice-of-life tinges that
serve all of the actors well and allow them to tout their strengths as
character actors. Considering how Season 8 seemed to dodge slice-of-life
material almost entirely, I'm hoping this piece is a sign of more to come.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the night offers varying degrees of spins on this era's most
reliable material. The latest Mister Robinson's Neighborhood sketch isn't one
for the books, and every beat feels well-worn by this point, but Eddie still
makes it work, and this installment—surprising Mr. Robinson with his bastard
child, which he immediately plans to sell on the black market—offers some new,
dark laughs. There's also the "What Would Frank Do?" sketch, a clever way of
finding a new angle with Joe's Sinatra impression by having Danny host a game
show centered around contestants guessing what Frank would do in various
situations. (It's amusing that the idea stemmed, perhaps with some spite, from
Joe's repeated assertions over things Frank would and wouldn't do to writers.)
I could do without Eddie's crowd-pleasing Dion as one of the show's
contestants, just as I could always do without Dion in general, but the
premise is strong enough that it floats along just fine.
</p>
<p>
Some things in the episode miss—poor Robin gets wasted in the one-joke,
labored funeral sketch, and Joe resuscitates his Andy Rooney routine to the
same effect as usual—but those misses are swift, and all the solid material
leaves behind a strong impression. It already feels like SNL is willing to get
a bit more daunting after its very streamlined, preceding season, so I hope
these trends continue to develop! <i>(Penned 6/02/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/22/83: John Candy / Men At Work (S9 E03)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Ever since my fairly mixed review of the Moranis/Thomas episode from last
season, people have been hounding me about watching SCTV, and I'm sure
expressing my general lack of awareness surrounding John Candy's body of work
will only serve to further those pleas. I know who John is by name only, and
while this hosting stint demonstrates that he is, unsurprisingly, an adept
comic performer, it doesn't inch me much closer to understanding his allure. I
think that comes down to the fact that, unfortunately, he doesn't have the
most remarkable outing. It brings to mind his brief cameo appearance in Season
7, performing (ugh) the "Wetback Weather Report"; he's clearly a performer in
his prime, but this is not prime material, and the episode is doing little to
help me create a connection to him as a performer.
</p>
<p>
I can see why this episode would appeal to some in how writerly and low-key it
is, which is usually a vibe I can get with... but it's almost
<i>too</i> low-key. It feels unenergetic, lacking the sort of ups and downs
that fuel a strong SNL episode. It's a lack of energy that even seems to stump
how Ebersol usually arranges his episodes; the closest things he has to
crowd-pleasing material is Eddie's weakest sketch in some time, casting him as
an old country doctor who futzes about with poor diagnoses and even poorer
medical treatments at a ski lodge. (It also goes on for eight minutes and
actively dismisses John for half of that runtime, which is bizarre.) The most
interesting pieces of the night also suffer as a consequence from that overall
lethargy; the phone booth confessional is an interesting idea that feels too
aimlessly-executed, amounting to a slice-of-life piece with little intention,
and the sketch casting John and newbie Jim Belushi as two guys behind bars who
treat their cell like a vacation home is cute and semi-captivating, but far
too long and similarly desperate for structure (as well as having some
obnoxious gay stereotypes thrown in for no reason).
</p>
<p>
Speaking of Jim Belushi... Jim Belushi!! It's rare to see a new cast member be
so deeply ingrained in their first episode, but I suppose that serves to
demonstrate how much confidence Ebersol has in the guy, which is fair
enough—he's a Belushi. But more than that, he's also an appreciably generous
performer, more capable of sharing scenes than his brother and earning laughs
as a team player rather than ever trying to steal the spotlight. His chemistry
alongside John helped a lot of those aforementioned scenes go down more
easily, and he fulfills an important niche in the show that the current cast,
strangely, has lacked: he's an everyman. I suppose it remains to be seen how
much he can really add to the show, since his heavy presence in this episode
ultimately does very little to lift it, but I'm happy to see the amount of
confidence the show has in him, as well as how polished he already comes
across.
</p>
<p>
There's a few other things in the episode that bump up interest a little
bit—the unwarranted return of Buckwheat in a admittedly-okay
<i>Children of the Damned </i>spoof, some insanely cheesy Men At Work
performances (even by Men At Work standards)—but in the end, there sadly isn't
too much worth clinging to. Maybe one day I'll understand John Candy more, but
today just isn't that day. <i>(Penned 6/27/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/05/83: Betty Thomas / Stray Cats (S9 E04)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Is there anything better than going into an episode with zero expectations and
discovering its strengths? It’s one of the greatest joys of my SNL
watch-through, and a lot of those weird, unassuming outings—your Ralph Naders,
Mary Kay Places, Richard Benjamins, and Strother Martins—have made for my
favorite revelations from this review project. The Betty Thomas episode, while
perhaps not at the dizzying height of some of those episodes, is no doubt a
worthy new addition to the line-up, occasionally faltering but always
energetic and ready to throw some wonderful insanity at you in a moment’s
notice.
</p>
<p>
Sadly, though, it’s a bit of a shame that Betty isn’t really responsible for
the episode’s success, for as amazing of a performer as she is. She's got
Second City background for Christ's sake! But this being the Ebersol era, the
hosts merely exist as garnish most of the time, and she's left to make the
most of her scarce moments in the limelight. Her biggest moment is in the
ho-hum Jane Fonda sketch, casting her as Fonda in a workout video for pregnant
woman, but Betty sells it with her vibrant energy and makes it the best sketch
it could possibly be. Elsewhere she's relegated to utility roles that don't
require much of her but she gives them everything she's got, and as a scene
partner she's always perfectly dialed-in, perhaps most memorably in the
"Perfectly Frank" sketch where Joe's advertising expert lusts after her
through subliminal messaging. Joe may have the main comedic thrust, breaking
up his speech with discreet sexual demands, but it's the character arc that
Betty quietly endures as she gets the hots for him which sells the whole bit.
</p>
<p>
It's not just a lack of presence that knocks Betty off-center in her own
episode, though. This one features a curious runner surrounding a fictitious
US invasion of Switzerland, attacked after the violation of one tourist’s
rights for being debatably “short-changed” 15 francs at a candy store. Like
last season’s legendary Buckwheat runner, this one is all about using a
ridiculous, silly scenario to deliver something scathingly satirical, and
while it’s not one for the history books—and indeed, I’ve never seen this
runner talked about—it’s still pretty fun every time the episode returns to
the idea. Perhaps most enjoyably, Joe’s Reagan impression is deployed to its
best effect in a long while as he gives a series of press conferences about
the crisis, showing a propaganda film to smear Swiss interests (yodeling is
apparently secret code) and later soliciting ideas via viewer male for
arbitrary new nations to invade.
</p>
<p>
This also marks the first episode of the season where Eddie's out of the
studio, starting a trend of him appearing on-and-off across the next few
months. His absences are covered with pre-recorded appearances from a special
"preview show," and this episode comes out swinging with one of Eddie's most
classic bits: "James Brown's Celebrity Hot Tub Party!" I always love seeing
Eddie trot out his energetic James Brown impression, and this is undoubtedly
that impression's finest use as Eddie shimmies around a hot tub and lets out a
soulful screech when he dips his foot in the water. ("TOO HOT IN THE HOT TUB!
BURNED MYSELF!") Short, succinct, brilliant. The Gumby piece later in the
episode is perhaps less so, though I at least appreciate using the pretaped
aspect of Eddie's arrangement to take on something a bit more ambitious, with
Gumby directing a biopic about his life and bossing around his impersonator
(played perfectly by Gary) while being generally misanthropic with his crew.
These bits have proven to be far more hit-and-miss with me than I would've
expected, but as the last Gumby sketch in Eddie's tenure, it's a pretty nice
installment to go out on.
</p>
<p>
Meanwhile, Eddie's absence has left Joe as the single most valuable person
in-studio, and the episode wastes no time to give Joe carte blanche. He plows
his way through the episode like Kate McKinnon's spirit animal, doughy and
pointless facial prosthetics abound. His Reagan impression is at least put to
fine work in the episode's runner, though I could do without the timely (?)
Lee Iacoca piece, and especially the cold open where he dons some truly
horrific blackface as Jesse Jackson. It's everyone else who rises to the
occasion more. Jim continues to stake out his place at the show, and this week
he discovers a wonderful scene partner in the form of Brad. They're two
performers who are at their best when they find the right way to channel
intensity, and the "You Win A Dollar!" sketch may stealthily be this episode's
best, casting Brad as the overeager host of a sadistic game show that finds
Jim's contestant fishing for a marble in a jar of razors and shoving his head
into a deep-fryer, all in the hopes of winning an impossible game for a prize
of one torn-up dollar. The Ebersol years love a mean-spirited sketch sprinkled
in here and there, and while that usually doesn't serve them too well, this
one's cruelty coalesces perfectly with a sense of gleeful absurdity. The two
also team up in an SNN segment where Jim runs through old cast catchphrases in
an attempt to endear himself to the audience, though it feels ill-conceited
considering he's already done a lot to prove his worth; he even scores a solo
piece here as a butch ballerina in a production of Swan Lake, and for as
barebones as the premise is, it's an excellent physical performance that kills
with the audience.
</p>
<p>
I wish I could like the last sketch, a showcase for Betty and the female cast
to dig their nails into the sort of broad characterization that the women of
SNL seldom got to do in this era, but the fact that said sketch premise
entailed them being trans women lamenting the fact that they can’t be manly men
anymore ensures that it’s a real rough watch. Even with that, though, this is
a remarkably solid episode as Season 9 marches forward without its biggest
star and plots what this new, Eddie-less show will look and feel like. Let’s
just say I’m not at all opposed. <i>(Penned 6/06/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/12/83: Teri Garr / Mick Fleetwood's Zoo (S9 E05)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I remember, when I was talking to my friend John about Teri Garr after her
very middling Season 5 episode, he mentioned that she was a rare host who
managed to helm an episode in three separate eras, with three entirely
different casts… and yet none of those episodes, dishearteningly, are very
good. It’s understandable why, in her first and final hosting gig, things
struggle; the show was gassed out and in desperate need of an identity on both
occasions. This one, on the other hand, has less of an excuse, though it’s
also undoubtedly the least trying of her episodes, which is perhaps the most
modest win she could get. Teri Garr gets to host the sort of Ebersol-era
episode that, aside from a few fun moments, passes through you like a ghost.
</p>
<p>
I don’t think there’s really any single factor I can “blame” for how humdrum
this episode feels. A little bit of it is the fact that Teri, while certainly
a good actor, can’t really perform with the sort of broadness that live sketch
requires, and the material doesn’t meet her half-way. At the same time,
though, this is an episode that has that very Ebersol quality to me in that in
so many of the night’s sketches, I can recognize where the humor is supposed
to be, and some part of my brain responds to it accordingly… but I don’t
laugh. I just acknowledge. And this episode, sadly, has a lot of that.
</p>
<p>
Fortunately, there’s still variety in that "not laughing but I get it" mold.
We get some very performance-driven pieces that don’t fully work, for
instance! Teri leads a sketch where the joke is her attempts to film a coffee
commercial become more and more frenzied with every ounce of caffeine, and
it’s not a bad conceit for a powerhouse performer. The issue is just the fact that
Teri simply <i>can't</i> do it, and the sketch doesn’t format itself well
to make the idea of her gradual decline funny. (It’s definitely the lesser of
Teri’s two coffee-centric SNL pieces.) Meanwhile, Joe helms a sketch that
retells the story of Lincoln’s assassination with a big revelation: Lincoln
was actually a massive prick! Joe’s fun, and he acquits himself well, but the
idea feels a bit easy while lacking the sort of comic reinvention—no jeers of
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_dRw62qVLs">“Suck my presidential cock, bitch!”</a>, really—that could further energize the idea.
</p>
<p>
On the other hand, there’s also a lot of not-quite-there sketches that exist
in a more conceptual, writerly space. I actually quite like the idea of Mary’s
big sketch in this episode, casting her as a nun who causes so many
miscommunications to her fellow sisters in the sarcastic advice she gives that
she’s dragging the name of her church down, but once the game of the sketch is
established, it immediately falls short of finding fun places to go.
Meanwhile, Gary helms a piece as a husband pleading with a grocery store
cashier that his wife is a witch who’s transformed him into a rabbit, and it
suffers perhaps the opposite issue: it’s a fully-realized scenario with a very
nice arc, but it struggles to be very stirring comedically.
</p>
<p>
The episode is wise to sprinkle in a few more pre-recorded Eddie segments,
which I assume will be the standard going forward; he lands another funny if
uninventive “Mr. Robinson’s Neighborhood” sketch, though those are fortunately
very infallible, as well as possibly his best Dion piece, however
characteristically fraught. They don’t do much to raise this episode up,
though, which is unfortunate. Everyone’s trying, but little resonates. As we
approach this upcoming string of exciting, comedy legend hosts (Jerry Lewis,
the Smothers Brothers, and Flip Wilson), let’s hope the episodes are a bit
more like Betty Thomas and a bit less like poor Teri Garr.
<i>(Penned 6/07/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/19/83: Jerry Lewis / Loverboy (S9 E06)</b>
</p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhmK0_FIbuhrsZVXR1nSxr8XG_nrmdPOxABWZgBVWVEi-_ZdRYVh0WtzRBYRNz1MT9SIugfAmSJ3tH9_PdtmKAcT8imkO0YOHbta-ncftUv0EOiqR4G23S_EcMHPPUFJHEnxhubHwcLP--yp_S7o-4B_Azn29xyBJhOVIBFW3DrIqSlki6DJ1e1QCC/s3840/Screenshot%20(20637).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhmK0_FIbuhrsZVXR1nSxr8XG_nrmdPOxABWZgBVWVEi-_ZdRYVh0WtzRBYRNz1MT9SIugfAmSJ3tH9_PdtmKAcT8imkO0YOHbta-ncftUv0EOiqR4G23S_EcMHPPUFJHEnxhubHwcLP--yp_S7o-4B_Azn29xyBJhOVIBFW3DrIqSlki6DJ1e1QCC/s16000/Screenshot%20(20637).png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
I don’t get Jerry Lewis. Maybe it’s because I’m not French. But also,
plausibly, he’s a figure who hasn’t quite withstood the test of time, his
entire comic persona built off of a shtick which feels borderline
incomprehensible to me now. I’d argue that he’s acquired if not for the fact
that he was one of the biggest comedians in his heyday, a fact that this
episode has no hesitancy in reminding you of. Here’s the thing: I don’t want
to feel disconnected from this episode. Even though this is a celebration of a
beloved figure that I have limited context of, that’s a genre of SNL episode
that I’ve found fairly infallible. Whether or not I have the greatest
understanding of someone like Sid Caesar or the Smother Brothers, their
episodes have a reverence that parlays into a fantastic combination of
sweetness and strength. This episode, though, has none of that. Instead, it’s
just… a lot of dicking around.
</p>
<p>
That shouldn’t immediately be the biggest issue. Some of my favorite episodes
of SNL so far have been the loosest and most chaotic. Joan Rivers just last
season, for instance, is another comic voice incapable of being diluted, but
the show managed to succeed because of it. This episode, meanwhile, risks
caving in at every turn due to the potency of Jerry’s presence and looseness.
Jerry actively just comes across as very non-committal and lacking in
professionalism, and at its worst, he becomes a detriment to the sketches that
are supposed to prop him up. But that’s another issue with this episode—none
of those sketches are all that good in the first place.
</p>
<p>
Half of his material seems like it was designed to really hammer in the
purported fun of watching him mess around with Joe and especially Eddie, back
in the studio after his two-episode absence. I get it; these two are stars,
and they’ve become popular for the Jerry Lewis impressions in their
repertoire, which are goofy enough that even I can enjoy them. But there’s
just something that feels off about it all. The monologue, which should be
absolutely magnetic, just comes across as an awkward gathering of three very
detached individuals: Joe pontificates on Jerry’s brilliance, Eddie responds
with an aloofness that wins the crowd, and Jerry shies away the attempts to
sincerely express gratitude while awkwardly trying to riff (something he does
all night to limited success). It’s far more fun watching the three of them
vamping in the 10-to-1 slot with their dueling Jerry impressions, which is the
closest the night gets to attaining what I think it was intending to, but even
then that’s lacking in anything close to substance. Eddie and Jerry do get to
team up in the most functional and written sketch of the bunch, casting Eddie
as a skydiving instructor who’s left to do damage control after his client
(Jerry) jumps out of the plane without a parachute, but that prompts the other
big issue with Jerry in this episode, who hackily screams his way through the
sketch without much true urgency: <i>he’s just not very good at this</i>.
</p>
<p>
Jerry Lewis is many things, but he’s simply not compatible with this format.
He refuses to ground himself in a performance, makes strange ad-libs that
create awkward pauses in the middle of sketches, and interrupts any semblance
of rhythm in his sketches by stifling laughter and leaving his poor scene
partners to patiently wait for him to subdue. Even Tim, the show’s greatest
off-the-cuff improvisor, seems aghast at what to do in both of his scenes with
Jerry. One, casting him as Jerry’s French voice dubber, is a fairly fun
vehicle for him to jump around and do his best impression, but Jerry faffs
about so much, interjecting in strange spots and pausing in others (all while
calling Mary, in the scene as another character, by her own name), that Tim is
basically left to power through everything in isolation. Later, the piece
where he interviews the founder of an American Jewish Football League as
played by Jerry finds him biding time while Jerry struggles his way through
giggles before most of the humor is even laid out. All-around, despite Ebersol
giving him more room than most hosts get in this era, Jerry does a rough job.
</p>
<p>
At the very least, there are some bright spots whenever Jerry steps back and
lets SNL be SNL. Something I find interesting is that this season seems to
embrace blackouts more, a development I forgot to mention in the previous
review; while that prompts a forgettable Jim piece at the end of the episode,
it also gives us another rendition of Larry's Corner. It's perhaps not as
memorable as the superb first installment from the season premiere, but it
still delivers a delightfully swift and efficient punchline and scores the
best laugh out of the night. There's also a decent sketch, with Jim hosting a
show interviewing people about when they first heard of Kennedy's
assassination... but none of them had heard of it until just before the show,
<i>if even that</i>. It risks predictability, but everyone's performances make
it work and it escalates to a wonderfully great out (Tim breaking into tears
at the news) which, for SNL, deserves a lot of respect. Lastly, there's one
genuinely great, full scene in the episode, the Thanksgiving sketch casting
Julia as a college kid whose new values challenge her parents at dinner. It’s
a nice, relatable piece that risks being cliché, but Julia and Jim power
through it with some strong performances. It’s Mary, though, who absolutely
steals the scene as Julia’s mother, readily accepting the umbrage her daughter
takes with her lifestyle and profusely apologizing for her values and general
existence without question.
</p>
<p>
Ultimately, this episode wounds up meeting a rather unfortunate outcome for
me. If you like Jerry, you might really enjoy this episode, but all it does is
leave me scratching my head, no closer to understanding his lasting appeal.
Sacre bleu! <i>(Penned 6/10/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/03/83: The Smothers Brothers / Big Country (S9 E07)</b>
</p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuBMjI4EezGpGmztazJJLDfs8tyLvkWzlPpeX0LLzLMhrySbI6mzLaZOjB79OwCMLxQG3UNIQPg4hhBIX8b1foviIfzfcv3NBOD0RsQPyIbDPzZ1u8-PaF3sA1qI19tvH44_o8tKbCrDO5O20XWtHu-F3ryC6fYsmYmHwvaPMTS_PeLyp8NTFCt23x/s3840/Screenshot%20(20640).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuBMjI4EezGpGmztazJJLDfs8tyLvkWzlPpeX0LLzLMhrySbI6mzLaZOjB79OwCMLxQG3UNIQPg4hhBIX8b1foviIfzfcv3NBOD0RsQPyIbDPzZ1u8-PaF3sA1qI19tvH44_o8tKbCrDO5O20XWtHu-F3ryC6fYsmYmHwvaPMTS_PeLyp8NTFCt23x/s16000/Screenshot%20(20640).png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
I fear that, as the patterns of this season are further establishing
themselves, Season 9 might be far more of a struggle than I hoped. A lot of
things are pre-empting those growing pains: the loss of Eddie, the
introduction of Jim, and tied to both of those, the battle for some new kind
of stability. That final point is what makes this season feel so interesting
to me, especially in comparison to Season 8; whereas that season plowed along
amicably with a frequent lack of ambition in favor of dishing out hits, the
sliding door vibes of this season makes it feel eager to find new things that
connect when all else fails. The show, once again, is thrown into
theoretically exciting, unpredictable territory, but the great misfortune is
that aside from a few strong outings, it doesn’t feel like the show is closer
to cracking the formula, and while this Smothers Brothers episode is a step in
the right direction after the last two difficult outings, it’s still nothing
too special.
</p>
<p>
Fortunately, unlike the last two episodes, this one’s difficulties are in no
part due to the Smothers Brothers. While their second hosting gig isn’t as
good as their first, it’s more indebted to the weaker material that's
presented than anything else. They’re at their best performing their classic
double act, and this episode’s greatest fortune is that it makes more room for
the two to play off of each other; the monologue, a sing-along that gets
repeatedly interrupted by Tom’s attempts to get a candid photograph of his
brother, is probably my favorite bit of theirs that I’ve seen on SNL, and they
also get a fun and catchy little performance of a Mason Williams arrangement,
sold comedically by Dick’s disinterested key-pressing and Tom’s intense
fixation on nailing his horn squeaks.
</p>
<p>
As with their last episode, though, we also see them incorporated into the
sketches, and strangely not too frequently as a duo. It’s a shame; I feel like
one of the enjoyable prospects of a dual hosting gig is seeing the two hosts
get to interact with each other in different sketches (see: Devito and
Perlman), but this gig tends to simply alternate the two, giving them each
about as much as Ebersol gives any of his hosts (like two sketches each). Tom
has a fairly decent turn as astronaut-turned-senator John Glenn, competing
against Eddie’s Jesse Jackson in a game show over who would be the better
hypothetical president, but something about it doesn’t fully work. He gives a
strong performance and makes good use of his guileless persona, but Eddie’s
attempt at the impression feels weak and some awkward dead spots at pivotal
moments cause the sketch’s most theoretically incisive moments to miss. Dick,
meanwhile, makes a walk-on appearance at the end of the decent garage band
sketch; it’s half-slice-of-life, half-discordant madness as the cast plays a
horrible rendition of “Gloria” that causes Dick’s Atlantic Records
representative to insist they immediately give up on the musical industry.
(It’s fairly predictable, though I liked the turn once he left with the band
conflating his lack of comment on some areas of their performance as good
signs.)
</p>
<p>
The rest of the night is a series of scraps, some fun and some cumbersome. The
episode actually has some really fun, unique framing, with the cold open
establishing the threat of heavy rains in the studio derailing the show as if
it’s a sports game, and having a later sketch be cut short by unexpected
rainfall is a perfect way to carry that little runner through the episode and
give things more of a unique flair. There’s also two particularly fun guest
spots at this iteration of SNN: Gary introduces the audience to his fully
grown-up, neglected Cabbage Patch Kid (“How was I supposed to accept being a
single parent at the age of three??”) and Tim faces off with his most hostile
audience yet with a particularly groan-inducing Jack Badofsky appearance. On
the flip side, though, this episode finds Jim’s presence on the show already
feeling tired and limiting, with one of his sketches casting him as a
flippantly anti-Semitic talk show host and the other casting him as a
television psychologist telling all of his guests that their dreams are about
their sexual desires for him. There’s room for a boisterous comedic voice on
the show, but these sorts of premises wear too thin and struggle to find an
angle beyond the sort of arrogance and poor taste that embodied the worst of
his brother’s tendencies. I know he’s an extremely capable performer from his
first two episodes as a cast member, and I want to see more of that sort of
charisma from him than stuff like this, and more of an effort to emerge from
the Belushi shadow; pieces like these just make him feel like an ill
substitute.
</p>
<p>
It’s sad that things in this episode don’t quite pop off, but at this point, I
suppose it’s not that surprising. Hopefully this season can get a better grasp
on its identity in due time. <i>(Penned 6/10/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/10/83: Flip Wilson / Stevie Nicks (S9 E08)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
During episodes like this, I start to become actively baffled by Ebersol's
reluctance to implement hosts into shows. I get it if it's someone who can't
be relied on too heavily, I suppose, though I think that's part of the fun of
SNL in the first place; along with being a week of sketch comedy with some of
the most highly-trained sketch performers around, it's also a sink-or-swim
spectacle for whatever host chooses to enter the gauntlet. When you have a
host like Flip Wilson, though, a then-living legend who has made his mark in
television history through sketch comedy, it makes no sense
that his SNL episode would opt to burn through its checklist of uses for him
and then forget he was ever there. Barring that disappointment, though, this
episode's able to maintain a decent energy throughout, and while it doesn't
live up to its immediate potential, it's a decent outing for this season all
the same and a solid note to send the show off on for the winter break.
</p>
<p>
In terms of Flip, he feels sort of old hat—hell, his monologue is a Polish
joke—though at least fun in that antiquity; if he's not the most adaptable
performer, he's still very good at what he does. A sketch like the airplane
bathroom attendant piece wouldn't work half as well without him being able to
channel magnitudes of energy to will over the lack of writing, and even if it
doesn't really get over, all the performers exit unscathed and earn their
laughs. The most notable part of the episode, surely, is him reprising his
Geraldine character, which is sort of... complicated... though I suppose that
just makes her presence in a Dion sketch all the more unsurprising. Seeing
Flip cross-dress and play a sassy black woman risks being nothing but
wince-worthy, though for all of those problematic undertones, he possesses the
agency and control as a performer to make it fairly fun all the same; the more
groan-worthy aspect of the sketches is simply the trademark homophobia that
permeates every Dion piece. I much preferred the more low-key sketch where
Gary is a shoe-tier whose sole client is Flip Wilson, which is far more
unassuming but presents Gary an opportunity to do some solid character work
while inviting Flip to play more at the show's level.
</p>
<p>
It's nice, too, that in Flip's disappointing absence, this is an episode that
still feels motivated to conjure up some pretty exceptional, hostless
material. Jim scores a particularly wonderful highlight with "Hello Trudy,"
anchoring a radio call-in show whose show only truly caters to the one titular
person who listens in every episode (Julia, submitting equally great work);
it's an incredibly simple but great piece, and it does a fine job of dragging the
show's poor guest (Joe) along on the journey, his increasing frustration
off-set delightfully by Jim's very patient rapport with his sole listener.
Meanwhile, Joe and Eddie have their final installment of Solomon and Pudge, a
recurring piece that I'll never tire of. It's the most thoughtful and
consistent use of the pair's chemistry, and even if there's something of a
predictable emotional element to it by the nature of its formula, the
sincerity in their performances always leaves them deeply affecting. Even
Robin gets a pretty fun little highlight this episode, anchoring a sketch
opposite Joe as two libidinous weirdos who spend their Christmas evening
engaging in endless foreplay that immediately fizzles out when they both
acknowledge that they're all talk and no action. Two other short pieces round
out the episode's slick line-up: Jim's "Crazy Weinstein" (great title),
casting him as a crazy spokesperson who's actually just... a crazy guy with no
wares to sell, and the nice, palette-cleansing "Subterraneans" sketch
concluding the episode, with Tim bringing several discordantly-singing subway
passengers together into a rather nice rendition of the Hallelujah chorus.
</p>
<p>
I would've loved to see Flip participate show more, and I found the few
opportunities that he had to play along with the cast to be very charming, but
it's a pleasant consolation prize that this episode is one of the sturdiest
and most consistent episodes we've had all season. There will be some
interesting changes once SNL returns from its holiday break—tonight also marks
the end of Brad's SNN tenure, being fired from the position by Dick, and
Eddie's lack of presence will keep becoming more and more felt until he
ultimately leaves in February—so it's nice to have one more outing where
everyone feels confident and assured before we enter the season's more
complicated territory.
<i>(Penned 6/30/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/14/84: Father Guido Sarducci / Huey Lewis & The News (S9 E09)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
What a strange, strange episode, though I suppose that’s where I placed my
expectations to some extent. I mean, it’s hard not to expect something a bit
different with the prospects of Don Novello hosting an Ebersol-era episode
in-character as Father Guido Sarducci, even if, admittedly, my expectations
weren’t too high that he would be any more of a presence in this episode than
most other hosts in this period. (To my surprise, he was actually pretty
ingrained, though we’ll get to that in a bit.) More than anything else, I was
interested in the potential effect that having such an influential writer from
the original era would have on this week’s material, whether that means
actively participating in the writing process, punching up jokes, or curating
a stronger selection of sketches than usual.
</p>
<p>
There are moments where that expectation comes into fruition, but for the most
part, this episode gets bogged down by something even more unexpected: an
extensive, call-in runner asking the at-home audience to dial for specific
Democratic candidates, with SNL allegedly being responsible for whoever the
Democratic nomination will be. It’s unsurprising that, for as heavily as this
episode is built on that idea, it’s seldom remembered; compared to the other
call-in stunts that get name-checked here (Larry the Lobster, the Andy Kaufman
vote), this one lacks novelty and becomes too labored. (I literally think at
least one sixth of this episode’s runtime is people reading off the phone
numbers to call for each candidate.) We do get a somewhat novel, host-specific
twist, with Sarducci disavowing his interest in the candidates and opening a
phoneline for ZZ Top to get the nomination instead, but that also leads to a
fairly predictable outcome: ZZ Top sweeps the competition. Hooray?
</p>
<p>
It's more interesting to see how much this episode tries to work Sarducci into
sketches, even if neither are classics; I really appreciated that creative
exercise, and Novello is so strangely charismatic that he wrings laughs and
depth out of what he’s provided. “The Man Who Loves to Swim,” for instance,
would be a bomb if not for the way that Sarducci tenses up and rejects every
advance women make on him by running off to the pool in quiet, sexual
frustration—something about his cadence lands that repeated punchline rather
adroitly. The slice-of-life sketch starring Sarducci at the end of the night
is far better, and the sort of thing I was hoping to see Novello advocate for.
It’s far from perfect, casting Jim as a TransEastern Airline employee whose
job is to socialize with Sarducci as he waits for his delayed flight, but it
gives Jim a chance at a more low-status and empathetic character (which he
plays well!), and seeing his rapport build with Sarducci as the two connect in
their philosophical musings is very sweet, even if the ending doesn’t quite
connect.
</p>
<p>
There are a few other highlights in the episode, though nothing blows you
away. Despite Eddie’s absence, we get a pretty fun if not fully warranted
Buckwheat sketch where he appears as a ghost to protect Mary’s always-fun
Alfalfa from sensationalist publishers who want him to pen a grimy exposé on
his late friend. It works mostly just because Eddie’s Buckwheat impression
intrinsically works, even with the lack of commitment we see so much this
season—it almost makes his repeated utterances of ghostly “Oooo”s more
funny—though the sketch’s greatest contribution is Gary, cast as Buckwheat’s
translator, going back and forth between his very professional demeanor and
some flawlessly-executed Buckwheat nonsense whenever he has to relay the
conversation. (It’s nice seeing Eddie and Gary play off of each other, and
alongside the Gumby sketch from a bit earlier this season, I’m glad they’re
getting some fun spotlights together.) Julia also submits one of her best
performances so far in her tenure, doing an impression of Linda Ronstadt in an
incredibly vicious takedown of her purported irrelevancy and desperation for
attention; the reference is sort of lost on me, but Julia commands the stage
perfectly and has, inevitably, an amazing singing voice.
</p>
<p>
I think that if we didn’t have the obtrusive runner weighing this episode
down, it could’ve been something a lot more interesting, but those little
cracks of more engaging and successful material help carry things to the
finish line. There’s just one too many gimmicks in this episode, I suppose.
<i>(Penned 6/11/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/21/84: Michael Palin and his mother / The Motels (S9 E10)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It speaks to how much of a sly tactician Ebersol is that he's glommed onto
Michael Palin. While I've only been particularly impressed by one of his
hosting gigs before, he's clearly someone who's down to step in and entertain
the whims of the week; if he doesn't seem to elevate like fellow Python host
Eric Idle, he happily cooperates. He's more into actualizing than cultivating,
which makes it feel like his episodes could go any way. As his final hosting
gig, and one in an era that hasn't always been the best at host utilization, I
was somewhat apprehensive of how this episode could go, though pleasantly, it
was a satisfying evening, packing in some fun weirdness, writerly showcase
pieces, and taking a step forward from last week's bogged-down episode to get
more of a pulse on the future of the season.
</p>
<p>
First of all, and most strikingly, this is—surprise!—another gimmick episode
of sorts, double-billing Michael Palin and his 80 year-old mother Mary as dual
hosts. I say "gimmick episode of sorts" because she's only really there as a
prop for the monologue and to introduce the musical guests alongside her son,
but she's a fun presence all the same; of the few words she actually gets out
in the monologue, all cozied up in an armchair with a book and some knitting
equipment, her immaculately chaste delivery of "Now, go ahead and be funny"
might be one of the night's shining moments. Elsewhere, though, this is
certainly Palin's night, and he powers his way through a mix of material that
ranges from sharp to dull, all with the same amount of spirit. His best moment
is most certainly in the 10-to-1, portraying a Mississippi boat captain having
a pivotal conversation with a young Mark Twain (Gary); it's an absurdist word
stew that packs all of its delightful one-liners into one high density,
delightful package, and Gary and Michael make for a particularly strong team.
A few other bits are just fine, enlivened by his professionalism though
certainly with room for improvement. The "man on chain" sketch, with him
trying to sell Brad and Robin on renting an apartment that randomly includes a
feral man chained to a hole in the wall (Jim), feels like it should work
better than it ultimately does, though there are some fun little laughs
throughout ("You'll find many of your best apartments have men on chains!"
"Oh, no they don't!" "No they don't, you're right, I panicked."); a later
sketch where he advocates for the rights of plankton is similarly concise with
its premise, if perhaps uncomplicated.
</p>
<p>
Everything else he anchors is fairly middling, if fleetingly interesting
(including a three-part runner about an ill-conceived high-tech game show, and
a real rough sketch about him owning a mutton franchise restaurant). I'd
rather turn my attention to the episode's other unique offerings. SNN,
strangely, has been very truncated; with Brad Hall dethroned as anchor, this
episode opts instead to have special reports from regular guests interspersed
across the night. It's hard to say how well it works, and it does feel like
Ebersol greedily gutting the show down to its bare minimum essentials, but Joe
and Tim are fun enough doing their sports guy and Jack Badofsky segments,
respectively. Eddie, AWOL again, submits a particularly fun "Mister Robinson's
Neighborhood" segment, teaching kids about ransom while bargaining over the
phone for the pet dog he stole. The more amusing pretaped entry to the night,
though, and the first of this era's imaginative, in-house pretapes, casts Jim
as a shoplifter who manages to shove the entirety of a store's goods down his
clothes. Jim is a perfect, sleazy everyman, and Gary as the store clerk lends
just the right underplayed guilelessness; the parting visual of Jim leaving
the store with a hulking blob of stolen goods protruding awkwardly out of his
clothes, and the closing button with Tim, are particularly strong and make me
excited to see what other inspired pretapes this era has to offer. Lastly,
"That's Okay" is swift, economical, and probably one of the best live sketches
of the night, casting Joe as a host who eschews guests from displaying their
extraordinary talents... until Brad makes the bold claim that he can hammer
three nails into his skull.
</p>
<p>
It took me a while to figure out how to land on this episode, because there's
about as much that works as there is that doesn't, but in the end, things get
over pretty well. Michael Palin does his thing, and he does it well, but it's
the show's efforts without him that make this entry stand out the most.
<i>(Penned 7/15/22) </i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/28/84: Don Rickles / Billy Idol (S9 E11)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
With the spectacle of a live show, you almost always want one of two things.
The most natural source of excitement is just being able to witness something
so precise, to watch something where the live aspect enhances and awes but
never serves to break the illusion of the world being created—it is to have
your disbelief suspended. There's some part of you, though, deep down, that
wants to see what happens when things go sideways. What happens when things go
off-script when everyone is watching? The Don Rickles episode isn't just a
whole lot of that, it's the <i>end-all be-all</i> of fuckin' around, so
viciously chaotic that whatever the initial goal of almost every sketch in the
show was ends up being swallowed in the madness. Thank god it's fun as shit.
</p>
<p>
All of that, of course, is indebted to Don Rickles, who makes it incredibly
clear early on that we're winging this entire episode. He's one of the only
guys who could make that work, rather than letting the show cave in on itself
in the same way as a Milton Berle or a Jerry Lewis (to a lesser, but still
egomaniacal extent), because he knows how to welcome everyone else in on the
joke. It's pretty much the most basic principle of his entire comedic outlook.
I can't say exactly how well he works for me doing his shtick, simply because
he seems to get a lot of passes to say outrageously dated things, though his
monologue is at least easy to soldier through, in all of its ten minutes,
because there's something infectious about how Don's fueled by the people around
him. It's the same energy, too, that he applies to every sketch that he
appears in, always ready to veer everyone off-course at a moment's notice and
leave his scene partners and the audience on the edge of their seat.
</p>
<p>
SNL as a show isn't really built for someone like him (the closest I can think
of is how they used Joan Rivers, but even then she warmly embraced the writing
rather than ripping it apart), but it certainly opens its doors to the
trampling. This episode is <i>loose</i>, and every sketch feels primed to
collapse. I mean hell, we start with an "I Married A Monkey" installment,
which is ironically probably the most Don stays on-script the entire night!
All of the cast readily accepts that they could be thrown curveballs at any
minute, and most of them smile or burst out laughing as he sets their sketches
on fire, but most serendipitously, Don finds a kindred spirit in Joe, who goes
on to have maybe the best episode of his entire tenure. Everyone in the SNL
cast comes from an extensive sketch and improv background and they're
acclimated to more grounded ad-libs and riffing as necessary, but Joe... he's
the only one who will completely give up the ghost, wink at the audience, and
embrace things collapsing around him, and while that can be annoying
elsewhere, it makes him a perfect foil here. The "Witness Relocation Center"
sketch is the crown jewel of their partnership; it's ostensibly a sketch where
he and Jim present how they'll help reinvent and protect Don's identity (in
comedically inept ways), but as the sketch goes on it becomes more and more
about watching them smack each other around and be ruthlessly antagonistic
with little regards for however the script was ever supposed to go. (When Joe
starts trying to ad-lib with him, Don immediately snaps "I'll do the
funny stuff, you just do the regular lines!") In the heat of the moment, Joe
gives him a slap for every word he says, ending his sentence with a smooch;
after standing there momentarily stunned, Don immediately collapses to the
ground. Priceless shit.
</p>
<p>
Of course, though, I'd be remiss not to mention that a full night of sketches
like these... it's sort of a blessing and a curse. It's enchanting to watch
Don work as hard as he can to veer the show off-course, but throughout the
night I just couldn't help but think about how weak all of the material would
be if he wasn't derailing it. A premise like "Don of Verona" doesn't even
really work as a fail-safe for Don to riff on because the idea is so
threadbare; it's just the age-old, hypothetical scenario of a character set in
a time period and a specific context that they exist on the complete outside
of. If it wasn't for the insanity of Don completely breaking
<i>everything</i> and calling out Joe for slapping him around in the previous
sketch, it would be a sketch that offers nothing at all—a testament to Don's
larger-than-life presence and perpetual entertainment value, but something of
an indictment of the material for needing him to lift it up. "This Is Your
Afterlife" feels like the best chance that we get to see that weird disparity;
whenever Don isn't taking control, it's relentlessly boring as Tim drones
about therapy and Mary whines about "the aaalimoney," only suddenly bursting
into vibrant colors when Gary needs to pull the sketch back from Don ("You're
doing a great job, I dunno who you are but I'm gonna see that your on the show
every week!") and when Joe resurfaces for some more roguishly meta nonsense.
(Don chasing after Joe when he exits and smacking him as he climbs down the
ladder of the set is a stunningly hilarious capper to the whole night.)
</p>
<p>
In the end, I think that's the one thing holding the show back, but make no
mistake: this episode is a triumph, even if it falls just short of being a
perfect episode for me that marries the exciting live energy with compelling
writing. Kudos, forever, to Ebersol for letting the show fall apart like this
from time to time. Of all of the strange decisions that he's made, reminding
us that anything can happen and injecting some danger into the show is perhaps
one of his greatest revelations. <i>(Penned 7/21/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/11/84: Robin Williams / Adam Ant (S9 E12)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I must confess that my familiarity with Robin Williams is very limited. I
mostly know him from the later stages of his career, and for his more
empathetic and nuanced turns in films like <i>The Birdcage </i>or
<i>Dead Poets Society</i>. Subsequently, I didn't expect him to be as much of
a whirlwind as he was here; I knew he had a lot more zaniness to his act, but
his persona here feels teeming with some sort of coke-tinged, Steve Martin
whackadoo energy, overpowering every other performer in his commitment to the
nonsense he was presented. Fortunately, though, this was the sort of episode
that seems predicated on him being in that position. Ebersol goes all in on
Robin, and the result is one of this season's more solid and impressive
outings.
</p>
<p>
There's just something to be said about how much of a force of nature Robin
is, as well as how much his talents lend themselves to a sketch comedy format.
While his energy is comparable to someone like Joan Rivers, he's far more
interested in character work than dedication to some singular voice, and that
lends the episode a wonderful sense of variety. Sometimes, these sketches
don't quite work—the mime roommate sketch opposite of Brad just can't quite
tap into the potential of its premise despite offering Robin's most animated
performance of the episode, and the baby sketch feels strangely scattered even
though everyone has solid characterizations—but that uniqueness to every
premise, and how much each of them really try instead of feeling like sleepy
time-fillers, lends them a likeable vibe all the same.
</p>
<p>
Fortunately, too, this episode has a lot of legitimate winners. One of my
favorites was the strange "Firing Line" sketch, with Robin's William F.
Buckley interviewing Eddie about "the sudden flammability of [black people] in
the 80s"; the context of it being about Michael Jackson's tragic Pepsi
commercial accident lends it perhaps a mean-spirited tone, but it manages to
go beyond that starting place into truly loopy and absurd territory, all while
both Robin and Eddie submit flawless, heavily-detailed performances. (The
button at the end with Eddie starting to spontaneously burst into smoke, too,
ends this sketch absolutely perfectly: "Help, Tito!") Robin also scores a win
with the strong Siamese twins sketch, where he and Jim are two brothers
conjoined at the hip who get in heated, personal fights while trying to pick
up women at a bar. It risks being a sort of iffy and easy premise, but Robin
and Jim have such fun chemistry, and the scene is peppered in with so many
delightfully ridiculous details even beyond its central conceit—Robin is a
children's book author, while Jim "hunts down Nazi war criminals" and forces
Robin to come along with him to Argentina for it—that it never loses an
element of surprise.
</p>
<p>
It's also nice that the pieces Robin isn't a part of work incredibly well,
too; if anything, they serve as a nice way to break up the show from his bouts
of hyperactive energy. Alongside "Firing Line," the "Rock & Roll And Then
Some" sketch cements this episode as one of Eddie's best at this weird,
one-foot-out-the-door stage of his tenure. It's one of his finest pair-ups
with Joe, who interviews him as he makes claims about being one of the
long-forgotten, original Beatles, Clarence. Perhaps there's not much to the
writing, but it's so silly and so perfectly catered to Eddie's voice (hearing
Beatles songs with Eddie repeatedly interjecting "man" after every line is
comedic alchemy), and for once this season, he feels very committed, selling
his threats to the other Beatles and to Joe's disbelieving host to great
effect. We also get yet another delightful Andy Breckman sketch, and in tandem
with his other pieces so far this season ("Larry's Corner"; "You Win A
Dollar!"), he's proven to be one of the most reliable, rising voices of this
era. This one, a talk show hosted by Mary where she interviews one person who
talks on a 30 second delay (Tim) and one person who talks 30 seconds ahead of
time (Julia), is prime Breckman territory, at once both insanely sharp and
artfully stupid, and it gets the sort of delightful rise out of the audience
that further exemplifies Breckman's flawless batting average.
</p>
<p>
There's a smattering of other sketches that deserve mention if only because
they hold this episode back—weird, baffling slithers of ideas like Tim's
brownface Gandhi as a trucker, or Mary and Robin Duke as a female rock duo who
are ugly, and that's every joke about them—but the uniform strength of the
pieces that work, as well as Robin William's engaging performances, fuel this
episode with the sort of vitality I wish Season 9 were able to tap into more
often. At least, in that scarcity, episodes like this one feel extra special.
<i>(Penned 6/21/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/18/84: Jamie Lee Curtis / The Fixx (S9 E13)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It's an interesting footnote that, aside from Bill Murray, Jamie Lee Curtis is
the only host from the infamous Season 6 to come back and host the show a
second time. Part of that, admittedly, is because their host selection started
to scrape the rocks at a certain point, and I doubt anyone ever really wanted
to see Sally Kellerman or David Carradine try hosting again, but I think it
speaks to Jamie's gameness that she'd accept the opportunity to return, not
even in hopes of scoring a better episode but simply because it's an
incredibly enjoyable time for her. Hell, Jamie even feels like an active
component of this episode, a rarity for someone hosting in the Ebersol era who
doesn't even have a comedy background! That helps give this episode a bit more
of an amicable feel, which is nice, because a lot of the material doesn't
quite rise to the occasion.
</p>
<p>
For the most part, there's just a strange, off energy to this episode, even if
the cast, for the most part, works as hard as they can to combat it. There are
a couple of more obvious suspects for that gassed-out feeling. First, for some
reason, is that this episode contains three repeated pretapes to pad the night
out, one being the inexplicable re-airing of "Prose and Cons" after two
seasons, a bafflingly un-slick addition to the show as if there is anyone
watching the show at this point who doesn't know who Tyrone Greene is. This is
also an episode that very heavily sells itself around the fact that Eddie
Murphy is present, a fact that gets shouted-out in both the Rappin' Jimmy B
number up top and forms the basis of the monologue... but this is possibly one
of the most underwhelming nights of Eddie's entire tenure. There's a strange
symmetry, in a very roundabout way, for Jamie Lee Curtis to host both Eddie's
first credited episode in S6, where he's super green and eager, and one of his
last in S9, where he could barely give a shit that he's there. Not that what
the night offers him gives him much incentive to care, really; aside from
a straight role in a later sketch, his one highlight piece, "Jake's Video
Hut," feels like a half-baked Eddie and Joe pair-up that prays that their
sparks can carry the lack of writing across. It sadly doesn't.
</p>
<p>
Even beyond that, though, this isn't an episode where too much works, despite
no shortage of variety. Joe's Reagan work-out sketch, where the only jokes
seem to be that he's old and hard of hearing, is so toothless that even the
audience can't give it any laughs; the sketch shared between Jamie and Jim as
two actors doing a dialogue rehearsal of a sex scene lacks much purpose or
variation. Jamie also gets to cut enjoyably loose in a few sketches, though
not to any great effect: aside from an animated make-out session with Gary,
the second installment of El Dorko retraces the original too much to feel
warranted, and the Halloween musical sketch, "Heart Tartare," is
nimbly-performed but too underdeveloped. A few things rise more to the top
(Brad's gleefully tortured Pete Best impression, Julia's tour de force
performance in "The Julia Show"), but there's one true runaway victory here:
Andy Breckman's wonderful "Tag" sketch, casting Jim as a man whose life is
turned upside-down when a mysterious stranger crawls through his window and
tags him. It's a great display of Jim's ability to play lower-status,
empathetic characters that the audience wants to root for, as well as being a
wonderful showing for Ebersol's increased interest in the film department.
Being able to take the sketch premise beyond the studio grants it a fantastic,
epic scale as Jim roams the streets of New York, disheveled and
purposeless, until he's finally able to pass the curse onto another
unfortunate soul.
</p>
<p>
In the end, this episode feels like a perfect representation of where SNL is
at right now—a confusing crossroads. Without being able to lean as hard on
Eddie and Joe anymore, the show's trying to figure out what it <i>can</i> lean
on: the rest of the cast? The host? The film department? Hopefully, in this
final stretch of Season 9, we'll start to see a bit more clarity. <i>(Penned 6/22/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/25/84: Edwin Newman / Kool & The Gang (S9 E14)</b>
</p>
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<p>
Did retired newscaster Edwin Newman just host the best episode of the season?
Against all odds... he might have. Ebersol is all about weird, but most
importantly, calculated risks, which leads me to believe that perhaps he knew
better than the rest of us that Edwin wouldn't just be compatible with the
show but a sturdy and captivating anchor (pun fully unintended). Most gimmick
hosts just stay in their little corner, occasionally woven into sketches but
with their presence being the full extent of the novelty; Edwin, on the other
hand, is in it to win it, and by god, he gives it his all in all of his
understated glory.
</p>
<p>
It's immediately striking and somewhat surprising just how much confidence the
show has in Edwin, but as the night rages on, it becomes obvious how warranted
that confidence is. He's far from inessential in the same way that most hosts
this era simply get slotted into utility roles. Instead, he's the nucleus,
with so much of the episode's material predicated on his ability to execute
it... and he dos so with aplomb. Sometimes, all Edwin has to do is read his
lines, because his deadpan voice lends itself so perfectly to comedy; a sketch
like "Urban Answers" is such a hoot for the simple fact that hearing Edwin
exercise his elevated vocabulary while dressed up as a rival gang member is
brilliantly obtuse. (His delivery of, "I am prepared to fillet you, if
necessary," while brandishing a knife was the undeniable moment of the night
for me.) But Edwin is also capable of carrying so much more, and the show is
smart to offer Edwin more involved pieces to sink his teeth into. I wouldn't
think that he could pull off a sketch like "How High The Noon," effectively a
Wild West-themed variant of Nate Herman's Mark Twain sketch earlier this
season, but somehow Edwin is as good as Michael Palin is at dispensing the
absurdist nonsense, if not better; whereas other hosts might overact or lean
too much into certain punchlines, his aloofness, so lacking in desperation,
allows every single punchline to land with laser precision. His best
performance of all, though, is in the fantastic "Face the Press" sketch,
putting him in a panel of reporters tasked with questioning Jim's terrifying,
mafioso Secretary of Labor apointee who <i>immediately</i> dispenses of the
other two panelists by murdering them. It ends up becoming a masterclass
performance for Edwin, tasked with carrying the entirety of the scene on his
shoulders as he anxiously attempts to beat around any prospective questions
and stall for as long as he can, his life hanging in the balance. There's
always a realism to how Edwin carries himself, and this particular sketch
offers him the most room to channel that into legitimately great, believable
acting.
</p>
<p>
This also marks the final episode for Eddie, a deeply bittersweet occasion
that only serves to grant this episode even more specialness, and for once he
seems particularly invested in savoring his final visit to the studio as a
cast member even if his contributions are a somewhat mixed bag. Dion, of
course, is a sketch I could always do without, though having the recurring
character find the end of his journey as a make-up artist at SNL is a nice
little bit of metaness; his James Brown reprisal is also pretty much just
crowd-pleasing squeals and vocalizations, though he sells it as expected. Far
more enjoyable is the reprisal of Eddie's Jesse Jackson impression, less
because the impression's good (it's as rough as before) so much as it gives
Eddie a chance to belt out one last silly song on the show: the fantastic
"Hymietown," a silly bit of topicality that, indebted to Eddie's endless
charms, proves quite transcendent all the same. His final contribution to the
show finds him palling alongside Joe, just as he did when he made his debut
only three years before, as two curmudgeonly old men reminiscing on the olden
days when you could get anything for a nickel. There's not necessarily a lot
on the page, but they sell it as they always do, so playful that they start to
fuck up their lines, ad-lib ("You ever notice I look like Al Franken in 50
years?"), and time out before reaching the actual written conclusion of the
piece. For once, the sloppiness just makes it all the more charming, and
that closing image of the two laughing in their final moments of shared
screentime, Joe leaning on Eddie's shoulder, is enduringly sweet. I'll miss
these two together.
</p>
<p>
There are a few other fun novelties to this episode that only serve to
strengthen my appreciation of it. I'd be remiss not to mention the great "News
Bar" sketch, which starts somewhat slow only to hit a brilliant little pivot
point. When Edwin makes a deal with Dan Rather that he could turn any regular
Joe into a great news anchor, they approach the bartender, who responds with
enthusiasm and turns to the camera: "That shouldn't be too hard, I used to
read the news on <i>Saturday Night Live</i>. I'm Brad Hall." If this is the
consolation prize that Brad gets for being booted from the show's recurring
news segment, it's a damn charming one, with Edwin drilling him through
several news stories that they sing <i>My Fair Lady</i> style. Speaking
of SNN, too, we get to have Edwin take over the news desk, where he kills it
to I suppose no great surprise; even so, making that perennial dead spot feel
palatable is no small feat, and he sells the running joke of him refusing to
deliver punchlines because he's so uninvested in the stories perfectly.
Lastly, Kool & The Gang are in the building, powering through some
energetic, sunny performances of "Joanna" and "Celebration"—what heartless
soul could possibly hate that?
</p>
<p>
At the end of this joyous episode, I really just had one question: where does
the show go from here? It's clear that, with Eddie gone, the show has some
changes it has to make, and in the upcoming six episode trek leading up to the
wildly reinvented Season 10, I'm curious to see how well SNL is able to adapt
or evolve. As it stands, though, this episode is explosively fun, and perhaps
all of its successes in lieu of Eddie suggest we're not in truly worrisome
territory in the first place. <i>(Penned 7/24/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">3/17/84: Billy Crystal / Al Jarreau (S9 E15)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
There's something strangely foreboding about the first episode after Eddie's
departure from the show being hosted by Billy Crystal, and it's not just
because that exchange has put us in the awkward position where Billy is the
most qualified person to do a Sammy Davis Jr. impression. Whether intentional
or not at the time, this hosting gig presents Billy with a trial that he
carries so easily that it's not hard to see how he'd become one of the leading
voices of Ebersol's decadent, climactic Season 10. There's just a minor issue
with all of that, and perhaps a personal one: I don't know how much this
episode has convinced me that Billy being an SNL fixture is worth being
particularly excited about.
</p>
<p>
He's certainly not bad. Billy displays more ease than any host we've seen in
some time, not just in the sense of being able to conduct the show but in his
<i>sheer command</i> of it. You can tell he absolutely adores SNL, and that
it's a personal honor for him to be able to host an episode, though it's
something he takes with less humility than ego. And that's part of the
issue: there is nary a performer more indulgent, and who gives himself more of
a pass to do whatever he deems fit, than Billy. His likability, thus, is
dependent upon the writing he's given. He'll carry material no matter what,
but it's unfortunate that most of the things he embraces feel tinged with
arrogance and an overall sentiment of, "If I can do it, why shouldn't I?"
</p>
<p>
Well, hypothetical Billy, because all of your ethnic caricatures are
questionable as hell, and I guess that's something I have to reconcile with.
Perhaps most significantly, this episode marks the debut of his two most
infamous impressions, Sammy Davis Jr. and Fernando Lamas. I can give him
slightly more leeway with Fernando, I guess, even though his debut
here—hosting a characteristically uninteresting installment of Saturday Night
News and exclaiming that everything is "Mahvelous!"—doesn't fill me with much
excitement for the character. It's just a shallow victory to see Billy doing
an impression that doesn't involve him coating his face in greasepaint. That
takes us to Sammy, which... I don't know, man. I know that Billy got the
blessing of Sammy and his family for doing the impression, and it's an
impression that's more focused on his Jewish faith (which Billy is, obviously,
qualified to joke about), but it still comes across as disconcerting, with
Billy exploiting the leeway he's been given. At least it's not purely hacky, I
suppose, though Billy does give us a taste of his love for the lowest common
denominator with a Herve Villechaise impression, the only joke being that he's
short, stupid, and I guess ethnically-ambiguous enough that Billy got a little
chub.
</p>
<p>
With that being said, Billy can also be very good, and those instances provide
some reassurance. The "Winston University" sketch is, by far, the best-written
and performed piece of the night, casting Billy as the representative of a
"college" which is actually a front for parents' money and a four-year
vacation for its "students." As with every Andy Breckman piece, it's rich in
simple but effective details, but it's Billy's memorable, repeated assertions
that if anyone reveals the university is fake that "We will find you, and we
will kill you" which give the more goofy premise an enjoyably dark edge. He's
also quite good in his monologue, unsurprisingly, telling stories of his
childhood and puberty that allow him to use his knack for story-telling and
inhibiting characters in an arena that he has more of a right to explore: his
own life.
</p>
<p>
A few other contributions from the cast, in lieu of Billy, round the night
out, though none are particularly amazing. One of Eddie's last pre-recorded
sketches finds its place here, and it's perhaps unsurprising that it didn't
appear earlier. The premise of Tim and Robin realizing they forgot to let a
Jewish family out of their attic 40 years after WWII ended makes for a
hilarious twist, but there's nowhere for it to really go once they're actually
in the attic, coasting by from some easy laughs (Mary's 54 year-old having
teenaged horniness; Eddie's grumpy Jew voice) rather than truly escalating.
Mary also gets a lot of really nice moments across the episode, which feels
somewhat rare: she helms the enjoyable (if somewhat esoteric) St. Patty's
Day/Purim cold open, gets to do a goofy Pee-wee impression in the quick "Hung
Like Me" bit, and shines in the short, faux-pretentious "The Womb" pretape as
Julia's mother. (I read somewhere that it became a notable piece of camp that
played in some gay bars around the time, which doesn't surprise me too
much—Julia and Mary imbue their characters with wonderfully haughty
auras.)
</p>
<p>
That there are glimpses of a Billy Crystal that I liked in this episode gives
me hope that his role in Season 10 will have some wiggle room for enjoyment,
but for the most part, it's hard to take this episode as anything beyond a
polite warning. Some things work, some things don't, but either way, be
prepared for more... <i>(Penned 6/23/22) </i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">4/07/84: Michael Douglas / Denience Williams (S9 E16)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
The Ebersol pretape mania begins. If the previous episode, with its emphasis
on soon-to-be-cast member Billy Crystal, seemed to paint half the picture for
what Season 10 will be like, this one paints the other half: it's a fairly
unremarkable episode salvaged by its extensive focus on pre-recorded material.
This is a very hard one to assess, and while it's plagued with issues, dead
spots, and a fairly unimpressive host performance, I admired the show's
interest in reinvention. They've reached near the bottom of the heap with
Eddie's pre-recorded material, and they've taken it as a challenge to conjure
up something new that can serve as fallback life force. To Ebersol's credit,
it kinda works out in the end.
</p>
<p>
It's an episode of two halves, though, and it's impossible to simply express
this episode's positive qualities when they're pretty balanced by its overall
difficulties. I was interested in seeing Michael Douglas host after his father
did a very charismatic job of carrying a forgettable S5 stint, but inevitably,
that ease doesn't run in the family. He's not a bad host, and he's certainly
excited to be there—perhaps a bit <i>too</i> excited, as he slams a glass cup
into his face in the heat of the moment of one of his sketches and rides the
rest of the episode out with a gash on his forehead—but excitement and
capability are two different things. Live comedy is hard, and that's okay; the
issue is simply that Michael can do very little to put over the mostly
disinteresting array of live material that his episode consists of. Among his
roles: a theater casting agent who gets sexually-aroused by an auditioner
(Mary) pretending to be 7 (deeply uncomfortable), a man who lives a tortured
existence underscored by inescapable background music (the one where he gashes
his forehead, so he's into it), and as guest anchor at the SNN desk (as if we
needed a reminder that Ebersol couldn't give less of a shit about SNN if he
tried; he does a mediocre job). It's a shame that one of his best performances
in the episode, a pretty fun impression of his father Kirk, is tucked into one
of the most beguilingly awful sketches this season: "TV's Foul-Ups, Bleeps,
Blunders, Bloopers, Practical Jokes, And Political Debates," perhaps the
epitome of Ebersol's watery idea of satire that amounts to shitty practical
jokes and cuckoo sounds transfixed over bad political impressions. Also, hello
again, blackface Joe Piscopo. Glad this was one of your only roles
tonight. (As a minor note, I also wonder if the role of the Kenny Loggins
type in the "Footless" sketch was originally supposed to go to him instead of
writer Nate Herman, as I feel like he could've pulled it off; either way, it
makes for a pretty fun and energetic, if slight piece.)
</p>
<p>
Now the good! Gary and Jim continue to kill it as this season's two
inexplicable pretape stars, each scoring a particularly dazzling highlight.
I'll give the edge to Gary: his role in Breckman's "4 Minutes to Live" sketch,
a man who vows not to waste another second of his life after receiving news of
his super imminent death, is sold entirely on his increasing distress and
agony as he feels every second of his final moments being wasted on the
world's most merciless elevator. Jim's solo piece is pretty damn great too,
though, casting him as one of two ice cream men (the other, an outside actor,
'cuz it's secretly very old) who incessantly demand specification on a young
couple's ice cream order, each step becoming more labored and aggressive until
Jim is bellowing to them at gunpoint. It feels strikingly modern in its
abstraction; I wouldn't have been surprised to see Kyle and Beck doing
something like this. The best piece of the night, though, finds the two
working together, alongside Brad, resurrecting their garage band characters
from the Smothers Brothers episode with a full-fledged, '80s-as-<i>FUCK</i>
music video for "Look At Our Video," shamelessly begging for attention while
working through every cliché imaginable. (Sex! Violence! SFX! New wave
haircuts! A Gary Kroeger rap break!) It's an elaborate, detail-soaked
time capsule that makes perfect use of its three stars, and it's as
exhilarating now as it was then.
</p>
<p>
As I said before: hard as hell to assess in the end. This isn't the most
watchable that the show's ever been, but the highlights are truly worthwhile,
and for a season that's been stuck in a listless shuffle every time it
couldn't secure Eddie for the week, this episode feels like a solid prototype
for the future of Ebersol's SNL. Things are looking up; there's just some
fine-tuning to do. <i>(Penned 6/27/22) </i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">4/14/84: George McGovern / Madness (S9 E17)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I wasn't really sure where to place my hopes with George McGovern's hosting
gig, just as I never know what to expect of politicians or public figures
participating in SNL in general. It always feels like an odd arrangement, even
if the success rate by this point in the show is surprisingly great. I wonder
why that is, why having hosts like Ralph Nader, Julian Bond, or Edwin Newman
encourages the show to push harder. This episode doesn't offer too many
answers, but miraculously, it doesn't break the pattern, either.
</p>
<p>
If there's one thing I can say about McGovern, it's that even if he's not as
affable of a presence to work with, nor as capable of being a compelling
performer, I respected his willingness to roll with the punches. Don't get me
wrong, SNL isn't out to muck up his image, but they don't just pitch him
ego-stroking softballs, either; they invite him into the fun, and occasionally
the perverse, and he's always a game participant. I can think of no greater
example of that than the "Cosmos" sketch which, whilst describing the florid
accomplishments he had in a parallel universe where he got to be president,
ends with him quietly acknowledging that he's sent off all Republicans to
"work camps," a turn so dark and scathing that... I think I can appreciate it.
Like, that was pitched to George and he <i>approved</i> it. What a champ.
</p>
<p>
That's the only real time that he props a sketch up, but he never hurts
things; he's sort of a casual component of the material, not put under too
much pressure to deliver but also more integrated than most hosts in this era
all the same. Fortunately, the material is often fun enough that things cruise
along amicably, and occasionally with some real strength. I really loved the
post-monologue pretape, for instance, with George palling along with Jim and
Joe as they recklessly and apathetically play golf throughout the city. It's
an incredibly simple bit, but Joe and Jim counter McGovern's bewilderment with
perfect nonchalance as they shoot golf balls off phone booths, on top of taxi
cabs, and through office windows with limited regard for the distress they
cause. (One of my favorite beats: a golf ball knocks an old woman unconscious
on the streets, and Jim responds by saying she probably just wants to be on TV
and kicks her body out of the way to take his next shot.) George also plays an
archaeologist in the fun "Book Beat" sketch, a more modest feather in
Breckman's cap but a feather all the same. There's a nice slow burn with the
reveal that the box George uncovered was the "hidden treasure" Brad was booked
on the same show to promote, though now all Brad can do is hang his head in
shame and shrink back into his seat as much as possible as the show's host
(Joe) reads out the kindergarten-level hints in his book.
</p>
<p>
Some other McGovern bits work less effectively, but they're still okay for the
most part. It's barely a mark against someone for doing a lackluster job of
hosting SNN, so more than anything I applaud McGovern's best efforts with the
segment even if he's clearly not gonna make it work better. (He at least
scores a fun little bit with Gary, who fills his correspondent spot with a
poor attempt to smear McGovern simply because he didn't see a movie that week
to talk about.) The lowest point for him is probably having to helm the
resurrection of another of those dull song parody record sketches, though less
because of McGovern and more because those sketches are deathly filler. He
always does what he can, though, and I left the episode feeling that while
I'll never desire to see George on SNL again, he did the best that he could
and had a fun time with the cast.
</p>
<p>
A few more things round out the night. I absolutely <i>adored</i> the bonkers
trampoline sketch, with Mary and Tim's date ruined by Jim's trampolinist
jumping in and out of a massive hole in the floor and insulting them. It's
such a bizarre set-up that somehow manages to keep topping itself as it
becomes more and more anarchic, eventually reaching the fevered pitch where
both parties are firing guns at each other and debris showers down from the
ceiling—glorious madness, all spearheaded by Mary and Jim's maniacal
performances. This episode also marks the end of the road for pre-recorded
Eddie sketches with one last sketch about Jim and Mary trying to invite him
into a ménage à trois; it's not super great stuff, but I like the
conceptual nature of it, and the random curtain call at the very end with
Eddie thanking all of the "ménage à trois players" feels like a sweet, weird
way to pass the torch to his fellow cast members (intentional or not).
</p>
<p>
The horrific lowbrow stylings of guest comic Frankie Pace, giggling away at
some of the lamest jokes you will ever hear in your life, and possibly the
worst performance of "Our House" by Madness <i>ever</i> are probably the
episode's nadirs, but even then, there's something macabre about their
existence that adds to the overall deal. All in all, though, things amount to
a pretty fun and breezy episode! <i>(Penned 7/05/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">5/05/84: Barry Bostwick / Spinal Tap (S9 E18)</b>
</p>
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<p>
For the past few episodes, I've been detecting a nice upwards trajectory with
this season. It's felt like the show has finally started to figure out how to
go forward from Eddie's departure and sustain itself; certain cast member's
value has continued to soar (Jim, Gary, even Brad at times) and an emphasis on
pretapes has led to the show feeling the most exciting that it's felt since
early Season 7. All of that brings us to this episode, one that I was excited
out for a multitude of reasons; in addition to boasting fuckin'
<i>Spinal Tap</i>, I've seen this one held in pretty decent regard by others
within the reviewing community (i.e. <i>two whole people</i>!). Of course, I'm
prone to disagreement about episode quality because all things are subjective,
and I've often found my assessments of episodes at odds with theirs (and
that's a large part of the fun), but either way my expectations were set for a
quality that I sadly can't say this episode really delivered on.
</p>
<p>
It's an episode that raises a question I've been thinking about for a while
now: what can I quantify into grading an episode of the show? There's
certainly no shortage of things that I'd consider above-average here, and they
serve to enhance the spirit of proceedings, but it's a conundrum of how much I
can consider them part of the show. Spinal Tap delivers two of the most
exciting and theatrical performances I've seen in some time on the SNL stage,
rocking out far harder than any parodic heavy metal band has
<i>any</i> right to, but how much can I count their chops towards the
episode's value as a whole? (The only time I've ever let a musical guest raise
an episode grade is James Brown.) Spinal Tap pops up in the show, too,
delivering a pretaped improv session fielding questions from the episode's
host, Barry Bostwick, that capture the verve of their acclaimed mockumentary,
but how much can I count the unwritten ramblings of trained improvisors
outside of the show towards the show's quality? I'd argue that I can't, or at
least not very much. And sadly, too, A. Whitney Brown isn't quite a member of
the show, though it was a pleasant surprise to see him do a strong guest comic
set before joining the show proper in a few years.
</p>
<p>
That leaves us with the rest of the episode, which sadly feels like a jumble
of different fragments, some strong and some ambitious, but lacking in much
uniformity as a whole. The best sketch of the night, hands down, was the lie
detector piece, casting Jim as a man who lets slip all of his horrifying
truths while rigged up for a job interview; it's a simple idea that other
shows may have gone on to perfect, but it's an exercise here in
wonderfully-escalating absurdity—Jim's apparently hot-wired a railroad car,
participated in Watergate, served in the Third Reich ("Briefly!"), and knows a
Hitler clone in Argentina—all leading to a shockingly great ending, something
which I will always appreciate whenever SNL can find one. The episode's big
centerpiece, though, is also its greatest disappointment: "The Turkey Lady" is
the closest Ebersol has come to having an elaborate epic sketch, casting Barry
as a scientist who, by freak accident, fuses his wife with a turkey, but it
never feels like it fully examines the perimeters of its insane conceit.
Culminating things with a cameo from Soupy Sales (prompting me to ask that
age-old question of vintage SNL: <i>"Who???"</i>) rather than discovering a
legitimate ending, too, torpedoes whatever potential it once had to land
things with a bang.
</p>
<p>
There's some other stuff rounding this episode out, but none of it is
particularly special. The "Iceman" sketch is a cute way to showcase Barry's
musical talents through an impromptu, lively (if slight) Neil Sedaka number;
Barry's a bit less well served in the "Dog Day P.M." sketch, casting him as a
dog being interviewed about the horrors of human captivity, but it simply
feels too cheesy for him to salvage despite his strengths as s host. Also, the
less said about the final "Whiners" sketch, the better—there's no greater
bait-and-switch than getting me excited about a Gary and Julia pretape out on
the streets of New York than having the goddamn Whiners walk into it and do
the same thing they've already done
<i>nine times</i>. It's the fact that this episode offers a taste of the
things to come, in a weird way, that gives the episode something of a unique
value, however mixed: Billy Crystal sinks another iteration of SNN as Fernando
(an omen of bad things to come, surely), and inevitably, Spinal Tap's guest
appearance offered Ebersol a chance to negotiate for all of them participating
in Season 10. This one just doesn't connect much as a whole in the end,
though, and if anything, it feels like a demonstration of Ebersol's growing
disinterest with the status quo that this season has done such a nice job to
cultivate. <i>(Penned 7/11/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">5/12/84: Billy Crystal, Mayor Ed Koch, Edwin Newman, Father Guido Sarducci,
and Betty Thomas / The Cars (S9 E19)</b>
</p>
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<p>
Has there ever been a more Ebersol decision than to send off a season of SNL
with five different hosts at the wheel? It's an idea that barely even makes
sense... which I guess makes it less surprising Ebersol went with it. But I
digress; it's an interesting proposition for sure, collecting a mix of some of
the hardest-hitters of the past season (Edwin Newman, Billy Crystal to certain
people who aren't me) and amiable friends of the show (Mayor Ed Koch, Father
Guido, Betty Thomas) for one more ride. I find it hard to say just how much
the spectacle pays off, but a pretty solid episode gets churned out all the
same, and for as much as this is a final stop for Ebersol before he really
pimps his ride in S10, it's appreciably cast-centric, a farewell to those who
end their careers here and a grounds of celebration for those who will get to
stay on just a little bit longer.
</p>
<p>
First, though, the hosts. Their use across this episode feels generally
emblematic of their use across the previous episodes they participated in.
Billy Crystal, unsurprisingly, is the most dominant, and even more
unsurprisingly, he's the source of this episode's greatest blights. He paints
his face every color except his own as he leaps through his usual bits (Sammy
Davis, Fernando) and then some, the lowest point of the evening being a
stereotypical Japanese caricature that makes me think he's never met an Asian
person in his life. Betty Thomas, contrarily, is the most tragically
invisible, being squandered for the second time this season in fairly nothing
roles that don't let her demonstrate her charisma. Guido, as with his strange
January hosting stint, mostly exists along the outskirts to guide the most
superfluous segments along (a duet with Jim's Willie Nelson, and a
man-on-the-street bit, though the latter is at least the perfect use for him).
It's Mayor Ed and Edwin who shine the most, simply because the show channels
into what made their earlier appearances on the show so successful. "Mayor
Koch's Neighborhood" is the most delightfully ludicrous way that Mayor Ed's
played along in advertising his book yet, abducting Eddie's classic sketch and
shamelessly reworking every famous beat in hopes of getting some more sales
while masterfully employing his charming candor. Edwin, meanwhile, helms
another iteration of SNN (thankfully ripping it out of Fernando's hands for
the most part), though his best contribution is playing second banana in the
"Hello, Trudy!" sequel sketch. Rather than feeling inferior to the original,
it discovers new hooks and developments (Jim becoming desperate and having to
work hard and win Trudy's trust back after Edwin turns her away) that further
its weird little universe and make for a gratifying revisit.
</p>
<p>
I'll give the episode some minor credit for attempting to create a sketch that
involves all five of its hosts, though what we ultimately got out of that idea
is a sketch that sadly gets held back by the grotesque caricaturing and racism
that enables its premise, casting Billy as a Japanese sushi chef fending off
against a sudden Godzilla attack. Those problematic undertones are absolutely
horrible (just hear the way Billy says "SAAAA-shimii") and casting Jim as a
customer (Betty Thomas' date—yeah, she's just barely in there!) who goes "ewwy
ewwy weird Japanese things" offers a further, mean edge, but I do want to give
the vaguest credit for the amount of ambition to the piece. There's a
strangely ambitious sense of scale to it as the story starts to focus on
Godzilla rampaging through New York, only to be stopped by Mayor Ed
advertising his book for the umpteenth time. ("He bored Godzilla to death,"
Edwin deadpans perfectly as the on-sight reporter.) Those shimmers of good
just make it all the more disappointing that it could never truly work by
virtue of the hacky values at its core, but in the end I'm more dismayed than
truly angry.
</p>
<p>
Now the cast! Considering it's Joe's final episode, and considering that he's
become increasingly more annoying to me whenever he's on-screen, I was
pleasantly surprised to discover that he had a rather strong night to close
his tenure out. Sure, we got his Frank Sinatra in the very lavish cold open
landing the season's final LFNY—perhaps a bit symbolic, considering he always
dreamed of hosting an episode in-character as Sinatra—but his shining moments
have always been as a member of the ensemble rather than standing in the
spotlight. Here, he teams up with Julia and Mary to land the succinct and
gloriously bloody "Mikko's Got Your Nose Safety Guard" sketch, ripping his
child's nose off by accident playing the imaginary game and making fine use of
the blood hose, and perhaps more memorably he teams up with Gary and Tim as
the Three Stooges teaching a karate self-defense class—a fine display of silly
physical humor that closes with an amazing blooper where he drops trou
multiple times. Tim, meanwhile, feels like he's still at the height of his
powers, reprising Jack Badofsky and his Worthington Clotman characters
throughout the episode in addition to co-anchoring "Karate Class"; it's a
disappointingly low-key exit for an unheralded cast member, though the
consummate pro that he is, Tim makes every moment count. Brad, someone who's
had a surprisingly solid season since being dethroned from the SNN desk, gets
lost in the skirmish sadly, though he lands one more satisfying sketch
appearance in "Got Your Nose" as a spokesman smarmily proclaiming, "Has this
ever happened to you?" over the bonkers, unrelatable situation at hand. Last
but not least of the departing class, Robin... is there sometimes. I love her
to bits, and it's sad to see how the show has completely lost sight of her
unique skillset when she should have flourished.
</p>
<p>
Out of everyone in the cast, it's Gary who shines the brightest and who makes
the strongest case for his return in the final Ebersol season. What starts off
as a simple enough sketch of Robin showing Julia various different video date
applicants hoping to score explodes into a spectacular music video production
for his Ira Needleman, a 31 year-old dental hygienist who loves
<i>Star Trek</i> and very much wants to not be a virgin. Gary does not get
enough credit for being as remarkable as he is; while he often slaved away in
utility roles as he always has, this season's offered him some chances to
really up the ante and demonstrate his blinding charisma, and it's no surprise
that this gem of a sketch is probably the sole reason Ebersol didn't fire him
over the summer break. Jim continues to demonstrate his remarkable abilities,
if also his unevenness—he's fantastic in "Hello, Trudy!" but his performance
in the sushi restaurant falls back on old, obnoxious habits, so let's call it
a minor draw—while Julia and Mary submit nimble work whenever it's presented
to them. Sadly, it already feels like they've been cosigned to the B-team
before Season 10's A-tier have even entered the building, but I'm looking
forward to their continued presence.
</p>
<p>
If it's not clear from everything I've written, there's a lot to formulate
about this episode. Some things really hit, some things really miss, and the
fact that this feels like the show's last moments before committing an act of
strange metamorphosis lend it a surprisingly bittersweet feel, even if Ebersol
still feels rather sly about what changes are in store. In the end, though,
the liveliness of the episode prevails, and I suppose Ebersol and his
farfetched, impractical ideas triumph yet again. This one's a win, but as we
step into the strangest frontier for his era yet, we'll see how well these
sorts of gonzo decisions continue to pay off. <i>(Penned 7/15/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">Cumulative Season Rankings:</b>
</p>
<p>
<b>1.</b> Edwin Newman / Kool & The Gang (A)<br /><b>2.</b> Don
Rickles / Billy Idol (A)<br /><b>3.</b> Betty Thomas / The Stray Cats
(B+)<br /><b>4.</b> Robin Williams / Adam Ant (B+)<br /><b>5.</b> Danny DeVito and Rhea Perlman / Eddie Grant (B+)<br /><b>6.</b> Five Hosts / The Cars (B+)<br /><b>7.</b> George McGovern /
Madness (B)<br /><b>8.</b> Flip Wilson / Stevie Nicks (B)<br /><b>9.</b> Michael Douglas / Deniece Williams (B)<br /><b>10.</b> Michael
Palin and his mother / The Motels (B)<br /><b>11.</b> Brandon Tartikoff /
John Cougar (B-)<br /><b>12.</b> Jamie Lee Curtis / The Fixx (B-)<br /><b>13.</b> Barry Bostwick / Spinal Tap (B-)<br /><b>14.</b> The Smothers
Brothers / Big Country (B-)<br /><b>15.</b> John Candy / Men At Work
(B-)<br /><b>16.</b> Father Guido Sarducci / Huey Lewis & The News
(B-)<br /><b>17.</b> Jerry Lewis / Loverboy (C+)<br /><b>18.</b> Teri Garr / Mick Fleetwood's Zoo (C+)<br /><b>19.</b> Billy
Crystal / Al Jarreau (C)
</p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE SKETCHES:<br />10.</b> "Look At Our Video" (S9E16 / Michael
Douglas)<br /><b>9. </b>"Tag You're It" (S9E13 / Jamie Lee Curtis)<br /><b>8.</b> "Face the Press" (S9E14 / Edwin Newman)<br /><b>7. </b>"Trampoline" (S9E17 / George McGovern)<br /><b>6. </b>"Witness
Relocation" (S09E11 / Don Rickles)<br /><b>5.</b> "Midtown Open" (S9E17 /
George McGovern)<br /><b>4.</b> "Winston University" (S9E15 / Billy
Crystal)<br /><b>3. </b>"Needleman" (S9E18 / Five Hosts)<br /><b>2. </b>"James Brown's Celebrity Hot Tub Party" (S9E04 / Betty Thomas)<br /><b>1.</b> "You Win A Dollar" (S9E04 / Betty Thomas)
</p>
<p>
<b>Other great sketches:</b> "Larry's Corner" (S9E01 / Brandon
Tartikoff); "Small World," "Spanish Class," and "Autograph Hounds" (S9E02 /
DeVito and Perlman); "Thanksgiving Dinner" (S9E06 / Jerry Lewis); "Hello,
Trudy!" (S9E08 / Flip Wilson); "That's Okay" and "Boy's Life On The
Mississippi" (S9E10 / Michael Palin and his mother); "Rock & Roll
And Then Some," "Firing Line," and "Siamese Twins" (S9E12 / Robin
Williams);"Hymietown," "News Bar," "How High The Noon," "Urban Answers," and
"A Nickel" (S9E14 / Edwin Newman); "Four Minutes to Live" (S9E16 / Michael
Douglas); "Lie Detector" (S9E18 / Barry Bostwick).
</p>
<p><b>FAVORITE MUSICAL PERFORMANCES:<br /></b><b>7.</b> Al Jarreau (S9E15 / Billy Crystal)<br /><b>6.</b> Eddy
Grant (S9E02 / DeVito and Perlman)<br /><b>5.</b> The Motels (S9E10 /
Michael Palin and his mother)<br /><b>4.</b> Huey Lewis & The News
(S9E09 / Father Guido Sarducci)<br /><b>3.</b> Stevie Nicks (S9E08 / Flip
Wilson)<br /><b>2.</b> Kool & The Gang (S9E14 / Edwin Newman)<br /><b>1.</b> Spinal Tap (S9E18 / Spinal Tap)</p>
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<p>
<b>WEEKEND UPDATE: </b>This is the season where things start to really fall
apart for Saturday Night News. It's not very surprising that Ebersol grew
tired of the news desk; Brian-Doyle Murray's reign through Season 7 was truly
terrible, guaranteeing a massive dead zone in every single episode, while Brad
Hall's voice was drowned out by poor writing and Ebersol's apolitical leanings
making his style particularly toothless. I sympathize with Brad, as he never
really did anything wrong so much as having the misfortune of being bogged
down by the material. Even so, he remained chipper and never as desperate as
the desk's worst offenders; considering how secretly spotty and generally
awful Weekend Update is throughout the show's history, I'd actually put him in
the upper half so far. Definitely leagues above his two predecessors, and I'd
say about on par with Jane/Bill (a team-up I never cared a ton for).
</p>
<p>
Of course, this is the season where Ebersol would disavow with the segment
entirely and fire Brad over the holiday break from that position. The segment
would usually end up being lent to whoever was in for the week, which worked
sometimes (Edwin Newman) but was usually very baffling to the degree that I'm
not sure why Ebersol bothered to preserve it (George McGovern? Michael
Douglas?). Worst of all, it ended up empowering Billy Crystal, anchoring two
iterations this season as Fernando, a character who would go on to define his
tenure next season. How this bit was ever loved, nobody will ever know. At the
very least, correspondents this season remained in strong form: Gary is always
a fun presence with his film reviews, and the gag of him being thrown over the
desk every week was a nice touch, while Tim continues his hot streak with
several solid Jack Badofsky appearances and a few solid character debuts,
perhaps most memorably as the stuffy network censor Worthington Clotman. As a
whole, though, the news segment remains unsteady.
</p>
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<p>
<b>SOME WORDS ON THE DEPARTING CAST: </b>In a season packed with departing
cast members, Eddie Murphy, of course, will be the most missed. This was not a
great season for him for the most part, despite a handful of very strong
highlights ("James Brown's Celebrity Hot Tub Party," "Rock & Roll And Then
Some," "Firing Line"); he was afflicted with senioritis whenever he even
bothered to show up, though I don't blame him for being bigger than the show
by this point and poised to leave on a relative high. Even at his most
disengaged, though, it's impossible to deny that Eddie might be the most
sheer, magnetic performer SNL has ever had. While I don't agree with the
apocryphal tale that Eddie singlehandedly saved the show through these years,
it's impossible to deny that the screen lit up whenever he was on it, and he
knew how to sell any line you gave him. If he didn't save the show, he
certainly brought it a vibrancy and ease that these years would've suffered
without.<br />
</p>
<p>
His best pal turned one-sided arch-rival Joe Piscopo, on the other hand... he
made the farewell pretty easy to swallow. It's easy to slam Joe Piscopo,
something of a national punchline for decades after leaving the show, but that
delegitimizes how strong he could be on the show; just like Eddie, cast
against the dreary undertones of Season 6, he was able to create a beacon of
light and connect with skeptical audiences. By this point in his tenure, Joe
is simply having an ego trip, becoming deeply enamored with horrifying
prosthetics to fuel his lackluster impressions (Barbra Streisand? Jesse
Jackson? Really?), and it sadly strains the memories of just how reliable he
once was. Perhaps it's true that even his best bits cast him as perpetually
second at everything—the second-best Sinatra after Hartman, the second-best
pitchman after Aykroyd, the second-best star after Eddie—but in his best
years, he brought the show some reliability, and in his willingness to let
sketches collapse around him when things went awry (the whole Rickles episode,
the Stooges sketch), some good old-fashioned fun.
</p>
<p>
The loss of Tim Kazurinsky is probably one of the saddest; the fact
that he was simply fired by Ebersol after the season despite all of his
valuable contributions to the show is a painful pill to swallow. He never got
as much appreciation as he deserved. He was both a consummate, unflappable
professional, perhaps one of the hardest working utility players the show's
ever had, and perhaps the most dedicated cast member in the show's history to
the live nature of SNL, partaking in gleeful exercises that pinned him against
the in-house audience with his barrage of puns and placing all of his faith
into live chimpanzees as scene partners in "I Married A Monkey". He had so
much more to give, but I'm glad that history has been kinder to him than most.
</p>
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<p>
Robin Duke's firing was no great surprise, but it was disappointing all the
same. Seldom has such a clearly-talented person so at ease with the show been
as wasted as Robin was. She could do it all and found the humor in even the
straightest roles—an important skill for her, considering that was what she
mostly got. But she was at her best when she could showcase the maniacal glint
in her eyes: her Mrs. T impression deserved to go the distance, and any time
Robin was given the opportunity to go big and play the most unhinged character
she could, she was as captivating as she was quietly terrifying, a true force
of nature. Sadly, she'll go on to be best remembered as half of the Whiners, a
second banana to the perpetual second banana that is Joe Piscopo, because SNL
couldn't figure out what to do with a female cast member who couldn't play
sexy.
</p>
<p>
Lastly, there's Brad Hall. While I don't think I'll miss him as much as most
of the other departing cast members, it's sad to think how much he could've
continued to improve. He gets a bad rap for a lot of things I can't really
contest: his hamminess, his WASPiness, his SNN tenure. But I think that when
he was used right, he could be an engaging, idiosyncratic performer, certainly
the only one in the cast capable of his little niche. Aside from his
always-solid work with his old PTC buddies, Gary and Julia, he formed a strong
partnership with Jim, whose tendencies towards loose, manic energy enabled
them to form a quick connection that fueled some of the season's most fun
pieces ("You Win A Dollar"; "Look At Our Video"). Sadly, staying past this
season was untenable from the start; his relationship with Ebersol was
tumultuous, and getting removed from the SNN desk was the beginning of the
end. Kudos to Brad for making his remaining time count and turning it into
something of a blessing in disguise.
</p>
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<p>
<b>FRANKIE PACE:</b> Who the fuck is this guy? How the fuck did SNL find
him? I think about this weird little man so much and his stupid, stupid jokes.
The fact that the audience was eating out of the palm of his hand, too, made
me feel like I was in an alternate dimension where comedy made no sense
anymore, where nothing I believe was true. I was adrift in the deadness of
space. I hate Frankie Pace, but more than that, I love Frankie Pace. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3JO-RHcMDcrIT_PLZLRNvg">He's still absolutely killing at all those years later so I wanted to give him a signal boost, because I know I am exceptionally powerful</a>. He kissed Robert Urich—a meeting of two legendary, SNL-adjacent minds! That's
all I wanted to say on the matter.</p>
<p><b>SEASON GRADE AVERAGE: B-.</b></p><p>I have an announcement coming soon pertaining to my SNL work and a way you can support me while getting some fun perks. Stay tuned for that :D</p>
<p>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">Follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>!</i>
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
<p></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;"><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 1</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 2</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-reviewed-and-ranked.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 3</a><br style="font-style: normal;" /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/09/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 4</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/12/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 5</a></span><br style="font-style: normal;" /><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 6</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/03/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 7</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 8</a><br /><b>Season 9</b> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 10</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 11</a><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 12</a></span></i></p>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-70418890147381769502022-06-03T18:23:00.002-05:002022-06-03T18:23:23.841-05:00Some Long Overdue Thoughts on Amphibia<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNE0yryLrI_jFAYJfd0XWTwQOhPVls9goI4i7eiQJjy2F6j_iQtLVF3fKv-creP4Nc545bfIGbtE2j4JOxQReNVuTW-y6ElTyS3Ir1pla-0aBzuiT-2AKzqQyic18A9EwMRhSPNLvyhz38iXzYp2oPdOmHOBrbBIWtiYELFxzCVmtLTeyswbq-A9QQ/s3840/Screenshot%20(19429).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNE0yryLrI_jFAYJfd0XWTwQOhPVls9goI4i7eiQJjy2F6j_iQtLVF3fKv-creP4Nc545bfIGbtE2j4JOxQReNVuTW-y6ElTyS3Ir1pla-0aBzuiT-2AKzqQyic18A9EwMRhSPNLvyhz38iXzYp2oPdOmHOBrbBIWtiYELFxzCVmtLTeyswbq-A9QQ/s16000/Screenshot%20(19429).png" width="518" /></a>
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<p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"It's over. It's finally over."</span></i></b></span>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;">
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</div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">--</span>
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<p>
So... <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/03/amphibia-review-ivy-on-run-after-rain.html">it's been a very long time since I've written about <i>Amphibia</i>, huh?</a> I
feel bad, perpetually, about it. I know the coverage I did for over fifty
episodes of the show, spanning almost two years, was something that quite a
few people really enjoyed, even people who actually worked on the show, and I
still think about that. And that fed into a lot of guilt, because at a certain
point... I didn't know what else I could say about the show anymore. And so I
didn't. But now, having seen the full arc of the show, I thought I'd re-emerge
from the shadows and share a few final thoughts about Season 3 and the series
in general.<span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p>
<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoRY472DN9mq0xRFQhV4zCqOY0GTKEu2EtcIoZnaBY5IwPuQc3S5LsGt63mW4QvjKfywISBLuJ9iqIefwpxQiNuP381ozoMCU7anbUBtSzp0xcDF5L8qkJFwC8UMCkzxPEBtaMQan8KnixmTw__DbYEgFbZN06YGJrGa3F3D310y7zz0ZGklUCd73P/s3840/Screenshot%20(14413).png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoRY472DN9mq0xRFQhV4zCqOY0GTKEu2EtcIoZnaBY5IwPuQc3S5LsGt63mW4QvjKfywISBLuJ9iqIefwpxQiNuP381ozoMCU7anbUBtSzp0xcDF5L8qkJFwC8UMCkzxPEBtaMQan8KnixmTw__DbYEgFbZN06YGJrGa3F3D310y7zz0ZGklUCd73P/s16000/Screenshot%20(14413).png" width="320" /></a>
</div>
Up until the finale, my thoughts remained on the same track that fed into my
dissatisfaction with covering <i>Amphibia</i>. What I love about being able to
write about a show is the chance to examine the ebb and flow of a show that is
always trying to explore, deconstruct, and reconsider its identity. I love those
sorts of growing pains, and that was something that made <i>Amphibia</i> so
alluring to me early on: it was far from a flawless show. It was indelibly
charming, as it continued to be to the very end, but it also wasn't a show that
had the most singular identity, and it relied all too frequently on basic
formulas in its writing whenever the narrative didn't call for something more
involved, which was often. "<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2019/07/amphibia-review-reunion.html">Reunion</a>," then, was this amazing game-changer for me, because it felt like Amphibia
was stepping up... but Season 2, in all of its very cautious refinements, didn't
really maintain that momentum.
<p></p>
<p>
That takes us to Season 3, hot off the heels of yet another phenomenal season
finale ("True Colors"), with the status quo changing in a particularly
exciting way by severing Anne from the rest of her friends and sending her and
the Plantars back to Earth. It's an amazing conceit to revitalize the show, as
well as making a case for how much Anne has changed since the last time she
was home, but the show, again, doesn't always make the most of that. There are
some particularly wonderful outings, sure—I think back on the episodes that
explore Anne's evolving dynamic with her parents the most—but even with stakes
rising, <i>Amphibia</i> was keen to deploy superfluous fare, and the rotating
door of new supporting characters going in and out of relevancy within the
narrative made it feel unclear how individual developments should be weighted
and taken.
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
Up until this point, I remained frustrated. There were always those inklings of
brilliant potential, and at the drop of a pin, <i>Amphibia</i> could do
something truly moving and amazing... but then it would just return to the
standard fare, never bad but rarely rewarding. I think in my reviews I've talked
a lot about <i>Amphibia's</i> search for an identity, and it's hard for me to
say, even three seasons deep into the show, if it ever really found a unique
one. It feels like a lot of how <i>Amphibia</i> presents itself, in the style of
its writing, human, and overall narrative, was carefully crafted around the most
amicable traits of its contemporaries. While that's perhaps somewhat cruel to
say, it remains hard for me, even now, to find a way to describe
<i>Amphibia</i> that makes it sound truly singular, and that lack of a selling
point I could use beyond "Yeah, it's pretty good" just hung over me. That's not
a bad sentiment to have at the start of the series, and I was excited to see
where it could grow from there... but the show never really pushed past that. It
preferred to keep things cool and complacent, its risks too calculated for their
own good.
<p>
I actually tried to write something about the show around the midway point of
Season 3, and I got pretty far into it, but it felt like an untenable
situation—I just wasn't happy. I didn't know what more to expect from the show
or what more to ask of it, and I sort of gave up on being anything but
pessimistic, even though I continued watching. But here's the thing: that
final stretch of Season 3, while still not perfect... <i>it gets there</i>. It
really does. The show recognizes the significance of where the narrative is at
and the tension surrounding everything and it stops messing around. We still
have some struggles over what's essential and what isn't—for instance, a
<i>lot</i> of time goes into assembling an army that we then
<i>barely see</i> in the final two episodes—but the things I valued most about
the show started to assert themselves. Most significantly to me, we saw candid
moments between Anne and other characters, especially Sasha, that imbued the
narrative with a certain humanity that's always been
<i>Amphibia's</i> greatest asset. Those moments of reconciliation reaped the
greatest benefits from how carefully choreographed of a show this is;
<i>Amphibia</i> keeps its tabs on literally everything, and that means it can
swing things around and surprise you at a moment's notice with impeccable
nuance.
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
It was in that vein that the series finale, "The Hardest Thing," absolutely
stunned me, and it's why I'm writing all of this in the first place. I was so
scared that <i>Amphibia</i> would end the show by doing something predictable, since
predictability has always been one of its greater struggles. I was scared that
everything would wrap up in some big, mega-happy ending where everything is
okay, where none of the tension meant anything, where nothing truly changes and
so nothing is truly felt. But none of that happens, because again: <i>Amphibia
keeps its tabs on literally everything</i>. It's seen how its characters have grown,
the connections they've formed, the pain that they've gone through and the
different worlds that they're torn between, and in "The Hardest Thing's" final
half, it wields that in a truly moving and bittersweet way.
<p>
Years after the events of the series, Anne, Sasha, and Marcy have all moved on
from their lives with the new things they've learned about themselves. They're
not as close as they once were, especially Anne, and I think that mirrors
reality in a really curious and thoughtful manner. People change overtime, and
in Anne's case, she finally knows who she is. Sasha and Marcy always sort of
have, and they've simply taken that knowledge and pushed it in a positive
direction (Sasha is a therapist, and Marcy has a successful webcomic), but
Anne... she's finally figured out what she wants. And all she wants is to work
at the aquarium as the resident "frog lady," paying dues to her past but
making the most of her present. Likewise, back in Amphibia, everyone continues
to honor Anne and she remains in their memories, but the world has continued
on. After all, even if the story of <i>Amphibia</i> is the story of their time
together, it was only really a few months of all of the characters' lives.
Things continue to happen in life, and the show reflects that back.
</p>
<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTju3SbzRGq9Fa1YMggZ-XEsLR0U4jwD4Ry8BQc-QULBRmJLdovncRMqFBVvcDWr8eoRxQ6OCcKbNEVRclJ28BheB8keIR8otC-zJf0hj-QqBkxEgllfxJd9lOupk1jNuN-o6aDQ2A5LfVMjlfpQpPDbR99OXOb_juts_61g4BZztISGRcMInI1p2v/s3840/Screenshot%20(19434).png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="3840" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTju3SbzRGq9Fa1YMggZ-XEsLR0U4jwD4Ry8BQc-QULBRmJLdovncRMqFBVvcDWr8eoRxQ6OCcKbNEVRclJ28BheB8keIR8otC-zJf0hj-QqBkxEgllfxJd9lOupk1jNuN-o6aDQ2A5LfVMjlfpQpPDbR99OXOb_juts_61g4BZztISGRcMInI1p2v/s16000/Screenshot%20(19434).png" width="320" /></a>
</div>
Is the finale so amazing that it completely undoes all of the difficulties I've
had leading up to that point? Of course not. I don't know how much this show
will endure, but that's also a lofty expectation to have of any show. For all of
the ups and downs I've had watching the show, though, the moments of joy and
frustation... it's the perfect way to end my journey with
<i>Amphibia</i>. <p>End of ramble.</p>
<p>
<i style="font-family: Arimo;">If you like my stuff, be sure to follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>.</i>
</p>
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</div>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-86436466210615917752022-06-01T15:40:00.004-05:002023-10-15T01:05:04.200-05:00Saturday Night Live, Ranked and Reviewed: Season 8<p></p>
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</div>
<p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"> "Hey, Mr. Wheat!"</span></i></b></span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 13.2px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br />--</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<p></p>
<p>
Season 7 proved to be, for me, a rather tumultuous time. That's not because it
was bad; it was a land of extremes, packed with forgotten gems but also
ensured, interminable dead spots in every single episode. My expectations
going into this season, then—touting some crucial new hires and losing Tony
Rosato, Christine Ebersole, and Brian Doyle-Murray—were refinement and
stability. Beyond that, Season 8 also boasts some of the more daring and
intriguing offerings of the Ebersol era: comedy icons like Sid Caesar and the
Smothers Brothers, an eight year-old Drew Barrymore, Chevy Chase emceeing the
premiere through a television-screen, and of course Eddie Murphy hosting the
show while a member of the cast, cementing his status as the show's in-house
legend.
</p>
<p>
For my reviews of the previous season, Season 7,
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/03/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">CLICK HERE</a>! Otherwise, without further ado (but my god, please pace yourself):
here's my thoughts on Season 8!
</p>
<span><a name='more'></a></span>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">9/25/82: Chevy Chase / Queen (S8 E01)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It's strange, but also I suppose oh-so-Ebersol, to kick off the latest season
of SNL with a highly unusual episode, even if that novelty was bred from
unintended circumstances. Bringing Chevy Chase back to 8H is (I should clarify
to a comedy-loving audience in 1982, but not necessarily 2022) a cause for
celebration and a bombastic way to welcome everyone back! Little did he know,
though, that he Chevy would end up hosting all the way in Burbank, California,
his duties conducted through a simulcasting television monitor.
</p>
<p>
Admittedly, this is probably the best way to have Chevy return to SNL, and I'm
sure this is the hosting gig where he's caused the least grief among those he
has to work with. The idea also helps a sense of fun permeate even the most
tired elements of his routine; I'll admit that it's fun to see him perform a
pratfall or appear as Land Shark through a TV set. But it's also not an
episode whose strengths really lie on that gimmick, because accidental or not,
Ebersol has his eyes on the new cast, for whom most of this episode's most
exciting moments can be attributed to.
</p>
<p>
First of all, though, yes, Eddie and Joe are very much the show's central cast
members, and the season is quick to give the audience what they know they
want. The monologue is immediately followed by the return of Tyrone Green,
this time exhibiting his contemporary artwork to an audience of liberal white
art lovers who are entranced by his blunt artistic visions. It's, y'know,
fine? Eddie kills in the role, but it's not particularly surprising; most of
the fun comes simply from the opportunity it presents for Tyrone to play off
of different types of characters. It's obvious that it can never recapture the
spark of the first installments, as his sequel poem "Wite People" testifies.
Joe gets the next piece of the night, introducing a pretape of him and his new
love, Rose Kennedy, enjoying a stroll on the beach. Again, whatever. The two
submit their best work of the episode in the Letterman sketch buried in the
back-half, with Piscopo doing a spot-on Letterman impression while
interviewing Eddie's Gumby, now more fully-formed in its second appearance...
but it's not a piece that's all the way there for me either.
</p>
<p>
I was more excited by our three new cast members, who make quite a good splash
here. Brad Hall is the first of the bunch to get much of a shot, doing a
delightfully dark and scathing John Hinckley impression, vowing for the US
presidency, in the night's first winner ("You don't have to wonder what kind
of president I'm gonna be, my record speaks for itself.") and helming the
latest iteration of Weekend Update which... is an accomplishment, for sure!
We'll see how he does. The other two get less, but they do more to helm the
"PTC Club" sketch, a trunk piece from the trio's improv days; Julia
Louis-Dreyfus proves herself to be a particularly fearless performer as a
Southern preacher who has a magnificent breakdown discussing a battle with
Satan, and Gary Kroeger steals the sketch with his crowd-work as a faith
healer who insists he will exorcise audience members by placing a hand on
their breasts. Of the three, I find myself shocked to say that I'm looking
forward to what he'll bring to the show the most.
</p>
<p>
The best sketch of the night, though, is "Video Junkie," because if there's
anywhere you can expect Ebersol to come in clutch, it's in the pretape
department. A phenomenal bit of satire, it casts the plight of the young,
arcade-obsessed child against that of the drug junkie, with child actors
all-too-convincingly droning about their love of video games like needles of
heroin ("When you're doin' the Donk, it's like there's nobody else alive but
you.") and becoming so codependent that they require experimental shock
treatment. It's the dedication it has to its mockumentary format which makes
it such a tragically-forgotten gem, and its scope makes me excited to see how
this era continues to approach its pretaped segments.
</p>
<p>
Throw in some solid Queen performances (their final ones in the US led by
Freddie Mercury), and you've got a premiere that signifies promise, if not
immediate strength. I look forward to seeing how this new season continues to
develop and embrace its new talent. <i>(Penned 3/05/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/02/82: Louis Gossett Jr. / George Thorogood & The Destroyers (S8
E02)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
After the preceding, very strange episode, it's nice to return to 8H with an
episode that feels like it sets a precedent for what this season will look
like, and unless it's a false alarm, I get the sense that we're in for a lot
of improvements. This certainly isn't a perfect episode, but it feels like a
nice establishment of this season's goalposts. While we're as quick as last
season to bring back some reliable recurring bits to give the night some
electricity, there's also a general enthusiasm that keeps even the lesser
material moving along, rather than ever wallowing as much as Season 7 was
prone to do.
</p>
<p>
Maybe a part of that is also because our host, Louis Gossett Jr., is really
into this episode. Like... maybe a little <i>too</i> into it? Sometimes you
just get one of those hosts who is more than capable, but all too eager to
show themselves as a game participant, though it's not the biggest slight for
Louis. His broadness may be something of a deterrent for some, but he always
feels like he's delivering what the show wants him to at the very least, with
however much of an idiosyncratic slant, rather than throwing things into
dysfunction. And sometimes, as is the case in the sex therapy sketch, I
actually got a kick out of his character work, punctuating the fairly slow
scene with strange, understated "a-ha, a-ha-ha, a-ha"s that carry it,
eventually, to a strong finish.
</p>
<p>
It's also just nice, after the past two seasons of mayonnaise heapage, to see
another black host on the show, especially able to pal along during these peak
Eddie years. It's not that it encourages the show to conduct itself all that
differently, but combined with how much the material really pushes Louis to
the forefront, there's something naturally refreshing about it (which you can
interpret as however damning). It also does enable us to have a particularly
fun, satirical and meta sketch about how Louis' presence creates an arbitrary
expectation that the night has <i>something</i> to say about race,
with Louis and Eddie assuming stereotypical father-son roles before bailing
and deconstructing the sketch, trotting out its white writer, and invalidating
its attempts at implicit truths. (In a particularly fun crescendo, Eddie
points out his real-life father in the audience, with whom he has a healthy
and loving relationship, before ordering him to sit back down.)
</p>
<p>
When Louis isn't involved, we also get some surprise appearances from Mr. T,
helping to enliven some of the episode's best material. While this installment
of "Mister Robinson's Neighborhood" was already a fairly refreshing one,
revolving around music and featuring Eddie banging the shit out of a drum kit,
it's Mr. T busting down his door and putting him in a chokehold as Robinson's
no-nonsense neighbor that makes this one of the most delightful installments.
Similarly, even if all he really does is stand next to Robin in the "Mr. and
Mrs. T Bloody Mary Mix" sketch, he offers the oddball idea some fun
credibility, not that it really needed it; all of the joy is in watching
Robin, with an insane Mr. T wig and get-up, going absolutely fucking
<i>nuts</i> in a way that only Robin could (a way, too, that she doesn't get
the chance to anywhere near enough). Did Mr. T's cameos make me wish that he
simply hosted the show instead of Louis? Perhaps, but hey, at least there's no
shortage of energy between the two.
</p>
<p>
Of course, not everything works, but I honestly couldn't find it in myself to
really hate even the worst of this episode. "The Interesting Four" is our big
clunker of the night, and it's certainly an indefensible sort of bad, but I
want to find some appreciation for it; it feels like the work of a smart
writer trying to write the dumbest thing possible, but it's never able to push
into being stupidly delightful. Instead, it's simply a string of hammy
performances (Brad and Louis seem to be in some scenery-chewing competition)
tethered by a hokey premise. If that's the lowest we go, though, we're already
leaps and bounds ahead of Season 7. The other minor pieces in the show are
also charming enough: while the Donahue sketch has some <i>real</i> broad
ethnic caricatures, it also offers a delightful physical performance from Joe,
Tim scores a win with his "Don't Hitch-Hike" pretape, and Mary has some
devilish fun relishing in some (admittedly-toothless) Jerry Lewis jokes in her
little editorial. Overall, this episode was pretty much what I hope to see the
show shoot for at a baseline... so we'll see how well that expectation pans
out. <i>(Penned 4/11/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/09/82: Ron Howard / The Clash (S8 E03)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I feel like there's a basic rule to how Ebersol thinks about the show which
can have incredibly mixed results: if a character sketch is well-received, it
<i>will</i> return in the show's mission to offer its audience material that
they're already proven to be lukewarm on. Sometimes, this means we can see the
repeated return of a winning idea, like "Mister Robinson's Neighborhood,"
which always brings a certain joy to proceedings, or other times, it
encourages the show to think outside of the box and do more unconventional
things, such as how it's slotted Tyrone Green or Buckwheat into different
scenarios. But it's a tricky philosophy, though, because of how much it opens
the floodgates for limp reprisals. The Ron Howard episode unfortunately hits a
point of oversaturation with this dependency.
</p>
<p>
I mean, for Christ's sake, after last season made a point out of retiring
Velvet Jones... he's back, inexplicably, and without much justification in his
use for this reprisal—it just feels like a bit of damage control to ensure
that the audience feels rewarded for tuning in. (He does absolutely nothing
new here, though I suppose he rarely has.) The final "Hail to the Chief"
reprisal comes across similarly questionable; without Tony's excellent Ed
Meese impression to work off of, the sketch feels aimless, only existing for
the mild silliness of seeing Joe play both Reagan in the voiceover and Carter
in the flesh. And unfortunately, there's still a lot of juice left in the
Whiners in the writers' eyes, making their third appearance and far from their
last here and without anywhere near as good of a foil as Danny was in the last
installment, or even Tony before him. It's the sort of premise where fire
needs to be fought with fire, but Ron Howard can't convey very convincing
exasperation to save his life, and so he simply succumbs to being a doormat.
</p>
<p>
The good fortune of this episode lies mostly in the fact that, unlike many
episodes last season, it moves along quickly. To be honest, I feel like I'm
biased in favor of this episode, in spite of its lack of any true highlights,
simply because nothing overstays its welcome, and that feels so much more
merciful than what Season 7 threw at me. There's also an inherent likability
to Ron Howard, and it's fun to see him actively allowed to participate more
than Ebersol era hosts up to this point have been able to. It's sort of
amusing, too, to look back on a time where Ron Howard wasn't just a big-time
director, and where he had to contend with his legacy as an actor on
<i>The Andy Griffith Show</i> or <i>Happy Days</i>, as he playfully
acknowledges in a few pieces across the night. Those encompass some of the
night's most enjoyable pieces: another "Focus on Film" segment where he fights
for respect as a filmmaker from a skeptical Raheem Abdul-Muhammed, and the
obligatory sketch casting him as an adult Opie Taylor returning to his
morally-decayed hometown of Mayberry. (I haven't watched the show, but there's
a thrill to seeing everyone in the cast being able to act out characters that
are so dear to them alongside Ron.)
</p>
<p>
A few other things round out the night. My favorite sketch, however guiltily,
is "Sylvester School of Speech Therapy," a thin but undisguised excuse for
everyone to do their best Sylvester impressions, spit all over Tim, and force
a fun break out of Eddie. The Clash also contribute some fun performances,
even if the performance of their legendary punk rock anthem, "Should I Stay Or
Should I Go," suffers abominable mixing. (They make for it in energy, and an
amusingly biffed attempt at blasting a dead boombox into the mic.) Lastly,
guest magician Harry Anderson returns to perform his most memorable trick yet:
driving a hat needle through his arm and making me squirm even now, just
thinking about it. He's rarely done a ton for me before, and I think this is
actually my first time mentioning him in my reviews, but I feel like I have to
give him some credit for the awful, visceral reaction it gave me; playing that
needle like a violin in his arm is one of the most distressing things I've
ever seen. Overall, though, this is a lackluster episode, even if it's by no
means a slog.
<i>(Penned 3/05/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/23/82: Howard Hesseman / Men At Work (S8 E04)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It feels, initially, rather strange that Howard Hesseman is the first
original-era host that Ebersol would invite back to SNL. He's not someone who
has much of an established history with the show, only hosting a single time
in Season 5, though recalling that outing, it makes a strong case for Howard
to return. Amidst lackluster material, he emerged as a strong voice that
elevated everything that he was given, and he has a natural ease as a live
performer. Howard is the strongest component of this episode, too, though it
also benefits from having a different air about itself in general, fueled by a
certain freshness that Season 5, even at its best, seldom had.
</p>
<p>
You can tell that Howard is very passionate about this particular opportunity
he has to host the show, too, which fuels the most striking piece of the
night: his monologue, where he discusses his decision to host the show,
despite being told it was a bad idea, in tribute to John Belushi and in no
deference to any notion of taste. It's proven to be polarizing with some of
the people I've talked to, but to me, it's this amazing moment of catharsis.
It's not a clean or polished piece, with Howard turning his attempts to
reconcile with his friend's death into a Belushi-esque tirade, but there's
something raw and visceral and emotionally-honest about the whole display that
feels legitimately valuable, both as insight to the weight of Belushi's death
at the time and as a view into how the show wrestles with its own
image—especially at a point where the show is trying to simultaneously move
into a different era.
</p>
<p>
The sketches that follow embody a certain strange, darker energy that feels
like an extension of that message in the monologue, too—"The world is not run
according to good taste." Sometimes that doesn't necessarily work, as in the
coming out sketch which does a bit of role reversal that maybe felt more
stirring in 1983 (Gary coming out as <i>straight</i> to his <i>gay</i> father,
OMG!). Other times the darkness of a piece earns it heaps of "Jesus fucking
Christ" energy as in "Uncle Teddy's Little Theatre," with Joe's pedophilic
janitor introducing a one-act play about a child (Gary) who receives nothing
but scorn and punishment from his family for simply existing. (Amidst all of
that, though, it does find a flawless out: after his grandfather gives him a
gun to shoot himself with, he immediately uses it to mug him instead.) The
best piece of the night is also one of the most joyfully tasteless, with a
family reacting in shock at the wake of a loved one when they discover his
body is completely naked. It risks being cheap but thankfully becomes a
delightful ensemble piece instead, with Tim awkwardly attempting to
micromanage or temper the expectations of every shocked guest who approaches
the casket. (Eddie gets an especially fun turn as a frustrated mechanic: "He
owes me $400, he said he would give it to me!" Tim: "Well, he hasn't got it on
him, okay!?")
</p>
<p>
It's ultimately a very hard episode to land on, but one driven by an
appreciable viscerality. The Ebersol era has proven difficult for me to assess
because it so rarely is able to be consistently funny, but an episode like
this feels like one that succeeds because there's always a passion to it. It's
really trying, and the fact that its attempts to shock the audience or be
cathartic are still felt decades later means that there's something successful
about it. I look forward to seeing what Howard will continue to bring to the
show when he hosts later this season. <i>(Penned 5/18/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/30/82: Michael Keaton / The New Joe Jackson Band (S8 E05)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Well... what a tragically humdrum episode. It's not that this one comes across
as a full-fledged disaster on screen in the slightest, but it's a painful one
knowing its circumstances. Michael Keaton was a truly dedicated host, spending
the long nights leading up to his hosting gig working closely alongside the
cast, but when he floundered through the week's read-throughs, Dick Ebersol
panicked and booked Michael Palin as an emergency special guest. I can't
imagine how much that sort of move stung, and even though Keaton is trying his
hardest throughout the show, you can tell he took it very personally,
culminating in him walking away from the stage in the middle of the
goodnights. I'm so grateful that Michael Keaton got better hosting gigs down
the line where he could feel more in his element and shine—his Season 40 gig
is, full stop, one of my favorites—but this one makes for a tepid and
disappointing debut.
</p>
<p>
It's true that Michael isn't a very great host, but I also think that comes
from how his very idiosyncratic energy is misused. He's not someone that you
can easily cast as a straight man or put in a box; he has a nervous and
unnerving but genial energy, and the writers never figured out what to do with
it. He's perfectly fine in the cold open, a backstage bit that finds him
panicking about the live show after learning there will be no cue cards
tonight, and his monologue is okay too—not very good material, but he's an
endearing presence. It's not until all the way in the back-half, though, that
he re-emerges before the audience, in the "Bill Smith Cares" mini-epic playing
a very thankless role. One final appearance playing second fiddle to a Michael
Palin piece drives home the discomforting lack of faith Ebersol presented him,
but also the lack of legitimate opportunity.
</p>
<p>
Unfortunately, for the most part, the material is nothing to write home about
either, so the fail-safe aspect of the evening doesn't particularly work
either. Neither of the two Michael Palin bits are particularly good, for
instance, carried more by his likability than a strength in the writing, if at
all. There's a Python-esque quality to the first, casting him as the reader of
a spooky story that is actively befalling him, but it loses steam as it
struggles to escalate; the second piece, meanwhile, has some polite laughter
from poking fun at poor translations ("May your house be full of Belgians!"),
but the funny foreign culture routine is rather thin. The more cast-centric
sketches aren't anything too amazing either, even if I want to like some of
the ideas at play. I still stand by "The Interesting Four" being a premise so
cliched and stupid that it borders on working, and there's more to enjoy here
than in the first installment (especially with the time loop portion), but yet
again the ceiling isn't very high and it ends up feeling too childish for its
own good. Meanwhile, the aforementioned "Bill Smith Cares" is closer to
working for me and has some interesting character moments, but it feels
sluggishly paced and unsure of what its own focal point should be.
</p>
<p>
There is a bit of good, though. We do get one particularly strong sketch in
the mix, and Julia Louis-Dreyfus' first big showcase: "Snookie," casting her
as a woman who uses a stuffed teddy bear to communicate her emotional and
sexual desires to her date, played by Tim. It's a strange, slice-of-life sort
of piece, but Julia is so good at having an underlying mania in her eyes,
flickering between her character's aloofness and the teddy bear baby-talk,
while Tim, as usual, plays a perfect, befuddled straight man attempting to win
a game that he refuses to get to the level of. (He eventually wins by coaxing
her into hooking up with an impromptu sock puppet, which is a nice out.) Also:
The New Joe Jackson Band kinda slaps?? Joe Jackson blasts through two solid
performances including his biggest hit, "Steppin' Out," a strange pop
concoction that borders on hyped-up loungecore and somehow features both synth
and a xylophone—it's like pop music from a split in the timeline that
atrophied as soon as it started, but I dig it. The rest of this episode,
though, is disappointingly not up to very much at all. <i>(Penned 3/08/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/13/82: Robert Blake / Kenny Loggins (S8 E06)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
The Robert Blake episode SNL has a very special sort of reputation, for a lot
of reasons. For one, it's hosted by Robert Blake, and there's always a
strangely unnerving atmosphere to episodes that are emceed by murderers. And
even predating that, the stories of his abhorrent behavior backstage—most
notably wiping one of Gary's sketch scripts with his ass—make this one feel
particularly tense, like a balancing act of letting Robert just fulfill his
hosting duties but also trying to spend as much time away from him as humanly
possible without that misery being too obvious. But perhaps most interestingly
about this episode is the fact that, for decades, it remained one of the most
elusive episodes in the show's history, and due to the extent that Ebersol
gutted it for reruns, some of its material was thought to be lost forever...
until 2021. I have the great fortune of being able to view, courtesy of Daren
O'Toole and Bronwyn Douwsma, reconstructed copies of episodes from this era,
and they've offered me a chance to see the show as it originally aired, a
luxury that few people have and which I am eternally grateful for. In other
words: I hold the immense privilege of having gotten to see "The Best Little
Whorehouse On the Prairie" and can confidently say: it was, like, fine!
</p>
<p>
Truthfully, if it weren't for Blake's unsettling presence or the mythical
quality of this episode' lost material, it wouldn't be particularly notable at
all, which is a shame, because I do still feel some deeper obligation to
really discuss it. I'll say this much: for everything that it has against it,
this episode is honestly not the worst that the show has to offer. Within the
context of Season 8, it's definitely the weakest outing we've had yet, but as
with the rest of the season, there's still something inherently watchable
about it, perhaps even breezy, compared to how last season struggled with
bouts of interminable deadness. The lowest the episode gets are when Blake is
on the screen and the show struggles to figure out how to insert him.
"Whorehouse" isn't terrible, and it makes the best use of him all night, but
it's also a bit dull in spite of its provocative premise, however livened by
some fun details and performances. ("It has been a good year... our daughters
haven't gone blind lately!") Elsewhere, he plays himself in the cold open with
all-too-dead-eyed machismo before punching Julia in the stomach—charming
fellow!—and leads off a Little Rascals reunion for the monologue, perhaps just
an excuse to trot Buckwheat out again but charming as a whole.
</p>
<p>
There's a bit more snap when Blake isn't around. I liked the space shuttle
sketch, for instance, despite how dangerous the premise of Eddie's astronaut
being romantically in love with Joe is; it's the very matter-of-fact way that
Eddie portrays his character, and how Joe attempts to mediate rather than
defaulting to more predictable gay panic, that allows it to feel a cut above
similar premises from this time period. I similarly got some guilty enjoyment
out of the "Masterful Theatre" piece, even if it was a mess. These years seem
very interested in trying to emulate Python-esque absurdity, all too often to
wince-inducing effect, but there's something to how this one is just firing in
all directions in a very anarchic manner that actually, almost works (barring
the awkward shoe-horning of Blake's character). Eddie walks away with the most
successful pieces from the episode, though, a reggae-fueled outing for Tyrone
Green as he sings about killing all white people and a satirical editorial
about how he doesn't actually hate white people while discussing the neglected
impact they've had in our culture.
</p>
<p>
Ultimately, the enjoyable moments from this episode keep it from being a
complete disaster, but it certainly teeters. If nothing else, it's a testament
to the improvements that Season 8 has been making that it never succumbs to
being anything truly dreadful. <i>(Penned 3/12/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/20/82: Drew Barrymore / Squeeze (S8 E07)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
While the show is quick to poke fun at Ebersol's fascination with gimmicks and
questionable decision-making in this episode's cold open, I feel like I should
be quick to point out that I absolutely adore them. It's hard to describe
Ebersol's vision, but it feels almost detached from the zeitgeist; he's the
sort of programmer who forgoes bringing in exclusively ringers from the last
era in favor of an array of hosts that include comedy legacy acts like the
Smothers Brothers next week and Sid Caesar, newsman Edwin Newman, mayor Ed
Koch, or the co-hosting gig of Michael Palin and his mother. It's through that
same interest in bold experimentation that he decided it would be a good idea
to have Drew Barrymore host the show, fresh off of her role in <i>E.T.</i>, at
the age of seven—the youngest person to ever host the show up to that point,
and since.
</p>
<p>
Now, does that make for a good episode of SNL? That's a question that's very
much up for the debate, but y'know what? It's just... cute! And I would say
that makes it a successful experiment, if an irreplicable one. This is by no
means a normal, functioning episode of the show, but it shouldn't really be
expected to be; it's basically just an opportunity for us to watch a little
girl having a really fun week, and there's charm to that. While I immediately
leapt to making a parallel between Drew's episode and Jodie Foster's from
Season 2, there's no denying that Jodie is a more functional host who is able
to actually play at the level of the show's usual writing; Drew, on the other
hand, is very much cradled to the finish line, but there's a sweetness that
emerges from how gamely everyone in the cast plays along with her. It's sort
of like the rule in improv that your number one priority is making everyone
around you look good, and it stands as a testament to how quick everyone is on
their feet that they protect their young host without ever treating her as a
liability. She's a participant, just like the rest of them.
</p>
<p>
My favorite parts, in fact, were the moments that paired her up with Tim, who
basically served as her spiritual chaperone across the episode. One of his
most underrated qualities as a performer is his ability to find a rapport with
anyone or anything, regardless of how cooperative they are, and while we
mostly see that emerge in the "I Married A Monkey" sketches, that same charm
comes through in the pieces he performs with Drew. The monologue, with him
reading questions to Drew from index cards, works better than it should simply
because there's a warmth to how he jokes with her, playfully scolding Drew
every time she peeks at his cue cards and ad-libbing over her occasional
moments of hesitation. Watching Drew dress Tim up like a woman and have a wire
hanger swordfight is similarly charming, because even if the show isn't in
pursuit of big laughs, it just wants you to smile. Drew is naturally a lot
more wobbly in the pieces that ask her to deliver punchlines, like the cold
open or the obligatory <i>E.T.</i> sketch, but the writing still plays to her
favor—because one-liners about how Drew killed E.T. are naturally pretty
entertaining—as do the performances of those around her. (Eddie breaking
character as Mr. T in the latter sketch to tell her "Very good" when she
momentarily flubs a cue is probably the funniest moment in the whole episode.)
</p>
<p>
This also an episode that wisely devotes a decent chunk of its time to another
gimmick, featuring the infamous call-in stunt regarding whether or not Andy
Kaufman should ever be allowed to perform on SNL again. It's a clever
follow-up to last season's Larry the Lobster experiment, and while it lacks
the newness of that concept, it makes up for it with the stakes. Andy is at
the most polarizing that he has ever been, and you can tell from the way the
audience cheers and jeers with every update on the vote tallies that even if
Andy's idea will ultimately hoist him by his own petard, they're eating out of
the palm of his hand, exactly how he would like it. It's a shame we won't see
him on the show again, but what a way to go out.
</p>
<p>
Between those two things, this episode is certainly an odd one, but ultimately
enjoyable. (The two killer Squeeze performances also certainly don't do any
harm.) It'll never end up being one for the highlight reels, but it feels like
a special, charming little moment in time, and it's rare for SNL to feel this
endearing. For that, it gets a pass. <i>(Penned 3/09/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/04/82: The Smothers Brothers / Laura Branigan (S8 E08)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I was very enticed by this episode when I saw it, scrolling through Season 8.
It's not that I'm a huge Smothers Brothers fan necessarily; despite generally
knowing about their place within the counterculture and how influential and
controversial they were, I merely understand them within that historical
context and have never really been exposed to their comedy. Even so, though,
it's a cause for excitement, as it always is for me, to see such a venerable
act take the SNL stage, and this feels like an especially fun instance. It's
clear that SNL holds them to a venerable regard, giving the two sketch comedy
icons plenty of room to incorporate their classic double act into the program,
but true to their humble and nonchalant brand, it never feels like the
Smothers Brothers are above the show or those that they have to work with. It
doesn't even feel like watching the new kids playing with their heroes,
either; it just feels like the Smothers Brothers being on SNL is as big of an
honor for the show as it is for them, and there's something incredibly
endearing about that synergy.
</p>
<p>
It's also nice that they feel like more a part of the proceedings than, say,
Peter Cook and Dudley Moore did. They're just kinda palling around, sometimes
making brief appearances in sketches focused on other cast members, and other
times being an equal member of the ensemble. I enjoyed, for instance, the
sketch casting Tom Smothers as the patriarch of a television-obsessed family
that struggles to reconcile with the concept of the real world when their
television goes out. It's a somewhat hackneyed premise in modern times, but
the performances work and the tension builds into cacophonous outrage quite
nicely. There's also the ledge sketch, boasting both wonderful camera trickery
and a stellar performance from Eddie as a man whose entire support system
commits suicide after realizing that their lives suck while trying to talk him
off an edge; it's packed full of great little character moments, and Eddie
proves to be a great anchor for it with some hilarious bits of dialogue, but
the funniest bit is Tom randomly wandering along the edge and retreating when
he realizes Eddie's already taken it. (They're also generous enough to step
back from the show and cede the time for some solid, cast-only pieces,
including a particularly affecting Pudge and Solomon installment.)
</p>
<p>
Since this is a Smothers Brothers episode, though, we also get a handful of
really fun little pieces of their act, and unsurprisingly they work well. The
monologue is pretty much just an opportunity for them to do some of their
shtick, but it's a solid shtick, with Dick Smothers attempting to describe
what a song means to him while Tom guilelessly nods along and dodges the line
of questioning that threatens to reveal how lost he is in the moment. A later
bit, with Dick doing a PSA advocating for condoms by stressing they help
families have only one child instead of risking a second one as stupid as Tom,
is even more fun and succinct. None of this material is really new ground for
them or their comedic personas, but it's just fun to see them given the credit
they deserve and the room to be themselves; as they joke during the
goodnights, they're relieved to discover they survived the night without
driving it to cancellation. Simply put, this episode is a well-deserved
victory lap for the two, and there's quite a lot of joy to be had.
<i>(Penned 3/10/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/11/82: Eddie Murphy / Lionel Ritchie (S8 E09)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
And so, we reach one of the most famous episodes of the Ebersol era: Eddie
Murphy's inaugural hosting gig. I was worried going into this one, simply
because there is so much potential for that curiosity factor to be the death
knell of this episode. It is, after all—in addition to the only time SNL has
only been hosted by an active cast member—an episode bred from unfortunate and
last-minute circumstance. This one was originally supposed to be hosted by
Eddie's <i>48 Hours</i> co-star, Nick Nolte, but when Nolte was knocked out by
a sickness in the last minute, SNL had to scramble to rewrite almost all of
what had been planned. Now this is a struggle that, shockingly, is not
particularly new to the Ebersol writer's room, but it's also a struggle which
has brought about some of the most sluggish emergency back-up material (think
back to Donald Pleasance or Tim Curry's episodes); it's safe to say that there
would subsequently be the concern that this show would feel particularly
cobbled-together. It's miraculous, then, that this episode cruises along so
assuredly, circumstances be damned, and while it's not a classic, it's a
pretty great time.
</p>
<p>
In a lot of ways, it's an episode that mirrors its impromptu host. The
significance of Eddie cannot be overstated within the history of the show,
though many people try to overstate it anyway: it's obvious, when he appears
on the screen, that the studio and the show lights up. He's the sort of
effortless performer who can will anything into working just that little bit
more, an ability that Ebersol is quick to exploit. With that being said,
though, it doesn't feel like this episode throws Eddie out to carry weak
material on his back. Instead, he gives all the material an extra spring in
its step. I'm hesitant of prolonged Christmas special sketches, for instance,
which tend to drag relentlessly for me, but "Merry Christmas, Dammit!" flies
by through the strength of Eddie's Gumby impression, subverting the expected
jolliness with his crotchety, arbitrarily-Jewish candor. Appearances from
Joe's reliable Sinatra (crooning cartoon themes, of all things) and a wild
make-out scene between Julia and Gary as two Osmond siblings make for strong
assists, but there's nothing better than Gumby kicking a child out of his
house and making her walk to Andy Williams' Christmas special through the
blistering cold.
</p>
<p>
That's definitely the peak of the night, and a well-deserved one, but I found
most of the other material pretty likable as well! There's maybe some
questionability to the premise of "Dance Theater for the Blind," with Joe and
Julia observing a distressing ballet production where the dancers inelegantly
traipse through their routine, but it works simply on the strength and
commitment of the performances (Gary takes an amazingly shocking fall, just
another reason I love him so much already), and the twist ending is devilishly
superb. Eddie also delivers in his monologue, which I've been told is
basically a condensed version of every joke from <i>Delirious</i> that Eddie
would be able to tell on NBC, but hey, jokes about getting in a fight with
Stevie Wonder are always gonna be winners! Other pieces are more minor, but at
least offer something to appreciate: the cold open is a nice way to frame the
historical significance of the episode, the "Herpes Complex" sketch is slight
but well-performed, and the debut of the Eddie's flamboyantly gay hairdresser
character, Dion... was inevitable! (Hopefully he'll return to better effect.)
</p>
<p>
Even if this isn't as strong of an episode as people may believe it to be,
it's one that's packed with charm and good spirits. Hell, it ends with
<i>Steve fuckin' Martin</i> storming onstage during the goodnights and ranting
about how he wasn't called in as an emergency host—the amount of joy I got in
that moment alone more than makes up for the occasional tribulations of this
evening. It's those little things that give this episode a special aura, and
even if it maybe doesn't live up to the hype, that doesn't mean it isn't a
wonderful time. <i>(Penned 3/19/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/22/83: Lily Tomlin / Pervis Hawkins (S8 E10)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
As time has gone on, Lily Tomlin as an SNL host has felt weirder and weirder
to me. I used to frame her as being almost too good for the level that the
show was playing at, maybe because her first two hosting gigs came about at a
time where the show was still in its relative infancy, but now that we're into
the show's eighth season and its format feels more solidified... it feels as
if the way she treats the show hasn't changed. To Lily, SNL is a chance to
reprise all of her characters and for the show to get to her level, rather
than becoming a cog in the pre-existing machinery, and the result here is an
episode that feels more like a Lily Tomlin comedy special that the SNL cast
got to participate in than an episode emceed by a gracious host. While that's
not strictly bad, it also leaves SNL feeling borderline unrecognizable.
</p>
<p>
There's also that all of Lily's characters have a broadness stemming from a
different period of comedy, and it feels sort of like it exists in an uncanny
valley school of performance. Lily is very, very good at what she does, and
these characters are generally fun, but they also feel obsolete and jarring to
bear witness to in the 1980s. At best, a sketch is strong enough that you have
to reconcile with and embrace the way with which she inhibits her characters,
though fortunately this is the case most of the time. It's fun to see her
pretaped appearances as her housewife character, Judith Beasley, demonstrating
cost-effective ways to sneak a free meal out of the grocery store ("Don't
pluck more than a wing," she says after pulling one off of a rotisserie
chicken, "since this would be stealing, which I am morally against."); she
similarly brings a spark to her appearance as her brash telephone operator
Ernestine, playing dirty to win back a family that has unplugged their
company-owned phone. At worst, though, the show just doesn't work, a fact most
underlined by Lily's baffling musical performance as "Purvis Hawkins," dressed
in pseudo-blackface and performing some awkward, Marvin Gaye-esque spoken word
with an unearned swagger. In those moments, it's hard to feel like Lily is
anything beyond a force of nature, a compliment as much as a criticism.
</p>
<p>
Whenever Lily is willing to make room for the cast around her to shine, the
episode is at its best, though these moments are few and far between. My
favorite piece was seeing her little girl character Edith Ann paired up with
Julia, with the two using imaginary tales to bicker at each other; even if the
performances are overly-animated, the two have such a strong rapport, and it
feels like one of the rare moments where Lily is both playing by her own
specifications and letting the cast accompany her. Still, the fact that even
some of her appearances in cast-led pieces felt like they swallowed up
everything around her—she makes, most notably, a disjointed appearance in the
otherwise enjoyable "Fantasy" sketch as a lounge singer persona who completely
deviates from the direction the sketch is going in—makes this episode a bit
hard to assess. I'd say that it's ultimately okay, though I wish that like the
Smothers Brothers before her that she'd have been more game to entertain the
show's whims. As it stands, this is almost strictly a vanity project, but
thank God Lily is likable enough that it's watchable.
<i>(Penned 3/11/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/29/83: Rick Moranis & Dave Thomas / The Bus Boys (S8 E11)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
As the fates would have it, it seems like it's time for another episode that I
can tell is of a certain quality, but which I simply can't get into! (We need
at least one per season, it's an essential part of my personal bingo card.)
It's perhaps damning, for someone in my position, to say that they have very
limited familiarity with SCTV, but the truth is the truth, and an awareness of
what Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas do is sort of an essential factor in being
able to connect with this episode. More than anything else, it serves as an
extension of their SCTV tenure, allowing them to bring back some of their most
popular characters for another fun go-around, to the delight of their SNL
audience. Unfortunately, for me to not be attuned to that headspace means that
the night very frequently left me with a lack of essential context, if one
that I at least hope to rectify in the future.
</p>
<p>
Where I can award them credit is the fact that they are two remarkable
performers, and especially comparing their style to our previous host, Lily
Tomlin, it feels like night and day. Whereas Lily gets lost in the caricatures
of her characters as she inhibits them, there's something more organic and
observational about Rick and Dave's sensibilities, and they feel far more
properly fitted into SNL's tone. Rather than taking over the show and forcing
it to operate at their will, they're far more willing to give some credit to
the talented performers around them. The two remain obvious anchors throughout
every piece, but there's also the room for fun intersectionality. I liked
seeing Joe's Sinatra woven into the cold open between Rick's meek Woody Allen
and Dave's mafioso Bob Hope, and it was interesting to see Tyrone Green woven
into the Dick Cavett game show sketch which, while not particularly strong,
featured some good chemistry between Rick and Eddie. (I also just enjoyed
seeing Rick's take on Cavett, someone whose smug lethargy is well-deserving of
a minor hit job.)
</p>
<p>
Unfortunately, this is also an episode composed of two prongs that I just
can't really get into: pop culture contemporary to the time period, and
characters of Rick and Dave's that I do not know. The latter at least left
more room for enjoyment because I could admire how much they dug into their
personas, but I'd be lying if I said I got much out of seeing them as, say,
the McKenzie Brothers. I enjoyed seeing them conduct the monologue as their
characters and then throw to a pretape of the two navigating the city, but it
felt, if not phoned-in, like a segment reliant on the natural excitement of
just seeing these characters back, which is something I lack. The material I
enjoyed the most, then, was the material that didn't necessitate a ton of
background information. "Hell Bent For Glory" was a funny enough
meta-deconstruction of war movie cliches, with all of the supporting
characters responding in outrage at the ways that their fates are sealed;
meanwhile, Rick anchored two pretty solid solo pieces, one as Gerry Todd
(another SCTV character, I know, but one that was easy to get a grip on)
showcasing bizarre television channels, and another as a rabbi discussing the
lost books of Moses.
</p>
<p>
Basically, if you know and like what Rick and Dave do, this'll be a fun outing
of the show. If not, it'll just feel like you're on the outside looking in.
<i>(Penned 3/18/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/05/83: Sid Caesar / Joe Cocker & Jennifer Warnes (S8 E12)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I recently did something of a dive through the history of comedy, and of all
of the people whose work I familiarized myself with, few struck me as much as
Sid Caesar. There's something about him as a performer that I immediately
found very captivating. He's certainly someone with shtick of a different
era—an era driven, seemingly, by ethnic stereotypes and deeply physical
performances in alternation—but it's also shtick executed with such a
technical proficiency by Sid that it remains impressive. It's miraculous, too,
that rather than feeling antiquated to see Sid digging through his old bag of
tricks some thirty odd years later, this is no second coming of Milton Berle.
Rather, it's a harmonious night, bridging the gap between sketch comedy past
and present, where the cast's reverence is only outmatched by Sid's
graciousness. In other words, it's absolutely lovely.
</p>
<p>
I mean, right from the start, it's sort of impossible to hate this episode: as
soon as Sid emerges in the cold open, the entire audience gives him a standing
ovation while he warmly smiles, the cast gathered around him like children
listening to his immaculate wordsmithing with legitimate adoration and awe on
their faces. In spite of his insane pedigree, Sid is absolutely humbled to be
there and to get a chance to play around with the new kids of sketch comedy,
and the best moments from this episode find him and the show meeting in the
middle. And that's so much more fun to see than an exercise in ego-massaging!
The best piece of the night is also one of the most surprising, finding Sid's
businessman walking in between a 1950s and modern-day hotel room lusting after
one of his co-workers; while he's meek to Mary's domineering, contemporary
woman, at one point yelling for him to take of his clothes and aggressively
licking his chest, his attempts to bat around the subject matter play as
aggressively blunt with Robin's mid-century counterpart, so frightened at how
Mary has ripped his shirt off that she recoils every time he enters the room
half-naked. While the sketch makes sense, perhaps, as a way to bridge Sid's
heyday to the present, it's also a piece that feels uncompromisingly SNL, and
seeing Sid submit himself to it and showing off some legitimate, dramatic
chops rather than ever needing to wink at the camera or fall back on his old
toolkit (<i>Milton...</i>) made it even more enjoyable. Even if it's to a
lesser effect, too, Sid brings his physical abilities to the latest Whiners
sketch as a vegetative patient overcome by bloodlust at the sound of Doug
Whiner on the opposite side of the hospital room. Still a bit sucky, but a
little less so than usual. It's small wins with the Whiners.
</p>
<p>
There were also several instances of the show working to present Sid with
material that played to his established strengths, though, lending the episode
a rather committed and thoughtful sense of idolatry. There's no greater
example of that than the night's centerpiece, the 13 minute long "Crime and
Self-Punishment" silent sketch, casting Sid as a boy-turned-adult genius
struggling against a childhood trauma of spilled beverages. It's a bit of a
hard piece to figure out what to do with but it's surprisingly sturdy all the
same and, of course, it features some wonderful physical acting from Sid and
the cast. (Sid's ability to make the visual of him <i>reading a book</i> funny
is a testament to his enduring charms.) He also gets an odd, disconnected SNN
segment as Professor Helmut von Biffed-word-from-Brad-Hall, effectively just a
chance to trot out his skills at double-talk, but it works well enough as he
reenacts foreign soap operas, and the audience is so into it that they help
create a very infectious energy.
</p>
<p>
The episode ends with the cast surprising Sid in the goodnights with a plaque
declaring him an honorary cast member, and dammit if it didn't give me the
biggest smile on my face. It makes me sad to know that Sid would never return
to 8H again, but seeing that he had the time of his life is an excellent
consolation prize. Good vibes and great strength—undoubtedly one of the
season's best. <i>(Penned 5/28/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/19/83: Howard Hesseman / Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers (S8 E13)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It's not surprising to see why Howard was tapped to host twice in the same
season. Sure, as Don Pardo announces during the goodnights, Marvin Gaye was
allegedly slated for double-duty, but Howard is a smart choice for emergency
back-up; he's a consummate pro who clearly loves the show, knows how to play
to the crowd, and values being a member of the ensemble above anything else
(no doubt a mentality stemming from his improvisational background). There's
definitely a sense from this episode that things didn't come together as
thoughtfully as usual because of Howard's need to step in, but it's a
testament to how he conducts proceedings that it's a fairly smooth and
enjoyable fair, even if not up to the par of his other hosting gig earlier
this season.
</p>
<p>
At the very least, SNL once again cedes Howard the monologue slot to do
whatever the hell he'd like, which is always a good proposition, and he takes
the opportunity to perform probably his most memorable moment as a host:
having a framed picture of Reagan wheeled out, and proceeding to rally at-home
audiences into mooning the image alongside him. I'd argue that it's less
substantive than the chilling piece he did earlier this season, but he carries
the thin, clapter-adjacent bit forth with the sort of effortless charm that
makes him such an enjoyable presence. There's something to be said of his
willingness to go all out and be so outspoken, recognizing the sort of
position that SNL offers him to contribute to ongoing cultural conversations;
it's a sort of subversiveness that this season has been lacking, and which I
greatly appreciate being able to see. Aside from that moment, though, Howard
is mostly led along a standard, if enjoyable episode, always adding as much to
a scene as he's allowed. Unfortunately, though, those opportunities are few
and far between, though I did greatly enjoy him in the "Holiday Inn" sketch, a
rather thin piece enlivened by bombastic performances from Howard and the PTC
gang who present an underwhelming "fiesta cheese platter" in melodramatic,
mariachi/matador regalia. It's slight, but guiltily enjoyable for sure.
</p>
<p>
Perhaps the strongest piece of the night was the "Mad Magazine Theatre"
sketch, skewering Mad parody conventions with a labored and characteristically
hacky parody of The Winds of War entitled "The Windbags of War." It's the sort
of sketch where, even if I have no idea what to make of some of its
specificity outside the vacuum of its creation, there's a gleefulness to how
scathing the pastiche is which makes it work, beating knowingly-tired
punchlines into submission. Outside of that, it's a very mixed bag. Eddie gets
two showcases, trotting out a decent Elvis impression and bringing back Dion
for a more slice-of-life styled piece, but neither really hits because they
feel like somewhat thin vanity projects. (The latter at least gave Mary a
chance to do a different characterization than usual, though it was sort of
sandbagged by Eddie's very insincere attempt at acting "gay.") Howard also
only gets to helm one piece in the night, an ad for a prank store to fuck with
your obnoxious vegetarian friends, but it ends up being more a testament of
his charisma in the face of rocky writing more than anything else.
</p>
<p>
I would've hoped for more for another Howard Hesseman hosting gig (and sadly,
his last), but what we got was just fine. <i>(Penned 3/23/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/26/83: Beau & Jeff Bridges / Randy Newman (S8 E14)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Well, we we overdue for a bad outing this season. I sort of knew, going into
the Beau and Jeff Bridges episode, that it was one of the season's weakest,
though I think it's interesting to observe why, especially in comparison to
what have made other unsuccessful episodes struggle; it's not that there's a
lack of energy or effort so much as that this episode alternates between being
aggressively dated and even more aggressively mean-spirited. It sort of ends
up embodying everything one would expect '80s SNL to be, but which it
thankfully, so rarely is. Unfortunately, on such an occasion as this, we're
left with a real nasty pile-up that was weak when it aired and is even weaker
now.
</p>
<p>
First of all, I don't really have an issue with SNL being mean-spirited in its
comedy, and there have been plenty of sketches in this era that have managed
to work for me in spite of the line that they straddle (see: "Uncle Teddy's
Little Theater"). The issue with this episode is that its weirdly antagonistic
sketches either lack a perspective or have one, but it's fucking awful. There
was definitely <i>something</i> to the sketch where Julia is a doomed teenager
with a massive zit on prom night, and the game of things getting perpetually
worse for her with the flow of people going in and out of their house should
have worked, but it's the sort of premise that needs a reprieve from the
negative energy that it's fixated upon; it almost gets there, too, with the
heart-to-heart between Julia and the Bridges brothers, but immediately undoing
that beat by having Eddie emerge and reveal how disingenuous they were really
shoots the whole scene in the foot. That pales in comparison, though, to the
scene buried in the back-half of the episode, where Gary's neighbor and cop
make fun of him for being a battered husband... and that's the only joke!
Isn't domestic abuse funny? Golly, men are such pussies if they get beat up by
<i>weak girls!!</i> Fucking bile.
</p>
<p>
If I can give the episode the vaguest bit of credit, it's nice to see how
incorporated Beau and Jeff Bridges are across the episode, appearing in almost
all of the material... but the material's also tepid at best. There's a little
bit of fun in their monologue, with the two engaging in a boxing match spurred
by the manipulation of their father Lloyd, and they do a cute little spoof of
his show as well, but both are rather slight. Perhaps their big showcase
sketch for the night as a duo is the uncomfortable massage sketch, with Jeff
playing an ambiguously homoerotic masseuse making advances on Beau, and it's a
piece with both a nauseating gay panic theme and the baffling, incestuous
context of the two being brothers as Jeff basically slides his hand into
Beau's crotch and feels up his ass. Kudos for doing it, for some reason?
</p>
<p>
Basically, the fact that I had to rely on Randy Newman for a chance to catch
my breath in the episode is a damning statement. I guess I thought the
"Texxon" sketch was pretty solid and scathing, and someone who isn't me could
probably get enjoyment out of the weird, long ski resort
<i>Casablanca</i> parody, but this one doesn't work. <i>(Penned 3/20/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">3/12/83: Bruce Dern / Leon Redbone (S8 E15)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I have been foiled by my expectations yet again! It was difficult not to be
excited about this episode, in large part due to being aware of the certain
centerpiece that has put it on the map, but for however triumphant one sketch
may be in an episode, there's still at least 50 more minutes of content to
fill. In a season where I've always been pretty content but rarely wowed, too,
it's hard to know where to set my expectations anymore. To the credit of this
latest Bruce Dern hosting gig, there's definitely a unique and generally
exciting energy, but to what end? Well... a mixed one.
</p>
<p>
This episode is chaos in a lot of ways, some better than others. It feels
like, for instance, that Bruce Dern's presence helps enable the show to
approach a level of darkness that we rarely see. I really enjoyed the cold
open as the climactic summation of this season's ongoing backstage narrative
about Gary being perpetually cut out of the show, for instance. It's a great
crescendo that Gary commits to with some fine acting—Bruce, in fact, advised
him to play his suicidal state as realistically as possible—and all of the
great, apathetic details sprinkled about (Tim was interviewed by his hometown
newspaper, and his parents came to watch the show from Eddie's dressing room)
give it a particularly dark punch. We also get pieces as insane as Bruce's
monologue, where he relishes in the audience's primal obsession with graphic
violence, or "The Home for Disgusting Practices" sketch, where Bruce mediates
over a group of sociopathic mental patients. It's the glimmer in the eyes of
the performers, getting to engage in something so gleefully transgressive,
that gives such material a spark. On the other hand, though, we get a pile-up
of Joe and Eddie's most ego-massaging junk. Aside from the Jerry Lewis class
sketch, so abrasive and dumb that it tickles me, the one-two-three punch of
the racial stereotype beer commercials that murder the back-half of the show
are truly pitiful, culminating in the two doing the most degrading "Chinaman"
routine I've seen in some time. (Keep the buck teeth to the Jerry Lewis
impressions, please.)
</p>
<p>
The bulk of this episode's legacy, though, rests in the legendary "Buckwheat
Gets Shot" arc that gets set up here, surely the most ambitious and
well-remembered idea to come out of the Ebersol era and one of the most
memorable stunts in SNL's history. What better way to use an audience favorite
character that you're tired of bringing back than having a special report
disrupt the live show, informing the audience that they've been assassinated?
And moreover, the way that this episode uses an idea that insane as a tool for
sneaky good satire, skewering media sensationalism by finding every possible
excuse to milk the footage of Buckwheat's assassination (shown, each time, in
progressively slower motion) all while NBC and advertisers find ways to profit
off of it, is as scathing as it is innately funny to see Buckwheat get slain,
repeatedly, by his assassin. It's a deservingly legendary segment, and I
cannot wait to see how the narrative continues to develop over the next two
episodes!
</p>
<p>
But ultimately, it's a bit of a bummer that the rest of this episode doesn't
maintain those heights. This isn't a bad show, but it's one with dizzying
heights and dreary lows that ultimately amount to a pretty middle-in-the-road
affair. At least there are things worth bragging about.
<i>(Penned 3/24/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">3/19/83: Robert Guillaume / Duran Duran (S8 E16)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Sometimes you get a host who certainly isn't bad, but also just isn't...
right, and Robert Guillaume is one such host. I was somewhat intrigued about
what this episode could offer simply because Robert was originally slated to
host in Season 6 after Bill Murray, a factoid that goes forgotten amidst the
sudden gutting and retooling that forced the season off of the air for a
month, but seeing him host at long last makes me think that there wasn't much
of value lost on his part. It's not that Robert lacks the enthusiasm or the
energy (he saunters on-stage with a nice, groovy boogie), and he's on the
verge of being great, and yet he's not. Across this episode, he feels far too
stilted and, in his nonchalance, disconnected from the world around him in his
sketch performances.
</p>
<p>
I say this not as if he's the sole reason this episode doesn't quite cohere,
but there's also a sense that a tighter host might've been able to have more
fun with what was offered. You can feel that strain in the Old South sketch
especially; it's a sloppily-written piece that seemingly just exists to give
Eddie a showcase, but it's also a sketch that asks for Eddie to be matched by
an equally locked-in performer. Robert just can't fulfill that mold, and the
sketch meanders as he flusters about, not necessarily out-of-character so much
as out-of-humor. He's not used well in anything else that he's offered, though
his loose, naturalistic energy at least feels like it somewhat makes sense in
the latest "Pudge and Solomon" piece, and one of the better installments for
the two already-great recurring characters. Robert isn't asked to do hardly
anything but be there and give a fairly straight performance as Solomon's
gynecologist nephew, and he's perfectly capable of that, letting Eddie riff
all over him if not necessarily inviting him into that world.
</p>
<p>
Elsewhere, the night is a very mixed bag. It hits its peak right at the start
with the second installment of the Buckwheat trilogy, a lesser-known entry
about Buckwheat's killer that is, nevertheless, even better than the first.
All the scathing satire is still there, casting Eddie as John David Stutts, a
serial killer who doesn't deserve to be glorified and yet receives a full
video package about his early life with testimonials from the people around
him about how unsurprising it is that he shot Buckwheat. It's also one of
Eddie's funniest and most uncharacteristic SNL performances ever, playing
Stutts with a dopey and disconnected affectation—when asked if he shot
Buckwheat, he simply purrs "Suuuure," and when he's shot by another assailant,
he lets out a deadpan non-welp of "Ooooouch, I'm shot" that gets funnier with
every single repetition. Robin also gets a pretty decent spotlight sketch in
the form of "The Mrs. T Birthday Special," which is perhaps formless and
features Mary in a frustrating, random blackface role, but there's a simple
joy to watching Robin be given the room to just go insane and command the
stage in a way that she has the insanely-untapped ability to. On the downside,
though, we get another parody record-a-thon with "Heil Hits," featuring dull,
Nazi-fied takes on popular music, and perhaps the most infamous iteration of
"I Married A Monkey," if in all the wrong ways; following an outburst during
dress where the chimp placed Tim in a near-fatal headlock, ripped off his
diaper, and started violently pleasuring itself, the poor thing was drugged
out and his teeth were pulled for the live show. I'm gonna say that's not
worth it, however controversially.
</p>
<p>
In the end, this is an episode that borders on being just good enough,
featuring some pretty enjoyable highlights, but they're balanced out
unfortunately by the episode's dead spots and a less-than-ideal host. That's
just how it goes sometimes. <i>(Penned 3/29/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">4/09/83: Joan Rivers / Musical Youth (S8 E17)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
There's as much excitement as there is fear to approach episodes where the
host is a force of nature. To have a host serve as a nucleus that threatens to
disorient the natural flow of an SNL episode is the sort of proposition that
goes one of two ways: either it becomes an all-hands-on-deck effort to
celebrate the idiosyncrasies of their guest for the evening, or said guest
ends up being thrown into proceedings like another cog in the machine. And
from there, too, the branches continue to break off, because yes, a case of
the former can be very bad (Andrew Dice Clay), or a case of the latter can be
very good (Sid Caesar). Fortunately, though, Joan Rivers' episode turned out
to be the best possible outcome: not only does it let her be the most defiant
version of herself, but the episode soars all the more for it.
</p>
<p>
Make no mistake: this is not a night that will demonstrate Joan's versatility,
but when you have someone like Joan Rivers, that's hardly an issue. She imbues
the night with a special, frequently acerbic energy, always intent to either
destruct or deconstruct. I would be remiss to pretend that it always works, so
I might as well just get it out of the way up top so that the good times can
roll: yes, sadly, there are some corners of the episode where Joan's Joan-ness
proves itself to be on the wrong side of history. Her incessant regurgitation
of Liz Taylor burns culminates in a dreadful, hacky bit with Joan
impersonating her in a fat suit, scarfing food down her throat and ripping her
pants with every slight movement, and it's a frustrating nadir that the
episode has to dig itself out of so early into the night... but then, how many
episodes of SNL are really perfect? Fortunately, too, the same acidity that
brings us a bit as bad as that brings us something as delightful as Joan
dueling against Joe's inexplicably-flawless Joan Rivers impression, the two
exchanging their nastiest barbs and self-owns while riffing on each others'
material. It's not a complex bit, but it's so raw and their chemistry is so
strong that it's intoxicating.
</p>
<p>
Joan also finds a remarkable scene partner in the form of Eddie in perhaps the
most surprising delight of the night, a slice-of-life scene casting the two as
demented, elderly versions of each other living in an old age home, two people
that time has since forgotten. I'll always be a sucker for sketches with this
sort of premise, and this might be one of SNL's finest explorations of the
idea; there's a deep melancholia to Joan's disoriented attempts at invoking
her old catchphrases ("Can we talk?" "She says that all the time, I guess it
was funny back then..."), and that sadness runs through the entire piece to
rather touching effect, but the entry of Eddie as his inexplicably-Jewish,
elderly self becomes an opportunity for the two to sweetly reminisce on their
peak years. Of course, too, if you just want some more classic Eddie goodness,
this episode also contains one of the most beautifully chaotic pieces in the
show's history, "Club Dolittle," a stilted advertisement for a nightclub that
gets derailed by a sudden, unscripted cake fight between Joe and Eddie. It's
one of those perfect, serendipitous moments—you just <i>cannot</i> write
anything as good as Eddie getting knocked so far off-script that he has to
duck in and out of frame and scream "THIS IS LIVE TELEVISION!" at the top of
his lungs while cake is flying at his face. Classic fuckin' shit.
</p>
<p>
Honestly, it's amusing that this is an episode with <i>so</i> many wonderful
highlights that it's easy to forget that it also contains the conclusion of
the three episode-long Buckwheat saga, though perhaps that's also just because
this is the most inessential. It's not bad, per se, but compared to how well
the previous two satirized how much media fetishizes the culture of celebrity
death and celebrity murders, having our third installment focus on the
exploitation of Buckwheat's image by showing a clip of him acting like a
sleazeball and then trotting out some tribute impersonation acts feels a bit
like a return to sketch comedy training wheels. (Yes, it's fun to see
Buckwheat push a lit cigarette into the hand of a member of his entourage and
say "No more 'mokin, 'tay?" I'll give it that.) The rest of the episode
similarly floats around that amicable region, though nothing actively detracts
and there's usually something to appreciate: the Oscars sketch is perhaps
rather cutesy, for instance, but I admire some of the more absurd puns and
character details to it, and "Carribean Gyno" is another fun chance to let
Eddie just do his thing while offering Joan a chance to be more of a team
player in a sketch for once. Can't be too angry about that.
</p>
<p>
Is this a perfect episode? No. But dammit, sometimes it doesn't matter how
perfect an episode is if it's fun, and you'll find few episodes with as much a
sense of fun permeating around every nook and cranny as this one. You've done
well, Season 8. <i>(Penned 4/01/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">4/16/83: Susan Saint James / Michael McDonald (S8 E18)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Susan Saint James, as a host, is a bit hard for me to get a grasp on. It's not
that I don't know why she's here, hosting for the second time: her first
episode clearly endeared her to more than just the cast, considering she
claimed Dick Ebersol as her new hubby afterwards. (It's honestly surprising
that she didn't host more after this because of it.) She's just the sort of
odd host for this era who neither detracts nor adds much, all while being
maintained at the episode's center as if she exudes more strength than she
actually does. I'm glad she's palpably happy to be back, at least, and she
helms an outing for the show which alternates between modest success and
failure.
</p>
<p>
Whereas Susan is merely an amicable host, I want to spotlight that there's a
certain conceptual nature to a lot of the material in this episode which gives
it a unique flavor. Sure, none of these sketches reach any particularly
dizzying heights, but in a season that often feels like it minimizes risk and
sticks to what it knows works, no matter how staid (hell, we get a random
Velvet Jones reprisal here, a year after his retirement), it feels refreshing
to see something as silly as a game show called "Sit On It!" all about
celebrity contestants having to guess famous statuettes with their rumps, or
the sketch reimagining a ladies' restroom as an idyllic, feminine hinterland
that Joe and Tim encroach upon. The most successful of these sketches, and my
favorite of the night, was the magical fish sketch, casting Eddie as a
storybook fisherman who, skeptical of the wish offers of a magical fish,
brings his attorney in for negotiation. Again, it's no season highlight, but
there's a delightful blend of absurdity (Eddie rattles off some great lines in
his deadpan: "I hope I catch a fish. Otherwise, my wife Bubbles will hit me
with a spoon.") and deadening realism (Tim as attorney Mike Rodell is perfect)
that really tickles me. It's also fitting that stand-up Stephen Wright makes
his debut here, furthering the episode's cerebral headspace with his
effortlessly brilliant one-liners—I eagerly anticipate his return, as he
brought me the hardest laughs I got all night.
</p>
<p>
However, there's also the issue of this episode being dragged down by some
horrible lows, some of which border on harrowing. Once again, SNL picks the
bones of its song parody obsession with some James Watt-inspired ditties that
land even less than before while going on literally twice as long as usual.
For however much of a soul-sucking enterprise as that might be, though, it
pales in comparison to the Deng Xiaoping sketch that rounds out the night,
casting Tim as Deng who, alongside Brad and Julia, submits some truly
horrifying hack accent work. I love Tim, I really do, but learning this was
actually a trunk piece of his from Second City... it's just another reminder
that there are some things we should leave in the past. There are few sketches
I've seen from SNL which have felt more degrading of my cultural identity, so
I naturally can't wait to see the Ebersol era continue to dig into this can of
worms as much as I've been told they do.
</p>
<p>
The tug-and-pull of what's good about this episode versus what's bad is a
rather difficult one for me to make a definitive judgment on, but in the end,
I think it just barely doesn't get over. Those unforgiveable lows are a bridge
too far to cross, and it's a shame that they would sour this episode's
successes, but alas, sometimes the '80s just have to be the '80s.
<i>(Penned 4/27/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">5/07/83: Stevie Wonder (S8 E19)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I expect dorky dad energy from a host like Ralph Nader, someone who eventually
got the chance to host SNL and reveal his personality after years of work in
the nerd-riddled field of consumer advocacy. I don't expect that, however,
from Stevie Wonder, the best-selling, three-time Grammy Record of the
Year-winning "regional sales manager of soul." Lo and behold, that was
probably this episode's greatest revelation: Stevie is the goofiest ham you
could ever meet. These sort of hero/legacy host episodes tend to have a bit
more of an aloof or reverent, "we're not worthy!" sensibility to them—I think
back to Johnny Cash, or Ray Charles from the previous era—and while it does
very much feel like Stevie's hosting gig is a particularly enchanting week for
the cast, there's never a moment where Stevie, in his intense goobering,
allows himself to be placed on a pedestal. He's just here to have a really fun
time and play around with everyone, his status be damned! This maybe isn't the
greatest episode as written, but it's certainly one of the cutest.
</p>
<p>
This is, truthfully, the sort of episode that I always have the most difficult
time talking about, because it's more about good vibes than legitimate
strength. Like, for as breezily as it goes by, I hesitate to consider any
best-of-season material. At the same time, though, there's nothing wrong with
sketches like "The Stevie Experience," casting Stevie as a dorky (surprise!)
Stevie Wonder impersonator who couldn't do a good impersonation to save his
life. ("People say I sound just like Stevie, but with one exception: you can
understand <i>every single word</i>," he self-deprecates.) All of that is a
thin excuse to have Eddie and Stevie do dueling Stevie Wonder impressions, and
it's a legitimately heartwarming bit of silliness, but it's not a strong piece
of writing. It's also the most successful of their pair-ups, which were no
doubt one of the biggest selling points of this hosting gig; they also team up
to pitch a cotton-picking tourist destination to relieve whites of their guilt
(no doubt the sharpest sketch of the night, writing-wise) and dredge up Dion
to give Stevie an attempted hair appointment.
</p>
<p>
Throughout the rest of the night, too, the fun is built off of performance
triumphing over written material. Tim carries a rather aimless sketch about
Hitler's secret diary entries like a champion, scoring laughs with his nebbish
loser characterization of the Führer, and Joe leads another piece as a
horribly disfigured busboy who gives Tim and Julia a horrible, sopping-wet
dining experience with the sort of commitment/indulgence that cements his
veteran status. (Funny how you only needed three seasons to cement that back
then, huh?) If I wore more cynical, I would say they're compensating for
lacking material, but I prefer to see it as a testament to how strong this
cast is and how unique all of their abilities are. And truthfully, too, if
there were any episode of the show to have more of a carefree party atmosphere
where fun is the most important trait, it should be this one. Stevie, through
it all, is an absolute delight, grinning from ear to ear in all of his sketch
appearances and his expectedly legendary musical numbers, cherishing every
second. If you're hoping for a strong episode of sketch comedy you may want to
look elsewhere, but if you just want a good, wholesome time, this one's got
your back. <i>(Penned 5/31/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">5/14/83: Mayor Ed Koch / Kevin Roland & Dexys Midnight Runners (S8
E20)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
A friend of mine, who shall remain nameless for the sake of his gratuitous
ego, described this episode as a "greatest hits of Season 8" episode, which I
don't think is incorrect, but I might use a slightly more damning term: this
feels like a Season 8 composite. Ebersol as executive producer strives for a
stable show, and to his credit, he's gotten good at producing exactly that.
It's unfortunate, then, that for as relatively pleasant as they are to watch,
they seldom offer any great surprises. With Ed Koch, SNL closes out the past
season with an appropriately underwhelming capper.
</p>
<p>
Koch, to his credit, is pretty damned funny here, and any failures of this
episode couldn't be pinned to him. He's no actor, and he'd be the first to
tell you that, but there's a joy to his willingness to roll with the punches
and let everyone around him skewer how well he's doing as the mayor of New
York. That gameness helps give an extra punch to the rather so-so material he
was offered, too. For instance, no, we didn't need a sequel to the fun ledge
jumper sketch from earlier in the season, but having Koch be the person trying
to talk Eddie down by showing all of the best parts of his city—only for each
and every one to backfire and create a regrettable body count—is as good of a
way to spice up the game as you could muster. ("How am I doin'?" "I'm about to
jump off this ledge, you're gonna ask me how you doin'?") He's similarly
entertaining in his other big role, letting Joe smear some viscous, goopy
"hair growth serum" all over his bald head and quick-changing into a Don King
wig.
</p>
<p>
Elsewhere, the episode delivers a mix of its staples, some reliable and
some... less so. Mister Robinson is back for the first time since the second
episode of the season, very much offering the same stuff as always, but at
least it always works to some extent. It's sad that we've pushed past the
point of being able to find fun new twists and reinventions within the conceit
in favor of autopiloted rewrites, but Eddie is charming as always—the "WHO IS
IT?!" will never not work. Unfortunately, Eddie is able to do less to salvage
the Late Night with David Letterman reprisal, a series of sketches that I
really... don't fully get? Maybe part of that is because Gumby is a character
who has seldom been as funny as I feel like he should be, and his material
here, showing some overdubbed "blooper" clips from his classic cartoon series,
is bizarrely dire. These sketches also try to play mean and dirty with
Letterman, but the audience is always too reluctant to respond with much
enthusiasm, and the resulting attempts at character assassination just feel
out-of-touch on SNL's part. Fortunately, said audience wakes up for the latest
Whiners sketch, though it's somehow even worse than they usually are with the
inclusion of some hacky-ass yellowface routines from Tim, Brad, and Gary.
Comedy is pain...
</p>
<p>
There's not a ton of really original sketch material this episode, with the
sole non-recurring sketch being probably the best of the night, casting Tim as
an exhibitionist who goes around posing as a male stripper to enliven chaste
women's clubs. It's not amazing by any means, but (almost) any chance to watch
Tim just go off is worth it. (Robin also has wonderful delivery of her line,
"Very well, young man, take your clothes off.") In the end, though, this was
an episode that offered disappointingly few surprises while serving as a
reminder that while Season 8 has successfully cut out all of the
interminability of the season before it, it's also lost the creative edge.
Hopefully the next two seasons will be able to find a happy medium.
<i>(Penned 5/02/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">Cumulative Season Rankings:</b>
</p>
<p>
<b>1.</b> Joan Rivers / Musical Youth (A)<br /><b>2.</b> Sid Caesar
/ Joe Cocker & Jennifer Warnes (B+)<br /><b>3.</b> Howard Hesseman /
Men At Work (B+)<br /><b>4.</b> Stevie Wonder (B+)<br /><b>5.</b> Eddie Murphy / Lionel Ritchie (B+)<br /><b>6.</b> The Smothers
Brothers / Laura Branigan (B+)<br /><b>7.</b> Louis Gossett Jr. / George
Thorogood & The Destroyers (B)<br /><b>8.</b> Bruce Dern / Leon
Redbone (B)<br /><b>9.</b> Chevy Chase / Queen (B)<br /><b>10.</b> Drew Barrymore / Squeeze (B)<br /><b>11.</b> Howard Hesseman / Tom
Petty & The Heartbreakers (B)<br /><b>12.</b> Lily Tomlin / Purvis
Hawkins (B)<br /><b>13.</b> Robert Guillaume / Duran Duran (B-)<br /><b>14.</b> Susan Saint James / Michael McDonald (B-)<br /><b>15.</b> Mayor Ed
Koch / Kevin Rowland & Dexys Midnight Runners (B-)<br /><b>16.</b> Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas / The Bus Boys (B-)<br /><b>17.</b> Michael Keaton / The New Joe Jackson Band (C+)<br /><b>18.</b> Ron
Howard / The Clash (C+)<br /><b>19.</b> Robert Blake / Kenny Loggins
(C)<br /><b>20.</b> Beau and Jeff Bridges / Randy Newman (C-)
</p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE SKETCHES:<br /></b><b>10.</b> "Snookie" (S8E05 / Michael
Keaton)<br /><b>9.</b> "Merry Christmas, Dammit!" (S8E09 / Eddie
Murphy)<br /><b>8.</b> "Old Age Home" (S8E17 / Joan Rivers)<br /><b>7.</b> "Buckwheat Buys the Farm" (S8E15 / Bruce Dern)<br /><b>6.</b> "Naked Wake" (S8E04 / Howard Hesseman #1)<br /><b>5.</b> "Joan vs.
Joan" (S8E17 / Joan Rivers)<br /><b>4.</b> "Hotel" (S8E12 / Sid
Caesar)<br /><b>3.</b> "Club Dolittle" (S8E17 / Joan Rivers)<br /><b>2.</b> "Video Victims" (S8E01 / Chevy Chase)<br /><b>1.</b> "Buckwheat
Dead" (S8E16 / Robert Guillaume)
</p>
<p>
<b>Other great sketches: </b>"Mister Robinson's Neighborhood" and "Mr. and
Mrs. T's Bloody Mary Mix" (S8E02 / Louis Gossett, Jr.); "Tyrone Goes Reggae"
(S8E06 / Robert Blake); "Ledge," "TV Family," and "Pudge and Solomon" (S8E08 /
Smothers Brothers); "Ballet for the Blind" (S8E09 / Eddie Murphy); "Funeral in
a Cab" (S8E12 / Sid Caesar) and "Crime and Self-Punishment" (S8E12 / Sid
Caesar); "Texxon" (S8E14 / Beau and Jeff Bridges); "Backstage Cold Open"
(S8E15 / Bruce Dern); "Magic Fish" (S8E18 / Susan Saint James); "Kannon AE-1"
(S8E19 / Stevie Wonder)
</p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE MUSICAL PERFORMANCES:<br />8.</b> Queen (S8E01 / Chevy
Chase)<br /><b>7.</b> Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers (S8E13 / Howard
Hesseman #2)<br /><b>6.</b> Lionel Ritchie (S8E09 / Eddie Murphy)<br /><b>5.</b> Kenny Loggins (S8E06 / Robert Blake)<br /><b>4.</b> Kevin Rowland
and Dexys Midnight Runners (S8E20 / Mayor Ed Koch)<b><br />3.</b> The New
Joe Jackson Band (S8E05 / Michael Keaton)<br /><b>2.</b> Squeeze (S8E07 /
Drew Barrymore)<br /><b>1.</b> Stevie Wonder (S8E19 / Stevie Wonder)
</p>
<p>
<b>WEEKEND UPDATE:</b> Brad Hall mercifully takes over Update from Brian
Doyle-Murray, once again imbuing the segment with some necessary energy, but
it remains the dead anchoring point of every episode where my greatest hope is
that it'll be mercifully short. I feel bad for Brad; it's clear, at the start
of the season, that he's going for a more distinct, satirically-charged
persona as an anchorperson, but that side of things went away quick,
inevitably a result of network interference that guided him back to the sort
of sluggish picture jokes that this era of the show is, for some reason, very
obsessed with. His greatest pro is that he can <i>sometimes</i> offer delight
simply indebted to his boyish (if fallible) energy, and he gives a rough joke
a fighting chance of registering compared to Brian's endless, soul-sucking
drones.
</p>
<p>
The saving grace of these Updates (or Saturday Night Newses, if we
<i>really</i> wanna call them that) remain the correspondents, which remain a
vast improvement over those of the original era. There's still a general lack
of variety, but at least these bits continue to work to decent effect and
highlight cast members who I legitimately enjoy. Tim is always reliable to be
trotted out as whatever character, even if this season incorporates his
awkward brownface routine as Havnagootiim Vishnuuerheer into the
rotation; likewise, Mary's frequent appearances as herself "spittin' mad" can
become a bit white noise-y but at least give her the room to further endear
herself with the audience in a way that last season didn't. Julia rounds
things out as an occasional presence at the desk, though her bits are merely
okay, mostly interesting just to see the future star in the early stages of
her comic persona.
</p>
<p>
I assume that next season, SNN will remain more of the same, which... is just
something to be reconciled with. We'll see. As it stands, we're at least
taking steps in the right direction.
</p>
<p><b>SEASON GRADE AVERAGE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">Follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>!</i>
</p>
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</div>
<p style="text-align: center;"><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;"><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 1</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 2</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-reviewed-and-ranked.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 3</a><br style="font-style: normal;" /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/09/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 4</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/12/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 5</a></span><br style="font-style: normal;" /><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 6</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/03/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 7</a> | <b>Season 8</b><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 9</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 10</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 11</a><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 12</a></span></i></p>Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-88182635591515594852022-03-05T12:48:00.008-06:002023-10-15T01:05:27.105-05:00Saturday Night Live, Ranked and Reviewed: Season 7<p></p>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"> "Oh, you girls have let yourselves go!"</span></i></b></span>
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<p>And so, following the tumultuous and critically-maligned Season 6, we enter the Ebersol era! It's a period that I've been looking forward to quite a bit, considering how hyped up it's been by a lot of other SNL diehards, and the fact that a so much of it seems to have been erased from the show's sense of lore makes it all the more intriguing. We've also got a promising new class of cast members, some of whom we met on the last episode of last season: Robin Duke, Tim Kazurinsky, Tony Rosato are joined by Second City alum Mary Gross and musical theater performer Christine Ebersole, while (relative) veterans Eddie Murphy and Joe Piscopo helm the pack. Will they be able to bring credibility and life back to the ailing sketch program? I guess I'll have to find out for myself!</p><p>For my reviews of the previous season, Season 6, <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">CLICK HERE</a>! Now, without further ado: Season 7!</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/03/81: (no host) / Rod Stewart (S7 E01)</b></p>
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<p>
Right out the gate, Season 7 has won me over. After a quick, nasty little jab
at NBC, we launch straight into a new opening montage, the likes of which
we've never seen on SNL before. Instead of the cheery, colorful depictions of
New York nightlife, we're greeted with seedy, black-and-white images showing
the perils of the urban jungle, with barking dogs and brandished knives—"the
most dangerous city in America," booms Mel Brandt, the season's new announcer.
It's like a shock to the system, fueled in no small part by the return of
everyone's favorite, least-favorite misanthrope, Michael O'Donoghue. While
we'll be seeing more of his dark influence as the season rolls along (well, up
until he departs at the halfway point), it's a bold foray into this new era,
one with the wily charms of Season 6 but a newfound assuredness. SNL, once
again, has an identity.
</p>
<div>
Similarly, we open the season with a bombastic reminder that Eddie is now the
show's chosen star, replacing the usual monologue slot with "The Little
Richard Simmons Show." It's a phenomenal way to kick off the show: get Eddie
out there to breathe some life into the potentially-tentative audience. And he
does, in a way that only <i>he</i> could—as a Richard Simmons/Little Richard
hybrid who forces everyone out of their seat and into a workout routine while
blasting through some modified rock-and-roll classics. A sketch slightly later
in the night further cements Eddie's status: the legendary "Prose and Cons"
sketch, a sharp mockumentary about the literary potential of inmates serving
life sentences, concludes with his legendary "Cill My Landlord" poem. The
audience is eating of the palm of Eddie's hand so much that you can barely
make out his final word over the cheers and applause: "Death."
</div>
<p>
Joe is similarly severed from the pack for the most part, but the rest of the
episode examines this new cast as a monolith, and despite the ultimately slim
amount of material they get to perform, they make a strong case for their
longevity. The night's centerpiece is a sprawling, two-parter Marilyn Suzanne
Miller piece, and one of her best, casting Robin Duke as a woman struggling to
dispel her clueless but blithely-committed one-night stand, Tim Kazurinsky.
There's something to be said about these two: Robin is given a particularly
difficult, dramatic role, especially once she hears the news that her father
has died, while Tim is tasked with making an incredibly annoying character
both watchable and hilarious. Both succeed and play off of each other
perfectly, and they immediately establish themselves as some of this season's
brightest new commodities. ("An old flame?" he asks Robin, after her
incredibly distressing phone call... so many fantastic bits of dialogue here!)
The rest of the cast gets a bit less to do, though they round out the second
part with some fun character work; Tony Rosato in particular kills it as an
uncle who wants to steal the shoes off of her dead dad's feet.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the night moves along pretty briskly, and nothing quite bottoms
out. "The Clams" is the biggest blast of Mr. Mike this episode has to offer, a
fine piece of character assassination on Brian De Palma; the nuns sketch
between Mary and Robin, while deeply-incongruous, largely gets over on their
rapport and some fun turns. Things become more confused in the last 20 minutes
where the only cast member to pop up is Christine Ebersole, doing a
non-comedic plea for home movies; the rest of that time is ceded by the second
Rod Stewart performance (yawn?) and a bunch of guest spots. The Andy Warhol
and Yoko Ono videos threaten to drain the spirit out of the building, though
they're fascinating relics of their time. Andy Warhol is disconcerting and
weird while discussing how he thinks the show is terrible, and Yoko debuts a
music video honoring her late husband—artsy, and sometimes affecting
weirdness, but an ultimate reminder of SNL's counterculture status. The best
of this strange mish-mash is guest juggler Michael Davis, though, and he might
just be my favorite part of the entire night. The deadpan remarks littering
his act killed me, and his ability to create tension before effortless
juggling three scary, sharp things turns something as dorky as juggling into a
display of nonchalant badassery.
</p>
<p>
Put all of that together and you have a bit of a rollercoaster, but one that
manages to hit so many of the right spots. It's satisfying to feel like SNL is
teeming with life again, both in the cast and the audience, and I greatly look
forward to all the craziness that Season 7 has in store!
<i>(Penned 1/19/22)</i>
</p>
<div><b>GRADE: A.</b></div>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/10/81: Susan Saint James / The Kinks (S7 E02)</b>
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<p>
With this second episode, I think I'm starting to get a better grasp on the
distinct challenges, but also delights, of this season. If the premiere was
deliberately a full-cylindered affront, the Susan Saint James episode feels
more like the establishment of a prototype: here's how we weave our host in,
how we utilize our cast, and how we structure our shows. The result is a mixed
effort where the good and the bad threaten to neutralize each other, but at
the end of the day, we have a model to work with. Later episodes will be both
better and worse, but it's not a bad effort.
</p>
<p>
If anything, it's an effort that, in true Ebersol fashion from what I've
heard, is greatly front-loaded with delights, even if what goes up must
eventually come down. On the plus side, we get one of Eddie's most memorable
pieces, the debut of his Buckwheat impression in "Buh-Weet Sings," hocking a
record of his bowdlerized song interpretations. It's a stupidly thin bit, but
every single thing works in its favor, and all Eddie really has to do to sell
the bit is grin at the camera. We also get the first sketch to really be
imbued with Mr. Mike's fingerprints, "Bizarro World," where O'Donoghue's
floating head details an alternate reality where everything is the direct
opposite. Its unnerving energy keeps things intriguing (everyone has strange
face-masks and pitch-shifted voices), but it goes for a nice sucker
punch when it reveals itself to be a long walk <i>just</i> to snicker at the
concept of a president who, despite being the theoretical opposite of Reagan,
is just as incompetent.
</p>
<p>
Additionally, there's a handful of fun, more character-driven pieces to help
ground the night, and I'm finding that's where this season is shining. Perhaps
my favorite sketch of the night, from a writing standpoint, was the piece
shared between Tim and Mary, casting them as erudite former lovers whose
encounter hits a snag when Mary meets his brash, skanky fiancée (played
impeccably, to my shock, by Robin). It's a simple piece, but one that makes
perfect use out of Tim's nerdiness and Mary's ability to pack her meek
demeanor with delightful bite. ("She can take me places I've never been
before!" "Yeah, well I hope they have penicillin there...") The later sketch
shared between Tony and Susan Saint James is a bit lesser, but still solid;
it's the best showcase Susan gets all night, and a sweet piece overall buoyed
by their chemistry.
</p>
<p>
Unfortunately, the running order of the show hurts things quite a bit for me,
even when I can look at how many great pieces came out of it. The hard-hitters
line the front, while the back-half feels like a mild dead zone that can't
maintain a sense of energy. Our new Weekend Update variant, SNL Newsbreak, is
tragically no better than Update has ever been, and despite having better
performers in Mary and Brian-Doyle Murray, the lethargic joke-writing drains
the energy right out of the studio... and that has a near-detrimental effect
on Christine Ebersole's wonderful "Single Women" musical number which follows
right after. I almost feel bad; a serious, poignant musical number is not the
sort of thing that you want when you're just desperate for a laugh, and that
made it an uphill battle for me, but it's ultimately worth it and a wonderful
showcase of her abilities. The rest of the material is less defensible; the
sketches are thinner (even if "Cheap Laffs" is winklingly so), and the two
short films—a long, rambling Warhol piece and a maudlin, jokeless dirge about
Anwar Sadat's recent assassination to end the night—only serve to fuel the
spiral.
</p>
<p>
It's unfortunate that the Susan Saint James episode becomes more of a
challenge as it dies down, but hey, we'll always have that first half. If
nothing else, I can say that the positive developments continue to fuel the
Ebersol era's redemption arc in pretty gratifying ways, and I look forward to
seeing what things will look like at their fullest potential.
<i>(Penned 1/20/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
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<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/17/81: George Kennedy / Miles Davis (S7 E03)</b>
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<p>
Sometimes, it can be difficult for me to know what to give an SNL episode
credit for. The George Kennedy episode is nothing if not serviceable, with a
keyed-in host and a broad selection of ideas at its disposal, and I can see
how it would cohere for others... but it doesn't fully cohere for me. I think
a lot of that rests in the fact that, aside from a few easy winners, this is
an episode that relies on your appreciation of the performances to triumph the
ideas, which risk being unable to escape the timely vacuum of their creation,
though perhaps that's just my young age showing—<i>La Cage Aux Folles</i> and the status of Marilyn Monroe in the 1980s both leave me mostly
empty-handed despite the magnetism they try to offer.
</p>
<p>
That makes this episode very difficult for me to talk about overall, though I
can at least highlight the pieces that landed for me. Unsurprisingly, Season 7
is quick to capitalize on the success of one of last season's few stand-out
pieces, "Mister Robinson's Neighborhood," by making it recurring, and
fortunately, it's the sort of piece that works within that format. They can be
samey at a certain point, and this one doesn't have as much snap or innovation
as the original (the puppet show feels a bit halting), but it's always a
welcome sight—few things are better for a good laugh than Eddie breaking his
genial demeanor and yelling a harsh, intimidating "WHO IS IT?!" through the
door. He similarly smashes his way through the debut of Velvet Jones, even if
this is one of the most basic characters in his oeuvre; still, getting Eddie to
talk stilted about the joys of being a ho is a simple pleasure.
</p>
<p>
On the idea front, things are a bit up and down. "Spray-On Laetril" is the
latest deeply dark idea from Mr. Mike, featuring cheerily-delivered lines like
"I smoke about six packs a day, and frankly, my lungs look like moldy
spinach!", and it works all the better for it. The fact that it's short and
succinct, too, puts it above quite a few other unfortunate pieces
tonight—"Jake the Hired Hand" feels like an improvisational exercise put to
paper with too many ideas, while the short film of a dog licking its lips for
almost two minutes feels like even more of an endurance test. Perhaps the
greatest misfortune for me, though, is that the sluggish pacing of the
back-half marred the Marilyn Suzanne Miller piece that rounds the night off;
it's the most thoughtful sketch by a long shot, with great performances from
both George Kennedy and Christine as a janitor and secretary discussing their
views on life, but it's too difficult for me to be sold on such a long,
deliberately meandering and non-comedic piece in a night where I was
burned-out on the listlessness.
</p>
<p>
The episode, in the end, felt best summarized by Miles Davis' performance.
Just as the jazz legend wandered in circles as the cameras struggled to get a
shot of anything besides his back, I was left trying to observe a night that,
despite my best efforts, I just couldn't get a focus on.
<i>(Penned 1/21/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">10/31/81: Donald Pleasance / Fear (S7 E04)</b>
</p>
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<p>
It's a bit sad to think about what a Michael O'Donoghue-helmed Halloween
episode would look like, if it were allowed to exist in full force. In an
alternate universe, this would be his magnum opus, a garishly grim display of
his most twisted ideas: the Reagans cannibalizing Jane Fonda,
<a href="https://twitter.com/DennisThePerrin/status/1454836173826924544">a man siphoning blood from a hooker</a>, and "The Good Excuse," wherein a Nazi whispers the justification for the
Third Reich to his captors... and is let go, scot-free. Alas, these visions of dark grandeur simply weren't meant to be, leaving the episode to scramble and fill its runtime with some hastily-assembled filler bits and a strange cameo from the returning John Belushi, verblessly stepping out of a bathroom stall and looking around for ten seconds.</p>
<p>
With that being said, it's remarkable that even a watered-down Mr. Mike
episode is impressively, memorably dark, and undoubtedly the most SNL has ever
committed to Halloween. It's the sort of episode that starts with the sight of
Tim Kazurinsky hacking away at his own leg as blood spurts out and ends with a
knife through Tony Rosato's head. Sometimes the material is explicitly silly,
such as Eddie and Joe being cast as the two torturous, dueling halves of Jerry
Lewis, and other times it's more directly perverse, as in Christine Ebersole's
delightful country ditty about killing her husband, sponging up the blood
dripping from his corpse while woefully singing: "I'm so miserable without
him, it's like having him around."
</p>
<p>
I feel like this episode is also the most that the variety show aspect of
Season 7 has really worked. It's something I've struggled with across the past
few episodes; while I get the point of procuring such varied content,
sometimes plainly comedic and other times dramatic, I have a particularly hard
time getting into the rhythm with that kind of variance and knowing what sort
of expectations I should bear from segment to segment. Perhaps it's the fact
that this episode has such a unifying goal that, even with the scope of its
material, it feels truly equal to the sum of its parts. Beyond the live
sketches, there are also two delightfully macabre pretapes—one, an exercise in
gory pumpkin seppuku, the other an ad for a glue trap tunnel that ensnares
joggers as they fight for their lives in the sticky ooze—and even guest
performer Michael Davis is able to tap into the spirit of things with a
particularly fun appearance playing with razorblade-laced apples.
</p>
<p>
In a way, I feel like that sense of a shared goal also enabled one of the most
daring pieces to land for me, "The Vic Salukin Show," casting Tony Rosato as
the impatient host of a call-in radio show daring anonymous callers to scare
him. What starts as an exercise in shitting on bad prank attempts morphs into
legitimately disturbing territory: as the camera zooms in on the phone, Donald
Pleasance coos voyeuristically on the other end of the line about the intimate
details of Vic's family and home life before threatening to drive a meat
cleaver into his brain and split his skull. After a moment of silence, Donald
laughs to himself—he got one over his old pal Vic!—but as the camera pans out,
we get the disturbing visual of Vic's dead, cleavered body all the same. It's
the closest that the episode is able to coalesce with O'Donoghue's original
vision of the episode, and it's all the more admirable for it.
</p>
<p>
What this episode will forever be most remembered for, though, is its musical
guest, the punk rock band Fear, terrorizing the SNL studio with a mosh pit
that gets so feisty that Dick Ebersol ordered that they cut the video feed
prematurely. Fear is Fear, for better or worse, but you gotta love the sense
of literal danger they bring to the show (those poor audience members sitting
inches from the moshers), a reminder of the fact that
<i>Saturday Night Live</i> is, and will forever be, a live program where
anything could go wrong. Because of them, the episode was never rerun on NBC,
both a shame and a bit of history that just serves to make this one feel all
the more interesting. Seek this one out, if you dare. <i>(Penned 1/21/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/07/81: Lauren Hutton / Rick James (S7 E05)</b>
</p>
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<p>
I feel like there's some recalibration I have to do in terms of how I watch
SNL. As I was working through Season 6, I found that it was a lot easier to
consider every episode individually; they all had their own vibes and
headspaces, different strengths and weaknesses, even if that ultimately tended
to amount to a lesser SNL episode. Now that Ebersol is eyeing for more
stability within the show, though, it feels increasingly hard to write about
every episode on a case-by-case basis. It also doesn't help a ton that the
hosts this season haven't been especially prominent, which can make things
feel interchangeable; rather than just being about how the host affects the
flow of the show, it's about how they fold into the direction that the show
has decided to take on a given week. I don't blame them a ton, though,
considering that a lot of the choices this season feel rather uninspiring. Case
in point: Lauren Hutton.
</p>
<p>
To her credit, though, I feel like she actually leaves a surprisingly decent impact. It's always a crap-shoot when SNL brings on a female host seemingly just to make
points of how hot they are—a lineage extending from Raquel Welch in its very
first season to as recently as Jennifer Lopez in Season 45—but there's a sense
that the show is more willing to actually involve Lauren and allow her to use
her voice throughout the process rather than simply objectify her. It's true
that her being a model is never lost in the writing, but it feels like she
gets opportunities to flaunt that and be in on the joke rather than be leered
at. She channels her sultriness into two pretty funny little fake
commercials—the "Whisper" ad for bubble bath fluid with the strength to clean
even the grodiest of dishes, and the latest Cheap Laffs installment about
abrasive toilet paper for manly men—and her little appearance as herself at
the end of the "Reach Out" sketch, with Mary and Christine playing ditsy and
disconnected versions of Brooke Shields and Cheryl Tiegs, scores some of the
biggest laughs as she rails against the reductive stereotypes that the sketch
enforces.
</p>
<p>
That sketch is one of the night's high points, even if it's an exercise in
pretty nasty character assassination; it's just funny to have Cheryl Tiegs
respond to an audience member talking about having to work at a sweatshop with
machinery that killed her co-workers with a simple, vapid "I know how you
feel." There's a similar and more successful dirtiness in the inaugural "Hail
to the Chief" sketch, which is most certainly the most damning anti-Reagan
material SNL has pulled off yet. The first-person perspective offers an
incredibly unique feel to the piece, and the characterization of Reagan as a
guileless yes man who thinks that his presidency is another acting role is
superb. ("I think my character is getting awfully sympathetic... why would the
president try to take money away from young people and poor people and kids?"
he asks Ed Meese, played to perfection by Tony Rosato.)
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode is the usual Season 7 mishmash, but it feels pretty
palatable throughout and never runs out of moments of intrigue. Eddie gets to
redo his signature Bill Cosby impression to greater effect than his debut, Tom
Schiller debuts his latest film about a struggling French artist who screams
unintelligibly at abandoned cathedrals, and special guest William Burroughs
reads some clever excerpts from his latest book. (It's a bit surprising, and
ultimately very nice, to hear his material so warmly received by the audience.)
Throw in some badass, cocaine-fueled Rick James performances and you've got an
episode that works as well as you could hope. <i>(Penned 2/20/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/14/81: Bernadette Peters / The Go-Gos, Billy Joel (S7 E06)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It's been interesting to monitor Michael O'Donoghue's influence over SNL's
writing across the season. I was under the impression that the show would have
a truly nasty edge to it, that he would drive SNL towards the path of
nihilism; I believe it's been described as akin to a "viking funeral," an
understanding that the glory days are dead and gone. But to be honest, aside
from some very obvious instances of his voice splattered about ("The Clams,"
"Bizarro World," "Spray-On Laetril"), I've found Season 7 to be fairly mellow,
daring in a way that feels less cynical than eager for reinvention. The
closest O'Donoghue ever got to sculpting an episode in his likeness was the kneecapped Donald Pleasance episode... until now.
</p>
<p>
This Bernadette Peters episode is, quite flagrantly, the closest SNL has
gotten to his vision of the show yet. If there's a single word I could use to
describe the episode: <i>depraved</i>. While Pleasance may have a greater
notoriety for being dark, it's a distinct sort of "Halloween scary," more
morbid and grotesque than anything else. The Peters episode feels like a
celebration of moral decay, a deliberate subversion on the hokey concept of a
variety show that aims to denigrate at every possible step.
</p>
<p>
Take the wonderful "Hidden Photo" sketch, for instance, imagining a
<i>Candid Camera</i>-esque program centered upon torturing those who happen to
get ensnared in their pranks. It's an exercise in gleeful cruelty as Piscopo
tricks diner patrons into putting scalding hot forks in their mouths ("She's
expecting a bite of cool, creamy cheesecake. What she's gonna get is a
mouthful of seared flesh!") and tells young children that their parents are
sending them to an orphanage ("Give me the crown. I'm giving it to another
little girl whose parents love her and wanna keep her!"). It's less an
indictment on the show that they're riffing on and more an excuse to be
beautifully, apathetically heinous. Elsewhere, we get lighter bits that are no
less subversive: the next installment of "I Married A Monkey" is even better
than the first (Tim's ad-libbing is put to great use with the two chimps, one
of whom sprints around the set doing flips on the bed and knocking things off
the wall), and another sketch derails into some pretty gutsy innuendo when the
stage lights go out, attracting the ire of the NBC censor.
</p>
<p>
Bernadette Peters is sadly stuck along the sidelines for most of the episode,
though all of her contributions are splendid. She's a perfect fit for the
show, radiating sultry charm and perpetual gameness, and it's most brilliantly
demonstrated in her Marilyn Suzanne-Miller-penned musical sketch, "Making Love
Alone." It feels astonishingly risqué, even empowering; it's always exciting
to see comedy with such a feminist slant in these early years of SNL, and
Bernadette's commitment to the song as she details the wonders of masturbation
feels less like a shot at the cheap seats than a declaration of her sexuality.
(Of course, if you'd rather have the former, she also does a number as Betty
Boop about venereal diseases at the top of the show... it's all about
options.) Although a more difficult piece overall, I also appreciated what the
"42nd Street" sketch was going for, juxtaposing Bernadette's young, naive
starlet from a bygone era with the grimy underground of '80s New York. It's a
good ensemble piece that thrives on the specificity of everyone's
performances, and that also means it's an excellent demonstration of the
strength of this whole cast. (There's also Brian Doyle-Murray in drag, which
you just gotta see.)
</p>
<p>
Even if this episode isn't always agreeable, it's an episode that feels like a
feat with its mere existence. I mean, this is the episode with goddamn "Nick
the Knock" in it, a piece where, after Mary's fairy character recites
some florid prose, Piscopo eats her spine as green blood spews all over his
face. It doesn't just defy explanation; it's a fucking nightmare, and one that
will <i>never</i> leave you. I cannot, in good conscience, have anything but
sincere respect for SNL being this provocative, and even if this episode isn't
to your taste, there's no denying that it triumphantly fulfills its vision.
Personally, I'm happy that it does. <i>(Penned 1/26/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/05/81: Tim Curry / Meat Loaf (S7 E07)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Sometimes an episode just doesn't connect with me, even if I'd wish it did.
Such is the case for this Tim Curry hosting stint, an episode where everyone
is clearly working at their highest level but almost none of it manages to
translate over to me. Of course, SNL does not exist to cater to a single
person who was born fifteen years after the night of (hi!), and I acknowledge
that, but insofar as you, dear reader, have come over here to listen to me
rant upon my soapbox... I will make my impassioned plea of defense.
</p>
<p>
It's not that I dislike Tim Curry; even with my lack of familiarity with his
work, he came across as truly magnetic, a consummate professional and someone
who, for the first time, Season 7 actually cares to accommodate for. There's
not a moment where Curry's abilities are wasted, and that's so easy to
appreciate for once compared to the sort of decentralization I've come to
expect as of late. With that being said, while he was tasked with confidently
carrying material, it wasn't always <i>good</i>. Perhaps most exhaustingly of
all is "Mick!", a fake variety show hosted by Tim-as-Mick Jagger, sauntering
about while introducing an onslaught of random guests. The issue is that it
just doesn't work; it's reliant on very specific context and recognition
rather than standalone joke-writing (see: the random appearance of Frank
"YYYYYESSSS?" Nelson), and the fact that I was disinterested from the start
made its extensive, 13-minute runtime feel absolutely torturous.
</p>
<p>
This is also where the episode's sequencing comes into play as a massive
problem, because not only is "Mick!" the first sketch of the night, but it's
followed almost immediately after by an equally-pained, ten minute-long sketch
with even less substance. It's also not anything new; it's a follow-up to Tony
and Tim's Italian family sketch from the Season 6 premiere with an even more
extended length that they seemingly just opted not to fill. I've found Tony to
be an exceptionally underrated cast member who's come through with something
truly wonderful every week, but seeing him return to this old well of shtick
was draining. The fact that SNL then decides to follow up these padded
segments with <i>an SNL Newsbreak</i> is almost a joke in and of itself even
if, admittedly, this is probably the best Newsbreak of the season. (Mary and
Brian-Doyle spend several minutes up top criticizing their weakness as news
anchors and it's is a joyously meta acknowledgement of their mediocrity, if
not a solution.) I'll acknowledge that this was yet another episode slashed up by last-minute cuts and rewrites—the original centerpiece was O'Donoghue's doomed, 37-page "<a href="https://twitter.com/i/events/1332414737712287749">Silverman's Bunker</a>," his mythical pièce de résistance casting Fred Silverman as a Hitler-adjacent figure in the final days of his disastrous run at NBC—but just because the padding has context doesn't make it enjoyable.</p>
<p>
The remaining pieces of the night are at least short, and there's one winner
buried in there: Curry's delightfully-crude and show-stealing Zucchini song,
his best usage all night. (There's even audience interaction!) However, "Tim
and Meat's Rocky Horror Shop" feels too ramshackle and underrehearsed to
succeed as much beyond fan service, and the closing Reagan sketch is, y'know,
another of those blathering political pieces that wasn't interesting then and
certainly isn't interesting now. If you can get into most of these individual
sketches across this episode, then you'll have a great time; if you don't,
you'll just be stuck sitting through it with your eyes glazed over. It should
be easy to guess what camp I unfortunately found myself in.
<i>(Penned 1/27/22)</i></p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/12/81: Bill Murray / The Spinners (S7 E08)</b>
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
<p></p>
<p>
Michael O'Donoghue's final episode as a head writer before he was fired by
Dick Ebersol is appropriately dreary, if notably in ways that even O'Donoghue
couldn't have manufactured. An NBC breaking news bulletin interrupts the last
thirty minutes of the show with a startling new development: Russia has
invaded Poland, and martial law has been declared. It's the death of foreign
democracy in the middle of a Christmas episode, and the fact that it's
followed immediately by a sketch where Bill announces that World War III is
right around the corner is even more startling—you can hear the lump in his
throat. After braving a few more sketches and some Christmas acapella, the
goodnights conclude with Bill informing the audience of the news ("It's no
joke, Jim. It's real sad.") as many of the cast members behind him openly
weep. And yes, fortunately, World War III never happened, but it's no less
terrifying to see the fear on everybody's faces; it feels like an episode on
the verge of an alternate, dystopian timeline. If nothing else, it's a
reminder that the universe has always been scary, and it always will be. To
me, it's one of the most haunting moments of live television I've ever seen.
</p>
<p>
It also makes all of the darkness of this episode feel that much more
disconcerting. The post-monologue sketch is about Libyan terrorists attempting
to plant a bomb in the White House, followed by a sketch in which Tom Snyder
has become so demented and detached from reality that he enacts his
cancelled <i>Tomorrow</i> show upon random people who walk into his
hotel bedroom. We also get O'Donoghue's swan song, "At Home with the Psychos,"
casting Bill as the incestuous patriarch of a family with a skinhead wife,
blind ballerina daughter, and dynamite-wrapped son. It's less funny than a
nightmare enacted on-stage, which for O'Donoghue is probably the perfect
middle finger to end things on. Even without the breaking news, this is an
episode that just isn't in the holiday spirit (musical guests
notwithstanding); the news merely serves to take the somber vibes and make
them even more depressing.
</p>
<p>
So what's good here? Well, I'd say the only really successful piece was the scathing musical number berating Reagan's trickle down economics, with
Joe and Christine cheerfully singing to Honker about how it's better for their
money to reach him through their splurging than giving him any. Elsewhere, we
get some return appearances from both Father Guido Sarducci and Michael Davis,
which are easy to appreciate even if neither delivers their best work... and
that's sort of it. Bill Murray deserves better than this, even if some of
those bad vibes were far out of his control. There's just nothing quite like a
Christmas episode of SNL leaving you with more existential dread than
laughter. <i>(Penned 1/28/22)</i>
</p>
<p>
<b>GRADE: C+.</b>
</p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/23/82: Robert Conrad / The Allman Brothers Band (S7 E09)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
The Robert Conrad episode finds SNL in a bit of an awkward spot. After the
preceding month's Christmas episode, Dick Ebersol decided he'd had it with
Michael O'Donoghue (for reasons which I don't think require great explanation)
and removed him from the show. To a lot of fans of these years, this is the
point where Season 7 starts to decline, no doubt because of how meticulously
O'Donoghue maintained the show's identity, and it's perhaps a good explanation
for the weakness of this episode... though to be honest, it doesn't yet feel
like the ghost of Mr. Mike has left the building. With that being said,
it's also <i>far</i> from a force of good.
</p>
<p>
That's because, for all of the material in this episode that I legitimately
got some enjoyment out of, it's marred by particularly poor taste. Pieces like
the clunky Roosevelt sketch which paints Tim's FDR as a sly conman parallel to
Nixon, or the Elizabeth Taylor dunk-fest, feel far too nasty and exploitative
for their own good, especially since it's the only joke that either piece has.
(That's also not even mentioning that the former includes the first instance
of yellowface from Eddie, which is <i>very</i> unwelcome.) Elsewhere, we get
another "A Few Minutes with Andy Rooney" segment that feels like an excuse to
get uncensored breasts on live television—a similar trick to one O'Donoghue
pulls in his <i>Mondo Video</i>—and worst of all, "Babies in Make-up," a
pretape dressing babies up in lingerie and S&M gear, feels legitimately
pedophilic. (I'm sure even mentioning that has put me on a fucking
list.)
</p>
<p>
So yeah, we have all of that shit that has to be weighed against the rest of
the episode, which is unfortunate considering I don't think a lot of it was
all that bad. Perhaps the most fun part of this episode is how heavy it goes
on Velvet Jones, sticking him into different contexts (first as the defendant
in a court trial, later as the operator of an 1800's brothel in the "Wild Wild
Wild West" sketch) before appearing in a silly meta bit where he declares,
alongside Joe's Jersey Guy (!!), that he is formally retiring out of
overexposure. I also honestly didn't hate that aforementioned "Wild Wild Wild
West" sketch despite its intense runtime; it's far from a slick scene but
there's enough weird character beats that I can appreciate, and which keeps it
moving along compared to some of the other sketches this season of a similar
length. With that being said, the best piece of the night was also the most
unexpected: Christine Ebersole gets a great showcase, pretending to be her
sister as she gives a deeply awkward performance of a Liza Minelli song
("Without her, I would be no one."). By the time she gets to shrill
viola-playing, it borders on anti-comedy.
</p>
<p>
The over/under on this episode is very difficult for me to assess, but
ultimately, the shitty material feels too detrimental and leaves little room
for my opinion of it to grow. Here's hoping that the good of this episode can
guide Season 7 to a better place, and that the bad can rot in obscurity.
<i>(Penned 1/28/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/30/82: John Madden / Jennifer Holliday (S7 E10)</b>
</p>
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<p>
In light of John Madden's recent passing, I was very interested in seeing his
episode. There's always something I enjoy about unconventional hosts in
general, something the Ebersol years seems highly adept at, though bringing
Madden on-board does actually make some sense: he's an energetic, charismatic
guy who thrives on live television. It's a shame, then, that his episode ends
up being similar to how this season goes, with Madden only trotted out in
small doses and rarely having a chance to really interact with the cast.
</p>
<p>
Perhaps the excellent cold open set up some expectations that the night wasn't
intent to sustain, but hey, it's a great cold open, with Madden doing
post-game interviews in the defeated Bengals' locker room; for as little as I
know about football, it's an exercise in delightfully perverse darkness that
finds the players denouncing their religion, being assassinated for claiming
it was rigged by the mafia, and hanging themselves. (Tim walks on as the coach
of the Bengals, asks who the player is who's hung himself, and emphatically
shouts "GOOD!" when Madden tells him who it is.) Outside of that, though,
Madden merely pops up in a handful of solo pieces that are slight but cute
("Poetry Corner," or a pretape about the journey to SNL), and makes a one-line
appearance in the "Betty Beer" fake ad calling Christine a bitch. If it's any
indication from the hilarious story he tells about a football player WHAP-ing
a $50 bill into a bathroom toilet, he deserved far more of a shot.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the night is a series of ups and downs that mostly equates to what
I'd expect from any episode. A handful of pieces exist to vex me for trying to
watch forty year-old SNL (the Johnny Carson and Lou Grant bits); we also get
another overlong sketch, as every Season 7 episode is privy to have, in the
form of the mafia names piece, though there's at least a slight bit more fun
to be had here than usual. The "Uncle Tom Show" sketch fares a bit better,
anchored reliably by Joe's Tom Snyder impression with solid assists from
Tony's bitter Captain Kangaroo and Eddie's infallible Buckwheat. The night
ends rather perfectly, though, with the debut of Pudge and Solomon, two
characters I've been looking forward to seeing for quite a while. It's a
fantastic display of Eddie and Joe's chemistry and their ability to deeply
inhibit characters, two old men bantering by the piano at a bar. A great
slice-of-life sketch mines humor from truth, and watching the two of them
exchange jokes and barbs is truly infectious—something that makes the
melancholy turn the sketch takes at the end all the more impactful.
</p>
<p>
One final note: this episode also features some amazing performances from
Jennifer Holliday, singing her heart out like it's the last night of her life
with some spellbinding songs from her Broadway musical, <i>Dreamgirls</i>. I
very rarely count musical performances towards an episode's overall quality,
but goddamn, I don't wanna imagine this episode without her.
<i>(Penned 2/252/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/06/82: James Coburn / Lindsay Buckingham (S7 E11)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It's strangely refreshing to reach a Season 7 episode that, even if
not particularly close to approaching greatness, is incredibly consistent.
I've come to understand each episode this season as a complicated amalgamation
of ups and downs which are ultimately put at odds with each other in the hopes
that the good material is able to carry things. Unfortunately, that also means
that even when an episode has some stellar pieces, the sluggish portions make
it feel impossible to really celebrate. That's where I can appreciate an
episode like Coburn's, which feels like the sort of middle-ground outing
that I'd like to hope this era will eventually be able to more regularly offer.
</p>
<p>
In a lot of ways, it reminded me of Jill Clayburgh's amicable episode from
Season 3: there's nothing too daring, and it leans heavily on surefire
recurring bits, but it works all the same whether or not there's much
innovation. At the same time, it's hard to be angry with, for instance, yet
another "Mister Robinson's Neighborhood," especially one that comes up with
some nifty formula changes. Rather than being another outing in Mister
Robinson's apartment, it's a lesson told in the form of a confrontation with
his crotchety landlord culminating in one of his pyromaniac friends setting
the building on fire. (Kudos to the intimidating, verbless extra playing his
friend who refuses to key into Robinson's childlike presentation style: "I
guess he didn't graduate, boys and girls!") The return of the first-person
Reagan sketch is also pretty enjoyable, if not quite as incisive as the first,
and it continues to be a great showcase for Tony. On the flip-side, though, "I
Married A Monkey" doesn't quite work in its third installment; these sketches
feel almost proto-Debbie Downer in the sense that their success banks on
whether or not they threaten to collapse, and while Tim gets some great
ad-libs in, there's just not enough silly antics to fulfill those
expectations.
</p>
<p>
The best sketch in this episode, though, is "Those Crazy Taboosters,"
projecting cheery sitcom energy over a family that's deeply entrenched in
incestuous relationships and other dark acts of transgression. It's no big
surprise that it was penned by Rosie Schuster, a writer from the first five
years who also co-wrote "Uncle Roy"; it balances its sense of perversion with
an impressive nimbleness that keeps it from dragging and lets every
increasingly dark reveal, delivered from the Taboosters with cheesy grins,
land wonderfully. The rest of the night, for the most part, has its laughs
even when the material isn't all the way there: Brian-Doyle Murray's ad for
Christianized pop hits is worth a good chuckle from the lazy altered lyrics,
and "Crazy Mary, Gay Jim" manages to circumvent some of the hackiness of its
premise (Mary pointing out gay-signaling mannerisms within the show's host)
through the power of Mary's superb, matter-of-fact delivery.
</p>
<p>
As a tangent, it's also worth mentioning the most confounding segment from
this episode, and one that I have a difficult time really assessing:
Christine's non-comedic song, dedicated to the other women of the cast as an
indictment of the misogynistic material that they have to put up with. It's
sincere in a way that feels disarming, and you can tell it comes
from a place of legitimate grief, but it feels icky to consider that it
made it onto the show as a mere consolation prize for those struggles, a way
for SNL as a broader institution to be cutesy and self-aware about being
caught in its own bullshit with no real intent to solve the problem. It's not
hard to see how Christine, in spite of her incredibly strong work, would
only be on the show for a season; whether she was fired or she left on her own
accord feels equally damning.
</p>
<p>
But as a whole, this is a pretty fun outing for the show. I hope future
episodes can resemble its strengths, and optimistically surpass them.
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/20/82: Bruce Dern / Luther Vandross (S7 E12)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Bruce Dern is the sort of figure that I'm always game to see hosting SNL. I
love weird, character actor sort of guys who, while not being the most
predisposed to comedy, dedicate themselves to the whims of the world of sketch
comedy and channel their intensity into the material they're provided. That's
exactly what Bruce does here, too; whether or not his material is all that
strong (and it unfortunately, generally isn't), no failures here are due to
any shortcomings on his part. Perhaps the most polite way I can ultimately
phrase my take on this episode is that it makes me look forward to the next
time he hosts in Season 8. Here, though, he's simply the best part of another
characteristically uneven show.
</p>
<p>
There's no shortage of things that are pleasant, at least, even if very little
manages to hit great territory. We get the unexpected return of "The Bizarro
World," for instance, with Bruce's disembodied narrator head replacing Michael
O'Donoghue's, and while it doesn't reach the scathing heights of the first,
it's a pretty fun bit of satire all the same. Jokes at the expense of NBC feel
rather labored coming from SNL at this point, but the formula of these
sketches is able to reinvigorate the joke while allowing it to drop some
wonderfully mean digs. ("We need show about Black people? Quick! Call Jewish
writers!") The vaudeville songwriter sketch with Tim, Joe, and Christine was
also fairly pleasant, if a bit skimpy on obvious jokes; it's just nice
to see a sketch that takes advantage of all of the performer's abilities and
aims for something rather distinct. My favorite piece of the night, though,
was Robin's 10-to-1, casting her as a Mediterranean punk singer unraveling her
personal grievances through her performance at a restaurant. I'm just a very
simple person who loves to watch that woman go off.
</p>
<p>
This was also an episode that feels like it properly implemented its host,
which is always a rather pleasant surprise. (I'm so used to not even knowing
how to write about the hosts in my reviews!) While none of his pieces really
soar, they at least give the episode a distinct character that keeps it from
merging with the rest. My favorite from him would be "The Mild One," casting
Bruce as a biker type who prefers to respond to aggression at his creed with
utter passivity; it's a premise that risks being flat, but Bruce is so damn
good in the role as he drops proverbs and subtly destroys everyone's egos that
it manages to work. I also somewhat liked the ski trip sketch, which was
another nice display of Mary's charm and performance chops opposite Bruce even
if the pacing was a bit too drawn-out. Lastly, the helicopter sketch gave him
the most room to cut loose and bring some of his trademark intensity to the
show, but it sadly isn't up to all that much. I'll appreciate the opportunity.
</p>
<p>
Sufficed to say, this isn't a very good or inspiring episode, but it's okay.
It's pretty much just what I've come to expect. Tune in for the stellar Luther
Vandross performances if nothing else. <i>(Penned 2/5/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/27/82: Elizabeth Ashley / Hall & Oates (S7 E13)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Sometimes, a really good sketch can just <i>make</i> an episode. All of the
struggles before or after it cease to be as important because goddammit, we
<i>got</i> somewhere. That's what happens in the Elizabeth Ashley episode,
courtesy of the phenomenal "Girls to Women" sketch. It's a piece so perfectly-executed that's a shame that it revels in the obscurity of an overlooked era; I'd argue it's actually Marilyn Suzanne Miller's finest work, and one of the most inventive and perfectly-written pieces of sketch comedy I've <i>ever</i> seen. (Funny that she would pen two of her best pieces with this cast.) It starts off as a simple slice-of-life scene set in the '60s, with Elizabeth and the cast playing girls at a house party, but at the halfway point of the runtime, the sketch repeats itself, word-for-word, with all of the characters aged up. It's then that the sketch reveals the complexities and brilliance of its writing, the ways that innocuous turns of phrase from the teenaged scenario take on an entirely different meaning in the adult one. Moments like Christine's saying to tell Mrs. Connor about how Dennis Connor has been feeling Elizabeth up (implied to be his mother in the earlier scene, but his wife in the second), or Robin's exclamation of "Well, guess who finally got their period!" exude an awe-inspiring brilliance in the dramatic or comedic value that they pack. That every further rewatch only serves to make the brilliance of every individual moment all the more clear... it's like a gift that keeps on giving. What a perfect piece.</p><p>With that being said, I don't want to discredit the rest of this episode simply because "Girls to Women" is so fucking strong—while nothing else is up to that level, they're pretty routinely enjoyable. Yes, we do get an awful prolonged Update, but hey, it includes the debut of Tim's Dr. Jack Badofksy, rifling through endless puns about herpes! And sure, we also get that eight minute-long sketch where Joe plays a rock star-adjacent version of the pope, but hey... it ends at some point, so let's forget about that one! On the plus side, we get two pretty fun Eddie pieces: "Big Damn Plastic Bubble," casting him wonderfully as a pitchman ranting about how stupid it would be to buy a big damn plastic bubble to protect your house in a commercial for big damn plastic bubbles, and the sketch where he sings "I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General" while holding his agent at gunpoint. (There's a lot to take in with that sketch, but the joy of seeing Eddie doing that is a simple joy.) There's also the pretty fun, female-led "Speaking As A Woman" sketch, a roundtable discussion with star actresses divulging about their kiss-and-tell novels. Such pop culture-driven pieces often struggle against the time fog, but there's a fun sharpness here that reminds me of "Reach Out" from the Lauren Hutton episode; the performances from the cast (especially Robin) are so good that they make the above-average material really excel.</p><p>Even if "Girls to Women" is largely responsible for the decent marks I'm giving this episode, I feel like it's worth noting that it's still, by and large, a fun affair. It would be difficult to expect anything less of a Season 7 episode than a few stinkers to weigh it down, but having such a phenomenal piece and some other more low-key delights makes for mighty fine leverage. <i>(Penned 3/02/21)</i></p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">3/20/82: Robert Urich / Mink DeVille, Buh-Weet And Da Dupreems (S7 E14)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It was Mary Gross who coined a series of irrelevant and unexciting host
choices during the Ebersol years as "the four Bobs"—Robert Conrad, Robert
Urich, Robert Culp, and Robert Blake—and given their negative reputation and
the frustrations I had with Conrad earlier this season, I was very nervous
about how this Urich episode would turn out. Those fears didn't dissipate,
either, as the episode quickly drew parallels between our host and Burt
Reynolds, who helmed one of the most dismal episodes from the original era.
Perhaps it was in the spirit of that skepticism, though, that I emerged from
this one largely unscathed; it's no great episode, but it's easy on the eyes.
</p>
<p>
Now, I'm also aware that the most commonly-distributed episode copy for Urich
is one that suffers from rather horrid pacing issues, which I think is
something to put into consideration as well. That's one of the most difficult
things about the Ebersol years, I've discovered; the sequencing of sketches is
a perpetual issue that can, in equal parts, accentuate the weaknesses of an
episode or mask them. I can see how bumping up the worst sketch of the
episode, the "Low Class Italian Theater" piece which finds Tony and co.
massacring Shakespeare with some pungent stereotype work, would sour the
viewing without any goodwill to help get it down, for instance. The removal of
the most significant moment of this episode, as well—Brian-Doyle Murray's
affecting tribute to the recently-deceased John Belushi—is also a rather
unfortunate altercation. But seeing everything lined up as it was supposed to
be gives things a bit more momentum, even if the sum of the episode's parts is
the same either way.
</p>
<p>
A lot of my enjoyment of the episode came in the form of some rather good
performances from the cast, if not always the sketches themselves. Joe Piscopo
scores a particularly fun Paul Harvey impression, for instance, and while the
writing of the piece itself is inconsistent, it finds a nice groove towards
the end as Joe's halting delivery repeatedly cuts his script off at
inopportune times; on a similar note, Tim gets to do a rather fun Dr.
Strangelove impression that keeps the sluggish, latest installment of "Hail to
the Chief" moving along. It's true that these solid performances also smack of
missing potential, which is perhaps this episode's greatest issue—there was
definitely something fun to the koala pregnancy sketch with Robin and Tony
that gets tragically lost in the six-minute runtime—but at least those
glimmers exist. There's also a pretty well-paced first half to the episode;
even if some stuff is fairly slight, like Buckwheat's "Dupreems" act or the
"School of Obedience" sketch that finds Eddie beating the shit out of Robin
and Tim's grandparent characters, there's fun to be had. (Eddie ripping
Tim's dentures out and throwing them out the window in the latter sketch was
definitely my favorite part of the episode.)
</p>
<p>
Robert Urich is a forgettable host, though he at least gets a fun moment with
his Burt Reynolds impression in the "Focus on Film" sketch. The most valuable
thing in this episode is the aforementioned tribute to Belushi
delivered by Brian-Doyle Murray. It's not some sort of grand gesture, and SNL
isn't pulling out all the stops to get a flashy cameo or anything; it's just
an intimate moment on-stage with one of Belushi's closest friends. It's the
first tragic death in SNL's history, but far from the last, and it's a
bittersweet moment to look back on that hits as hard now as it did then.
</p>
<p>
Everything else in this episode veers on the inessential, but it's far from
the worst this season can get. <i>(Penned 2/11/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">3/27/82: Blythe Danner / Rickie Lee Jones (S7 E15)</b>
</p>
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<p>
I feel as if, given the inconsistency of most Season 7 episodes, it's
difficult for me to confidently say when an episode is particularly strong.
There have been so few to maintain my attention all the way through; to watch
Season 7 is to sign up for a season where every episode alternates between
surges of energy and frustrating lulls. What makes an episode, ultimately, is
the sense of momentum—how much goodwill can an episode build up, and how much
can that counteract the inevitable rough patches? This episode, I think, is a
great example of one that's able to weather that vicious cycle and come out on
top.
</p>
<p>
Much of that is in the strength of the first half of the episode, delivering
back-to-back delights without an overreliance on the recurring characters I've
come to expect filling the top of an episode. It's true that we get the return
of Tyrone Green, Eddie's gifted prison poet, but there's also something to be
said about how wonderful his return is here. Whereas so many of recurring SNL
sketches are loose, assembly line rewrites (see, even in this season, Velvet
Jones and Mister Robinson's Neighborhood), this sketch is intent to cast out a
different scenario entirely: Eddie is trying to rob a reclusive poet (Mary) at
gunpoint, but when she recognizes him as a fan, the two read "Cill My
Landlord" aloud together and form an unexpected, adorable bond. That's the
only recurring piece we get tonight, and it's so original that it's nothing
less than a complete joy. Even stronger than that piece is "The New Celibacy,"
casting Tim and Robin as a couple who mutually agree to abstain from sex...
but when they realize that started out of a miscommunication, their sudden
burst of horniness derails the dinner party they're throwing. It's a perfect
piece for them—two of my favorite cast members this season—and they channel
every last ounce of their manic energy into speed-running their dinner and
sultrily eating their meals while maintaining intense eye contact.
</p>
<p>
Even if the rest of the episode can't reach those dizzying, early heights,
there are some other delights that keep it marching confidently to the finish
line. The latest appearance from Michael Davis was, of course, as wonderful as
usual, and he's become my favorite guest performer across the past season; we
also get a monologue for once, and a really fun one, with Mary forcing Blythe
Danner to do impressions and slowly breaking her down for thinking SNL would
be anything less than an ordeal. Perhaps the most high-profile part of this
episode is the debut of Eddie's Gumby impression, though it was merely okay
for me—we haven't yet found the definitive voice of the character, nor the
right format (he appears here on the still-questionably named "Uncle Tom Show"
opposite Joe's Tom Snyder), but there's a novelty to seeing the character in
its infancy, playing to a largely untickled audience.
</p>
<p>
Season 7 continues to be an odd season, often more unique and fleetingly
compelling than funny, but hey, it's just nice to have an episode that's
entertaining all the way through. I don't expect that from the show anymore,
but I absolutely appreciate it. <i>(Penned 2/16/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">4/10/82: Daniel J. Travanti / John Cougar (S7 E16)</b>
</p>
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<p>
Daniel J. Travanti's episode of SNL is an unremarkable episode with a
remarkable gimmick: will SNL viewers call a hotline to save a lobster's life,
or let him be boiled and eaten? It's a wild experiment at the dawn of the
consideration that television could be an interactive medium, and on a live
show like SNL, the notion of leaving something like this in the hands of
viewers back home is so bold that it's hard not to appreciate. Whether or not
it's all that funny is debatable—I got some good laughs from Eddie's
deliberately slow reading of the "Kill Larry" hotline number, and I liked the
updates and little segments throughout the episode on how the votes are
tallying—but how often is Season 7 all that funny anyway?
</p>
<p>
If the rest of this episode serves as any indication, things can be a bumpy
ride. Kicking the night off with the debut of the Whiners is nothing if not a
bad omen; hearing Joe and Robin just make the most annoying, whiney voices
they can muster, propelled by the singular character trait of being
insufferable, is... a choice. (I do not look forward to their nine subsequent
appearances.) We also get an SNL Newsbreak that goes down like a lead balloon
over fourteen sluggish minutes, and while I don't like to talk about the
frequently-agonizing Weekend Updates of these years, it's impossible
<i>not</i> to talk about them as a detractor when they encompass almost one
third of the entire show. (Brian-Doyle Murray runs through a list of
photographs of the Reagans waving for two minutes.) Going from that into a ten
minute-long parody of <i>Hill Street Blues</i>, and one that offers no laughs
to anyone without familiarity with the show, is even more fatigue-inducing.
It's fortunate, then, that the back-half has some silly and light pieces that
bring some of the energy back, even if they're not huge winners: Eddie as the
tooth fairy works effortlessly, if not with a lot of inspiration, and the
Reagan sketch was biting but brief.
</p>
<p>
Aside from Larry the Lobster, we get one solid sketch out of the episode: "The
Merman Zone," with Tony as a celebrity impersonator casting agent falling into
a mania over how everyone can do an Ethel Merman impression. It's a fun
exercise in metaness, with Tony breaking away from the set and wandering
through the studio like a junkie, bargaining with the SNL cameramen and crew
for just a little Merman ("There's no such thing as a <i>little</i> Merman,"
Travanti says). It's not brilliant writing or anything, literally culminating
with a <i>Twilight Zone</i> fake-out, but like the Larry the Lobster runner
there's a gleefulness to it that makes it feel novel in a season that could
always afford to loosen up. If only the rest of the episode was able to
permeate that energy more. <i>(Penned 2/16/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">4/17/82: Johnny Cash / Elton John (S7 E17)</b>
</p>
<p></p>
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<p></p>
<p>It's always exciting to see a legend host SNL, though it's also also an occasion that I'm unsure of how to prepare myself for. It's not that there's a huge risk that the episode will be bad, unless your name rhymes with Dilton Derle, but it's hard to know to what degree SNL will resemble SNL. The best episodes of this breed are the ones that merge the reverence they have for their host with the format of the show—a category I see Desi Arnaz's joyous episode as the best example of, or Betty White more recently—but there's always a fear that an episode won't live up to the expectations placed at their feet. Fortunately, while Johnny Cash's episode doesn't end up being a shining example of this special category of episodes, it's certainly not an exception to the rule: it's indubitably charming.</p>
<p>A lot of that simply comes from the fact that Johnny is having an absolute joy of a time being there, and he's game for whatever they've got to throw at him. Sometimes that means he has to monologue about his love of traveling by train, or sitting unaffected as Robin shakes dandruff onto his black suit; even when a piece is simple, it works because Johnny is there and he's down to clown. The best of these pieces is also one of the most enjoyably silly things we've gotten all season, with him singing a rousing, interminable rendition of "99,999 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" to Eddie's death row prisoner, who dances along gleefully as the warden, priest, and another prisoner beg for sweet release.</p><p>Sadly, when Johnny exits the formula, his episode begins to resemble Season 7 as usual, which isn't the best thing. Nothing is particularly difficult, but it's hard to get excited about the Andy Rooney <i>Honeymooners</i> spoof, the 15-minute long SNL Newsbreak, or the latest "Hail to the Chief" installment (though that one fares better than others). The sole highlight of these Cash-less sections are Eddie's commentary, responding to a racist letter he received after last week's "Larry the Lobster" stunt by eating the guy on television, and the latest appearance from Jack Badosky, however much he isn't at the height of his power just yet. Still: "Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma'amputation." Fortunately, too, everything that works in this episode really works, and the musical performances from Johnny and Elton John (who performs an incredibly affecting tribute to John Lennon) help to further sweeten the deal. In a season that I've come to accept as inconsistent, there's something nice about seeing everyone having a wonderful time. <i>(Penned 3/04/22)</i></p><p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">4/24/82: Robert Culp / The Charlie Daniels Band (S7 E18)</b>
</p>
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<p></p>
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<p></p>
<p>
If there was something that I could at least say about Season 7 prior to this
episode, it's that for as difficult as some episodes could be, they never
truly bottomed out. Even the most unenjoyable episodes had something to them
that clicked, however counterbalanced by the bad: for as padded as I found Tim
Curry's episode to be, he's a magnetic host who gets to perform the wonderful
"Zucchini Song," and for as much distasteful material as Robert Conrad had,
there was also some fun with Velvet Jones and Christine Ebersole.
Unfortunately, that streak has come to an end—the Robert Culp episode is
absolutely abysmal, the likes of which would make even the lowest depths of
Season 6 shudder.
</p>
<p>
It's hard to say what specifically went wrong, aside from almost everything.
There's no shortage of interesting premises here, but none of them cohere into
something greater while greatly overstaying their welcome. I want to like, for
instance, the sketch casting Mary and Tim as an egg and sperm conversing
awkwardly after a one-night stand, but it feels so thinly-written and
uninvolved that very little pops. A similar issue emerges in the "party girl"
sketch, casting Robin as a woman who is decidedly not a prostitute so much as
one who tries to give her clients some wholesome fun; Robin gives it her all
as she always does, and the idea is cute, but it runs painfully wrong without
strong writing to back it up.
</p>
<p>
Both of these pale in comparison, though, to the U.S.S. Cunningham sketch, a
tour de force in the art of absolute awfulness. There's something great in the
idea of a sunken battleship that has kept its life support operational for 19
years at the bottom of the sea, but I can't even confidently say if it
"explores" that idea. It instead becomes an ungodly amalgamation of desperate
nonsense that lasts for ten minutes with no assistance from the
perpetually-nervous Robert Culp, who looks like he's ready to burst out of his
skin. (I can't blame him here, though, considering they make him cross-dress
and eat oatmeal with his hands, for no discernable reason on either account.)
It is, undoubtedly, one of the worst sketches I have ever seen.
</p>
<p>
The sole saving grace of this episode is Eddie, and the most interesting thing
about the Culp episode is how much it tangibly feels like a turning point for
his tenure; someone shouts his name when he first walks on-screen, and the
audience wakes up every time he takes the stage. As much as I disagree with
some of the popular narratives of these seasons that Eddie was the saving
grace of the show (this is a great cast all around), there's no denying the
strength of his charisma and how it can will a moment, no matter how thin,
into working. He also scores the episode's sole highlight, if a particularly
bright one, with his goofy but committed James Brown-as-Annie bit, blasting
through <i>Annie</i> showtunes with the fiery gusto of the Godfather of Soul.
(You can tell how much of the act is based off of Brown's legendary
performance last season, skulking around with a cape and all!) Unfortunately,
it hardly amounts to a respite—this episode, as a whole, is dogshit.
<i>(Penned 2/17/22)</i>
</p>
<p>
<b>GRADE: D.</b>
</p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">5/15/82: Danny Devito / Sparks (S7 E19)</b>
</p>
<p></p>
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<p></p>
<p>
I love Danny Devito, but even saying that is stupid and redundant:
<i>everyone</i> loves Danny Devito. He's one of those rare figures who has
withstood the test of time flawlessly, forever a welcome member of the
zeitgeist. He just make things better, and dammit, if he doesn't do the same
here: even if nothing truly succeeds on its own strengths, Danny's presence
makes everything feel that much more alive. In a season packed with
blank-slate hosts who seldom have the right energy, his liveliness is all the
more felt.
</p>
<p>
I mean, what better testament is there to the strength of Danny as a host than
the fact that he made the barely-awaited return of the Whiners not just
passable, but legitimately amusing? Alongside Mary Gross as a put-upon
stewardess, Danny funnels the sort of exasperated energy into the sketch that
these pieces need, a gleeful counterbalance to the bullshit that Joe and Robin
dribble out of their mouths. (There's no moment more satisfying than Danny, at
wit's end, destroying the box of china that they made him put under his seat
in a fit of rage.) The "Executive Stress Test" sketch is similarly on the
verge of not really working, centered around Danny's life imploding around him
on the verge of his big promotion, but Danny is the exact right sort of person
to center it: he alternates between anxious and patient perfectly, and allows
the scene to arrive at a graceful conclusion, if not one as satisfying as it
could've been writing-wise.
</p>
<p>
I can only hope to see him become more prominent in his later hosting
gigs—these Season 7 episodes never give their hosts nearly enough to do. (He
sadly disappears in the second half, while at least scoring a charming
appearance in another charming Pudge and Solomon sketch.) Fortunately, though,
there are enough points of intrigue that the episode doesn't die the sort of
slow and painful death that many other Ebersol episodes are privy towards.
Tony gets an excellent spotlight with the "Table Talk" piece, demonstrating
that the best way to look like you know your wine is to berate and insult the
server. I feel like he was billed, somewhat incorrectly, as a Belushi
stand-in, and while that never comes into fruition, those flashes of Vic
Salukin energy as he scolds the waiter and then cackles behind his back offer
a similarly electrifying spark. We also have the final appearance of Andy
Kaufman, conducting a sit-down interview with Brian-Doyle Murray about the end
of his wrestling career and showing a clip of him being absolutely pummeled by
a professional wrestler. Like the rest of his wrestling act, it's not super
funny, but it's an appreciably fascinating display nonetheless—the dude gets
absolutely <i>pummeled</i>. All of that amounts to a pretty solid episode, and
about all I could ever really ask for from the show right now.
</p>
<p>
One last note: Sparks! Those dudes fuckin' rock. Russel Mael doing his
hyperactive rock star act and Ron Mael being a mustachioed, floppily-dancing
weirdo, performing a song about Mickey Mouse? Sign me up. I haven't commented
on it too much, but this has been a really good season for musical guests, and
I'll always be on-board with SNL getting a group on this brazenly goofy. Less
Randy Newman and more deadpan monologues about the rise of the mouse
population is all I'll say. <i>(Penned 2/20/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">5/22/82: Olivia Newton-John (S7 E20)</b>
</p>
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<p>The trek across Season 7 has been as exciting as it has been tumultuous, so perhaps it's no surprise that the season finale finds us in a place that feels very much like business as usual. In lieu of diving into this rather standard outing for the show, though, I'd rather take the moment to discuss Season 7 in general: I liked it, if not as much as I was hoping. It's undeniable that this season was a step in the right direction, away from both the insecurities of Season 6 and the smug complacency of the end of the original era, though in all fairness, the only real necessity to rise above those two traits is confidence. O'Donoghue spent his half of the season finding that in nihilism, and Ebersol found it in creating a formula: find some recurring bits, place them up top to give every episode a boost, and let the fates decide how the rest of an episode winds down. At the same time, though, Ebersol was welcoming of experimentation, week after week, and he never shied away from the counterculture energy that put SNL on the map. In other words, Season 7, while clearly flawed, presents a promising blueprint for the rest of the Ebersol era. </p><p>With that being said, in the moment, the Olivia Newton-John episode is rather prototypical, and aside from a few highlights, it vanishes about as quickly as it plays out. Olivia is barely a part of proceedings, even by this season's standards; for the most part, she serves as an emcee and musical guest, makes appearances as herself in the cold open and Newsbreak, and reprises her character from <i>Grease</i> in a short sketch deep in the back-half. For the most part, this episode just feels like an effort to amble to the finish line, which I suppose is earned—we've gone through a lot this season and it's nice to see everyone just bringing what they've got and enjoying themselves, and that spirit helped make some of the more thin pieces in the episode (the abbreviation-heavy businessman sketch, or Tony's sports organ advertisement) more palatable. We also get another "I Married A Monkey" segment, though those seem to have unfortunately run their course; aside from the surprise of the premise revealing itself, there's nothing new. </p><p>But let's focus on what really works. The Sinatra/Stevie Wonder duet between Joe and Eddie is a deserving classic and one of the finest displays of the pair's chemistry, as the two sing a comedically blunt take on Stevie and Paul McCartney's iconic "Ebony and Ivory" with altered lyrics like "I am black and you are white / You're blind as a bat and I have sight." (I suppose it's more in the delivery than the writing, but watching these two belt it out with their phenomenal impressions is such a joy.) Meanwhile, Michael Davis scores yet again with another splendid performance and one of my new favorites, with him juggling ping-pong balls and hard-boiled eggs with his mouth—the combination of his astounding ability and the infallible deadpan he laces every single word has made him my favorite special guest, maybe second to Andy Kaufman. Lastly, while not as good as the other two, I appreciated the slice-of-life sketch about Mary and Robin's dorky high schoolers interacting with the cast of <i>Grease</i>; I don't know much about the movie, but it's a premise that allows for some great character work from the two.</p><p>Overall, as I said, it's another Season 7 episode. I can't wait to see how Ebersol's era keeps refining itself. <i>(Penned 2/26/22)</i></p><p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">Cumulative Season Rankings:</b>
</p>
<p>
<b>1.</b> (no host) / Rod Stewart (A)<br /><b>2.</b> Bernadette
Peters / The Go-Gos, Billy Joel (A-)<br /><b>3.</b> Blythe Danner /
Rickie Lee Jones (B+)<br /><b>4.</b> Donald Pleasance / Fear (B+)<br /><b>5.</b> Susan Saint James / The Kinks (B)<br /><b>6.</b> Elizabeth Ashley
/ Daryl Hall & John Oates (B)<br /><b>7.</b> Johnny Cash / Elton John
(B)<br /><b>8.</b> Danny DeVito / Sparks (B)<br /><b>9.</b> James
Coburn / Lindsay Buckingham & The Cholos (B)<br /><b>10.</b> Lauren
Hutton / Rick James (B)<br /><b>11.</b> John Madden / Jennifer Holliday
(B-)<br /><b>12.</b> George Kennedy / Miles Davis (B-)<br /><b>13.</b> Olivia Newton-John (B-)<br /><b>14.</b> Bruce Dern / Luther
Vandross (B-)<br /><b>15.</b> Daniel J. Travanti / John Cougar (C+)<br /><b>16.</b> Bill Murray / The Spinners (C+)<br /><b>17.</b> Robert Urich /
Mink De Ville, Buhweet and the Dupreems (C+)<br /><b>18.</b> Tim Curry /
Meat Loaf (C)<br /><b>19.</b> Robert Conrad / The Allman Brothers Band
(C)<br /><b>20.</b> Robert Culp / The Charlie Daniels Band (D)
</p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE SKETCHES:<br /></b><b>10.</b> "I Married A Monkey" (S7E06 /
Bernadette Peters)<br /><b>9.</b> "Pudge and Solomon" (S7E10 / John
Madden)<br /><b>8.</b> "Hidden Photo" (S7E06 / Bernadette Peters)<br /><b>7.</b> "James Brown is Annie" (S7E18 / Robert Culp)<br /><b>6.</b> "Prose
and Cons" (S7E01 / hostless)<br /><b>5.</b> "The Little Richard Simmons
Show" (S7E01 / hostless)<br /><b>4.</b> "Making Love Alone" (S7E06 /
Bernadette Peters)<br /><b>3.</b> "The New Celibacy" (S7E15 / Blythe
Danner)<br /><b>2.</b> "Strangers in the Night / Strangers at the Funeral
Home" (S7E01 / hostless)<br /><b>1.</b> "Girls to Women" (S7E13 /
Elizabeth Ashley)
</p>
<p>
<b>Other great sketches: </b>"Buh-weet Sings" and "She's A Pig" (S7E02 /
Susan Saint James); "Spray-On Laetril" (S7E03 / George Kennedy); "Jogger
Motel" (S7E04 / Donald Pleasance); "Hail to the Chief" (S7E05 / Lauren
Hutton); "The Zucchini Song (S7E07 / Tim Curry); "Losers Locker Room" (S7E10 /
John Madden); "Those Crazy Taboosters" (S7E11 / James Coburn); "Poets" (S7E15
/ Blythe Danner); "Larry the Lobster" and "The Merman Zone" (S7E16 / Daniel J.
Travanti); "Last Request" (S7E17 / Johnny Cash); "Table Talk" (S7E19 / Danny
DeVito); "Ebony and Ivory" (S7E20 / Olivia Newton-John).
</p>
<p>
<b>Honorable mention:</b> Michael Davis. I don't feel right putting any
of his segments on my list of favorite sketches, but almost every segment of
his was an amazing highlight in their respective shows. It's a shame that he
wouldn't remain a frequent guest.
</p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE MUSICAL PERFORMANCES:<br />10.</b> The Charlie Daniels Band (S7E18 / Robert Culp)<br /><b>9.</b> The Spinners (S7E09 / Bill Murray)<br /><b>8.</b> Johnny Cash (S7E17 / Johnny Cash)<br /><b>7.</b> Fear (S7E04 / Donald Pleasance)<br /><b>6.</b> Elton John (S7E17 / Johnny Cash)<br /><b>5.</b> Rickie Lee Jones (S7E15 / Blythe Danner)<br /><b>4.</b> Rick James (S7E05 / Lauren Hutton)<b><br />3.</b> Luther Vandross (S7E12 / Bruce Dern)<br /><b>2.</b> Sparks (S7E19 / Danny DeVito)<br /><b>1.</b> Jennifer Holliday
(S7E10 / John Madden)</p><p><b>WEEKEND UPDATE:</b> While I haven't traditionally commented on Weekend Update across every season I've watched... I do feel some obligation to speak on them a bit, since I rarely single them out in my reviews. They're a key part of the show, but so often, they're also a slog to sit through at worst, and fleetingly interesting at best. They definitely hold up the least when you're watching SNL as I am, back-to-back, becoming more of an obligation to sit through than a source of potential promise. That's also led me to developing some rather odd takes about Update, such as my appreciation for Dan Aykroyd's tenure and my boredom with the Jane/Bill pair-up. (Jane, for what it's worth, is definitely my favorite anchor so far.)</p><p>Brian Doyle-Murray is a clear step up from Charles, simply because he possesses more charisma in this position. There's a warmth to his voice, though the quality of the writing is about as good as his predecessor—no surprise considering he wrote the vast majority of Rocket and Matthius' Updates. His affinity for long lists also feels like obvious padding, and is a consistent pain in the ass to endure considering that Newsbreak already feels like a deeply padded segment, sometimes extending to the 15-minute mark in the second half of the season. That's literally a fourth of the entire show, and it unfortunately weighs down episode quality <i>significantly</i>. It's a bit troubling that Brian was best whenever he was hoisted by his own petard; the poorly-timed, way-too-long list from the Madden episode, and the visible heartbreak he experienced as the falling letters gag got less and less response every week were bizarrely hilarious to me. Lastly, on the note of his co-anchors, Mary and later Christine: eh. I loved them both this season, but this wasn't the best use of their abilities; Mary, at least, had a bit more of a voice that Newsbreak could play with.</p><p>But a positive note! This is the first era of the show where I'm starting to really enjoy some of the correspondent segments, which were hit-or-miss across both the original era (with its oversaturation of the same characters) and Doumanian's brief reign. Eddie Murphy's always packing heat, and Tim's appearances as Jack Badofsky have been pretty fun too, so here's hoping Update can remain a good showcase for these sorts of pieces. <br /></p>
<p><b>SEASON GRADE AVERAGE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">Follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>!</i>
</p>
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<p style="text-align: center;"><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;"><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 1</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 2</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-reviewed-and-ranked.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 3</a><br style="font-style: normal;" /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/09/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 4</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/12/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 5</a></span><br style="font-style: normal;" /><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 6</a> | <b>Season 7</b> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 8</a><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 9</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 10</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 11</a><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 12</a></span></i></p>Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-2069714857210929972022-01-18T15:50:00.019-06:002023-10-15T01:09:04.472-05:00Saturday Night Live, Ranked and Reviewed: Season 6<p></p>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"> "It just doesn't matter!"</span></i></b></span>
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<p></p>
<p>
With the original era drawing to a close, I now approach some of the most
infamously dangerous territory in SNL's history: the maligned Season 6. In the
fall-out between Lorne Michaels and Fred Silverman, the show's talent
coordinator, Jean Doumanian, was put in charge of helming the next era of the
show and building an entirely new cast and writer's room. The results—seen at
the time as a disastrous twelve-episode run that found the show in danger of
cancellation—have since become the subject of legend, and in recent history,
of significant re-evaluation.
</p>
<p>
Of the infamous seasons of <i>Saturday Night Live</i> (6, 11, 20, 30), Season
6 has always been the one I'm most eager to explore because of the unique,
nigh-impossible challenge the show has been tasked with: retool the hippest,
most beloved comedy show on television without <i>any</i> precedent. No matter
how good or bad Season 6 would end up, it was tasked with fighting an uphill
battle all the way through. This is where I think the re-evaluation
spearheaded by the likes of the
<a href="https://twitter.com/ThatWeekInSNL">That Week in SNL podcast</a>,
<a href="https://bronwynjoan.com/snl-review-index">Bronwyn Douwsma</a>, and
<a href="https://onesnladay.com/">Stooge</a> are so invaluable; they've
facilitated a broader discussion on the show, acknowledging the circumstances
in which they were created but with the assistance of hindsight. Such people
inspired me to begin chronicling my journey through SNL in the first place,
and subsequently, I'm very excited to add to that ongoing dialogue!
</p>
<p>
For my reviews of the preceding season, Season 5,
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/12/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">CLICK HERE</a>! Now, onwards, into one of the most fascinating periods in SNL's history,
beginning with...
</p>
<span><a name='more'></a></span>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/15/80: Elliott Gould / Kid Creole & the Coconuts (S6 E01)</b>
</p>
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<p>
Having spent the past five seasons with the original cast, it feels
immediately jarring for our first episode of this new season to commence with
a shot of Gail Matthius' face. It feels even stranger as the cold open
progresses, and as it becomes clear that the show has been put even more on
the spot than the audience. We've replaced one of the most beloved comedy
casts of its heyday with six fresh-faced newbies that this new, Doumanian-led
era of SNL feels so much pressure to immediately endear to us in perhaps the
most backwards way possible. Truly, what better way to introduce our new
sketch icons than by cross-referencing them with their predecessors and
reminding us
<i>and</i> them of the shoes they have to fill? And that's barring the
nonsensicality of most of the comparisons that they're trying to make, too. I
suppose it's fair enough to point out the elephant in the room up top, but it
does so in a way that creates more expectations that this nervous premiere can
really deliver.
</p>
<p>
With that being said... it's certainly not as bad as I was led to believe, or
as the cold open forecasted. I'm well aware that S6 is a season of immense
ebbs and flows, both unfairly-maligned and with the capacity to be miserable
in the same stroke... but this premiere fares better than I was anticipating,
if not well. It's difficult not to immediately pick up on the fact that the
show's broader sensibilities have changed, and very much for the worse—thin,
hacky premises galore!—but I felt a shocking level of magnetism here.
Writing-wise, a bad precedent has been set, but everything is executed by the
cast with a shocking level of vigor, and the particularly hot crowd helps
everything go down easy. You could interpret that as damning praise for an
episode that so readily makes jokes about poop, anti-Semitism, and
homosexuality, but I prefer to think of it as a silver lining.
</p>
<p>
Hell, the cast is doing more to sell this episode than its host is allowed to.
Elliott Gould is honestly a great choice, though his track record of gameness
and amiability also means that the show easily drowns him out in straight
roles. It is sort of a neat contrast to last season's premiere, where SNL hid
its instability behind Steve Martin (very much working overtime), and I do
actually respect this more... but leaving someone like Elliott at the borders
of this episode feels like an ignoble end to one of the best hosts of the
first five years, and I'm worried about if this new era knows how to
accommodate for the talent it floats in on a weekly basis.
</p>
<p>
It's probably worthwhile now to talk about the material itself: ehhh? As I
said earlier, the sketches don't often feel truly insufferable, but it
certainly feels lowest common denominator. Room for nuance is lost for cheap
jokes that exist to get some kneejerk reactions and woops from the crowd, and
while some sketches feel more lively than others, it's hard to really describe
any as <i>strong</i>. Interestingly, the show seems to be backpedaling out of
the long-winded structure of the past two seasons, crawling with elaborate
epics, and returning to the earlier seasons' knack for blackouts and
quick-paced scenes. Hard to say how well it pays off, but the brevity ensures
that no stinker ever overstays its welcome. The more proper sketches are an
expected mixed bag: they all have pretty dumb ideas, and sometimes they feel
more like an after-dark episode of <i>All That</i> than SNL (nose-wrestling?
an accordion player polka-ing people to death?), but everything has spirit. I
was worried about the "homosexuals in the military" sketch, for instance, and
while there were the expected groaners, Joe and Charles work so hard to get it
over that I guiltily enjoyed it. (The fact that then-writer, future cast
member Terry Sweeney penned it also helped ensure that the piece doesn't fall
on the wrong side of the map.)
</p>
<div>
There's also that everyone gets their own spotlight across the episode, and
nobody fares too poorly even if their material is nothing to write home about.
Both Denny and Gilbert anchor a more-than-competent talk show sketch with some
strong characterizations as the Waxmans, breathing freshness into a
straightforward piece; similarly, Gail does well with her big character piece,
the debut of Vicky, even if it gets bogged down in its sluggish and skeevy
premise. Charles comes across as a bit iffier and hammier, even if I find that
endearing of him right now, though I fear it'll become more wince-worthy as
his desperation grows. Lastly, Joe already feels fully-formed even if he's
mostly trotted out here as a team player, and Ann... she makes it through
without being embarrassed.
</div>
<p>
Everything else in the episode kept it feeling refreshingly anew with the sort
of underground sensibilities that these last few seasons of the show lost. I'm
an especially huge fan of this season's new interest in spotlighting comedic
short films: Randal Kleiser's "Foot Fetish" piece was legitimately inspired
and the sharpest bit of bawdiness all night, and Jonathan Demme's "Gidgette
Goes to Hell" music video was a neat little new wave artifact. Aside from the
deafening cowbell that abducted the sound mix, too, I dug the tropical disco
cocaine vibes of Kid Creole & the Coconuts—I know this is one of the best
seasons for musical guests in the show's history, and I'm fully looking
forward to it. I'm getting tastes of the grime and attitude of those first few
seasons of the original era, and I'm all here for that compared to how often
the era's jadedness would lead it to complacency. I'll enjoy that goodwill;
there are far worse ways to kick things off.
<strike>Like next episode!</strike> <i>(Penned 12/07/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/22/80: Malcolm McDowell / Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band (S6
E02)</b>
</p>
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<p>
It's so, so easy to label the Malcolm McDowell episode as a gargantuan
trainwreck, perhaps even the worst episode of SNL ever, and to call it a day.
Indeed, that was the judgment I was ready to make going into it. My
understanding of this episode was that it would be akin to ripping a bandage
off: no matter the highs that S6 may reach in the future, this second episode
of the season will always exist as the nadir, an episode haunted by ghastly
vibes that leaves the rest of the Doumanian era feeling like it's fighting a
losing battle, and that any successes are seemingly in spite of itself. Even
if I try to dissuade that notion, it's hard to fight through an episode with
such a nasty edge without feeling second-hand embarrassment for everyone
involved.
</p>
<p>
But therein lies the thing: these are all people who, honest to god, are
<i>trying</i>. This is a cast of six who have to trudge through material that,
with the limited assistance of Jean Doumanian, puts them at the mercy of an
audience that questions their authority. It's even worse that the failure of
such horrible pieces like "Commie Hunting Season" or "Jack the Stripper"
validates that skepticism, and there isn't an ounce of defense I could make
for either of those pieces. And yet... I want these new kids to win. I know
that none but Piscopo succeed at that and they end up being purged at one
point or another, but I want to defy the history of the show and let them
prove me wrong. And to be honest, it's hard to be angry at them because, if
nothing else, seeing the preceding era become complacent and pathetic at the
very end was worse than this, at least at the level of being a curiosity
piece. If "Commie Hunting Season" is repugnant, it's at least fascinatingly
repugnant, a special brand of ugliness that captures your attention. Something
like fucking "Manhasset" from last season just drains the soul into pitiful
boredom.
</p>
<div>
Basically: this episode sucks, but there's value to it. There are things that,
if unable to escape the shadows its worse material cast, try their darnedest
and suggest that there's still a reason to care. For instance, there are a lot
of pieces that work by virtue of the cast's dedication, perhaps none more
notoriously than the "Leather Weather Report." It's often written off as one
of the worst of the season—which real talk, it's <i>right</i> before "Commie
Hunting Season" so the target is kind of off there—but while it's not secretly
great, there's something I appreciate about the subversive griminess of it,
and Denny works overtime to make it work, something that I appreciate about
her efforts time and time again. (The Reagan and wine sketches similarly only
function because of her.) Gilbert is also something of a stand-out at the
moment, even if I know that he grows more sullen as S6 progresses. Here,
though, he gets to launch into a delightfully fiery solo piece as a Big
Tobacco spokesperson disparaging the shittiness of the human lung. A later
Update segment taking jabs at the first episode's poor reception, too, dodges
SNL's penchant for deflecting criticism manages to be fairly entertaining
indebted to Gilbert's exasperated performance. ("Who writes this show,
Hitler?")
</div>
<p>
For the sake of actually dissecting the bad, though... yes, the worst of this
episode is some of the lowest SNL has ever gone. "Commie Hunting Season" is so
questionable and so fucking dark that it basically destroys the argument that
anything should be able to be joked about. Whose bright idea was it to craft a
satirical piece around a massacre spearheaded by the American Nazi Party and
the KKK, let alone to go forward with that and cast these people as not mere
objects of ridicule, but people we're supposed to find humor in? All you need
to hear is the piercing silence of an entire studio of people after Charles
Rocket utters the n-word, and to then recognize that pause existed for
theoretical laughter, to know that there's no point of recovery for any of
these people's reputations. "Jack the Stripper" is somehow almost even worse,
though; it's like watching a friend you love do the worst goddamn emulation of
a <i>Monty Python</i> sketch that you've ever seen. SNL is trying, but it's so
desperate to be ridiculous that it makes "Serf City" look like high art. (And
that stage fog... it's like the sketch is begging not to be comprehended in
real time.)
</p>
<p>
These are the worst impulses of S6, which makes it all the more frustrating
that the pieces which don't play with loaded or desperate concepts actually
fare well and deserve to be more commonplace. The gothic novel shop sketch
with Ann Risley is actually well-written and chuckle-worthy, and it benefits
from a strong, Eric Idle-esque performance from Malcolm McDowell—who, oh yeah,
is our host tonight, and he'd love to forget that! It's absurdity done well,
penned with an actual sense of what it wants to be and the conclusion that
it's going towards. We also get another Mitchell Kriegman film, and I
preferred it to last week's; they're not laugh-out-loud funny, but there's a
thoughtfulness to them akin to the original era's Weiss and Schiller pretapes
that demonstrates the worth of having eclectic voices in the mix willing to
take the show down different avenues. And as an unrelated sidenote, speaking
of different avenues: fuck that one guy who yelled "SHIT!" after Captain
Beefheart's second performance, because those were as awesome as they were
hell-bent on being beautifully abrasive. (Also, I kid about that one guy in
the audience, because he gave me my biggest laugh of the night.)
</p>
<p>
So yeah... what can I say about this episode? Well... it's not good. It's very
bad. It doesn't <i>not</i> deserve its legendary reputation... but if it's a
dirge, it's a goddamn fascinating one that has room for occasional
appreciation, and I'll take that any day of the week. <i>(Penned 12/18/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: D.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">11/06/80: Ellen Burstyn / Aretha Franklin, Keith Sykes (S6 E03)</b>
</p>
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<p>
After toiling over the last two bumpy (and at times truly disastrous) outings,
the Ellen Burstyn episode feels like a nice bit of course correction. It's not
a particularly great episode by any means, and it's still plagued by a few
problems endemic to Season 6, but it feels like we're feasibly heading in the
right direction. Whether or not the next episodes will follow up on its
successes, it seems to suggest that, hey, we could be getting somewhere good,
and further down the line, there's even the potential for us to get something
truly wonderful. We just need to build up to that and continue weeding out the
kinks that don't really work.
</p>
<p>
For the most part, this is an episode that chugs along pretty amiably and
unremarkably, and while that doesn't give it much of a chance to step out of
the ugly shadow Malcolm McDowell's episode cast over S6, things are certainly
cohering, and sometimes even clicking. A lot of that is assisted by the
variety of character-driven premises on display instead of heavy topicality or
putrid conceptual work. Gilbert and Denny are able to follow up on their
Waxman sketch from the premiere with another silly installment of "What's It
All About," while Gail gets a second, more naturalistic framework for her
Vickie character. Both are exercises in refinement, especially the latter;
instead of leaning against the potential sleaze of a young girl character, her
visit to Planned Parenthood with her guileless friend (played by Denny) keys
into some fun slice-of-life vibes, all properly enlivened by Gail's very
flippant characterization. Meanwhile, while I'm not too endeared to Joe's new
Jersey Guy character—the choice of scenario for this debut sketch feels like a
flat improv exercise, and his quirks are rather overblown—there's some sneaky
good writing to it and it's gratifying to hear the audience whipped into such
a frenzy. Here's hoping his future outings expand into better places.
</p>
<p>
This episode also some legitimately great pieces in the mix. Gilbert's short
film as Pepe Gonzalez has a rather thin premise, but it's so specific and
flashy that it's kind of hard for it to fail for me. Gilbert commits to the
absurdity in a piece that makes good use of his boyish charms (weird to say
knowing what he'd become), and being able to see some beautifully-shot footage
of '80s New York feels like an absolute treat. There's also a stunning
10-to-1, most certainly the best piece of the season thus far and a piece that
could go toe to toe with the slice-of-life pieces from the original era. Ellen
Burstyn as a host isn't given too many chances to shine across the episode—a
shame given her joyful monologue—but I'm glad we could end the night with a
piece that met her distinct pedigree. She channels everything she's got into a
stunning, sometimes heart-wrenching portrait of a lonely old woman ostracized
by the neighborhood kids and quietly mourning the death of her son, while Gail
submits equally compelling work as the naive kid that she lures inside for a
few minutes of company.
</p>
<p>
Of course, not everything works. Although not as great of an offense as some
of the stinkers last episode, a handful of pieces here feel too mean-spirited
or toothlessly edgy to register as anything more than acts of provocation.
Efforts like the junkie sketch merely feel like darkness for darkness' sake,
lacking the point of view to give it a chance of truly working. The junkie
sketch was so iffy that Jean had to fight to get it to air, almost costing
Jean her job... and for what? It's nimbly-performed, especially by Charles and
Joe, but it feels aimless, out to do its best O'Donoghue impression without
being able to hold a candle to the legitimate misanthropy of Mr. Mike.
(Denny's puppet sketch feels similarly feisty, but in a distinctly halting S6
way.) Meanwhile, Ann Risley's big Toni Tennille piece proves, rather
unfortunately, how ill-fitting she is for what the show demands of her. I
don't mind her in small doses but she's charmless in a role that necessitates
her to be a diva, and there's no worse omen for a sketch than casting someone
as a singer when they can't carry a tune for a second, let alone 20.
</p>
<p>
In the end, though, this episode will always be most notably remembered as
Eddie Murphy's proper SNL debut. He made a little cameo last week in the
"Negro Republican" sketch, so unremarkable that I didn't even write about it
at all... but to see this kid come on and effortlessly crush in the middle of
a ghastly installment of Weekend Update feels like a true turning point, a
moment where the narrative of the season can't be refuted: Eddie, in almost
exactly a minute, has become the show's immediate future. It'll be fun to see
him get more and more in the mix as the season progresses. In the moment,
though: not a bad episode, if also not a super good one. Stay for the Aretha
performances. <i>(Penned 12/22/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/13/80: Jamie Lee Curtis / James Brown, Ellen Shipley (S6 E04)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
There is precisely one reason why the Jamie Lee Curtis episode of S6 is the
only one of its season to ever get an encore screening several decades later:
James motherfuckin' Brown. He's a consummate show-stealer no matter how good
the night, blasting through the electrifying, disco-infused "Rapp Playback"
before getting into the main course of the evening: an eight-minute long
medley of some of his greatest hits punctuated by Brown's trademark howls,
shimmies, and mic spins, both raw and loose but immaculately choreographed
with not a single person missing the mark. What's not to love there? The son
of a bitch is pushing 60 and had <i>two cape swaps</i>. With the sheer force
of his magnetism, James Brown makes this episode required viewing... though
the downside of that is the fact that everything else is as tumultuous as S6
has trained me to expect. (I don't think there's any more damning display of
the quality disparity in this episode than going from James Brown's first
performance into the chilling silence of another Charles Rocket-helmed Weekend
Update... or going from that badger sketch into his medley.)
</p>
<p>
I'd like to think I'm an eternal optimist with SNL, and while S6 isn't taking
it out of me as much as many would suggest, it's still hard to sing praises of
something that could most politely be called mediocre. I'd go so far as to
say, though, that the greatest flaws with this season lay more in writing than
performance. It's not Charles' fault that his Update jokes are piss-poor, and
while one might be able to pinpoint his foot-stomping and mugging as
desperate, I don't know if I'd say it's any better to sit there and bomb jokes
as a sullen husk. Perhaps there's something to be suggested in certain cast
members' ability to break through the writing and will strength into the show
with their performance chops—and Gail's (and Denny's, to a slightly lesser
extent) routinely great work so far suggests that's a valid assessment—but
that also doesn't excuse that this episode, our big debut for Eddie Murphy in
the featured cast, finds the future star fighting through material that even
he can't make pop. (The best thing he gets to do here is eat dog food during
Update, a bit reliant enough on shock that his input does little to sway the
manufactured audience reaction.) Unable to cohere, S6 yet again has to be
looked at on a case-by-case basis rather than as the sum of its parts.
</p>
<p>
There are a few good pieces that deserve a mention, as usual. I actually quite
enjoyed "Dying to be Heard"; it's another characteristically dark S6 sketch,
taking the conceit of a show where female writers kill themselves on-air to
earn the right for their works to be broadcast, but I feel it's able to
thread the needle better than most. More than punching down on the notion of
the "tortured artist," it's a scathing take on the notion that such a status
is admirable and attainable, a point driven home by the legitimate nastiness
of the program's main applicant. I also didn't mind Gilbert's short film this
episode, even if it wasn't as memorable as Pepe Gonzalez; he brings a nice,
oddball energy to the show, and while the story of his arrival at SNL doesn't
fully gel, it's packed with some fun detail work (his family living in a
revolving door; his audition tape being in front of the security cam of a bank
he's sticking up). Lastly, although I never know how much to factor the "Short
Shorts" segment into the quality of these episodes since they're outsourced,
there's something to be said of this season's strong curation, and the stylish
"Hot Dogs for Gauguin" (featuring a young Danny DeVito!) is pretty darn
delightful.
</p>
<p>
On the other hand, not much else works. Jamie Lee Curtis gives everything her
all, but there's just not much for her to chew on in pieces like "The Attack
of the Terrible Snapping Creatures," a horror movie spoof about the terrors of
clothespins. Her second best shot is in the slice-of-life salon piece she
shares with Gail and Denny; it's simple but rooted in good characterizations,
even if it's not as memorable as Gail's sketch last episode. She toils
elsewhere playing less consequential roles in the dire badger and biker girl
sketches, though her charm helps take the edge off of both piece's intolerable
character work. The best thing I can say is that she does her best and seems
to inspire the show more than some of the season's previous hosts. I wish
there were more nice things to say here, but hey... at least we have James.
<i>(Penned 12/22/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">12/20/80: David Carradine / Linda Ronstadt, The Pirates of Penzance (S6
E05)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It's very difficult to form a proper opinion on the David Carradine episode of
SNL, let alone in regards to its status as the big Christmas special. There's
so many weird details that necessitate wild articulation, and to what end?
It's an episode that, no matter how much enjoyment you can ascertain from it,
is pretty transparently a lesser effort. Nothing spells out a shaky entry for
the show like having your host be piss-drunk and fumbling through every sketch
he appears in, and that's almost all you need to say about this episode.
Almost.
</p>
<p>
What that point dodges is that, for however little there is in this episode
that really connects... it is <i>kinda</i> fun in the drunken sloppiness.
There's definitely a spectrum with this kind of thing. Whereas a host like
Kristofferson in S1—tasked with anchoring an episode with versatile sketch
roles—becomes a deathly black hole of comedy, in an episode like David
Carradine's where there's almost nothing to gain from peak performance, you
kinda live for the weird eccentricities. Some of my biggest laughs of the
episode came less from the intent of the written material than Carradine's
strange sense of alternating conviction or indifference in all of his roles.
In that sense, Carradine is sort of a perfect host: when presented a dour
evening, why not get sloshed and see how that changes things?
</p>
<p>
The material itself is bereft of clear-cut winners, though they at least all
have moments, whether brought about by Carradine or others. Notably, this
feels like the first episode where Eddie can really go all off and assert his
sense of comic alchemy over the limp material he's presented, a strength made
obvious by that first <i>Kung Fu</i> menswear sketch. He's so smooth and
unfazed—the sort of foresight a performer has when they know they can score a
laugh—and the fact that he's able to find chemistry with the inebriated
Carradine across so many sketches tonight is nothing short of remarkable.
(They similarly shine in the low-key KFC sketch, a meandering piece that
merely works due to the rapport between them and Denny and some solid,
alcohol-influenced line reads.) Most everything else with Carradine finds him
either whiffing cues or incessantly asking for water, with the exception of
the pleasant enough Dylan/Guthrie piece (the sort of thing not engineered for
me but, y'know, passable).
</p>
<p>
The half of the night without Carradine's involvement is better, though still
never to any soaring heights; it at least feels more coherent. Gail gets
another Vickie piece, solid for what it is but perhaps the least memorable,
and Piscopo gets his first ranting spokesman piece, though it's sold more in
enthusiasm than concept. There's more fun in the deeply darker material. After
all, what better way to spice up disturbingly real-feeling domestic turmoil
than slapping some <i>Dallas</i> wigs on? Or what better place for haughty
white elites to get authentic cocaine than deep in the annals of Harlem? Both
are funny ideas willed into working by performance, as S6 sketches so often
are, but there's an extra bite to the detail that makes them pop just a bit
more.
</p>
<p>
Additionally, as a borderline ironic counterbalance to Carradine's
unpredictable performance ability, this episode offers the delights of an
immaculately-choreographed Pirates of Penzance performance! Whether or not
musicals are totally my thing, there's something undeniably joyful in the
tongue-twisting insanity of "Modern Major-General," or Linda Ronstadt's
pitch-perfect high notes, or that one police guy's floppy-ass arm work.
Carradine gives off some boozy charm, but Penzance injects some festive cheer
into the night where it's desperately needed. Happy holidays indeed,
everybody! <i>(Penned 12/26/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/10/81: Ray Sharkey / Jack Bruce & Friends (S6 E06)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Something that I feel is worth pointing out is that, having exited the first
five seasons—which were all carefully preserved and released on box sets in
the best quality possible—S6 has been a mixed bag of varying visual quality.
Some episodes are rare reruns from the Comedy Channel; one, Jamie Lee Curtis',
was a rerun from the mid-2000s. This Ray Sharkey episode, fascinatingly, is an
episode copy in the crunchiest resolution I've seen yet with pixels abound,
some lovely tape hiss, and some scenes so dark that you can barely make out
what's happening. A proper master is the best thing one could wish for with
these early episodes, but honestly... this is the second best. It's all the
grime of a particularly grimy episode compounded, a reminder that this is an
era that modern SNL would so often like to completely ignore or render
inaccessible to the masses.
</p>
<p>
And I think that's unfair, for the most part. This is not a great season of
the show, and even those with the hottest takes have to acknowledge the bad,
but it's a season tasked with an impossible task—to fill the shows the Lorne
Michaels era left behind—that's nevertheless trying. And funnily enough, while
this episode is rough around the edges, it's also an episode that feels rife
with invention and vigor; it's almost like Season 6 has accepted defeat and is
finally walking to the beat of its own drum, sometimes desperate (sorry,
Charles) but for the most part with a greater interest in just being what it
wants to be, shadows of the first five years be damned. In other words, this
was my favorite episode thus far.
</p>
<p>
Part of that is that this episode feels like the first in a while to really
lean on the natural energy of its host, and Ray Sharkey is nothing if not
fully invested in the night. And that's the sort of enthusiasm the show needs!
It makes a bad sketch better ("The Waiter-Maker") and a good sketch all the
greater (his strong murder confession piece with Gilbert). I mean, look at the
"Tommy Torture" sketch; there's almost nothing to it beyond its grimy
atmosphere, and it never manages to really utilize Vicky and Debbie in any
interesting ways that push the sketch along... but then Ray comes on-stage and
delivers a legitimate, compelling punk performance that saves the entire thing
and validates the grime; it becomes an authentic, loving piece of homage
rather than apathetic parody. No matter what a role requires of him—whether
being a stereotypical Italian caricature offering passionate translations to a
chaste WASP couple, or dressing up as an old lady and getting incapacitated by
a giant robot suit—he sells it, and he prevents any piece from fully bombing.
</p>
<p>
Apropos of Ray's presence, too, there's just something in the air here.
Sketches like the Carter sketch that suddenly devolves into a New Years-esque
celebration of January 11th feel somewhat confounding, for instance, but
they're instantly memorable and impossible to hate—the ending, with confetti
and streamers aflutter and party hats passed around the studio audience, feels
like a legitimate, goofy celebration. This is also an episode that, at long
last, has some really strong, darker material which, more than just hoping
edge constitutes for laughs, actually has fun playing in the darkness and
relishing its premises. The aforementioned "Stop-a-Nut" bit, as goofy as it
is, begins with Charles cheerfully asking, "Tired of seeing your loved ones'
precious bodies hacked into small pieces? Of course you are! Who isn't?"; the
"White Babies" sketch, filmed on the same park set, is even more delightfully
perverse, featuring Eddie (in the biggest night of his tenure) as a black
market dealer hocking splotchy, white babies that he proudly displays, resting
in a trash can, to an interested white couple. I especially enjoyed the
surrogate mothers sketch; while not without its flaws (Yvonne is wasted yet
again, this time with the further embarrassment of ending the sketch with a
line from <i>Gone with the Wind</i>), there's so much dark fun in Denny using
her pregnancy as a tool to get what she wants, threatening belly flops or drug
use as leverage for a cup of coffee or a pay raise. ("Lady, you know you're
boring me, and when I get bored, I take LSD" is the line of the episode for
sure.)
</p>
<p>
Rounding out the evening is a legendary moment in the show's history: with
time to kill, talent coordinator Neil Levy sent Eddie out to vamp with some of
his old stand-up before introducing the second musical performance. It's
perhaps more exceptional as a turning point than a standalone piece (though
certainly not without its laughs), but this was the moment that made Eddie,
someone who started with a speechless extra role only to slowly become an
integral player, into one of the biggest stars SNL has ever had. It'll be
interesting to see where the show goes from here as we dive into the turbulent
second half of the season—Eddie and Joe's continued ascent and Charles'
downfall, eventually culminating in a rash f-bomb that costs Jean and much of
the cast their jobs—but it feels like the season is poised to do good things.
I'm hoping to see it happen. <i>(Penned 12/27/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/17/81: Karen Black / Cheap Trick, Stanley Clarke Trio (S6 E07)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
I have found the mythology surrounding Season 6 to be, for the most part,
overly-cruel. There are a lot of valid criticisms and the lows are low, with
the first two episodes basically setting the season up to be scrutinized, but
that sort of generalization neglects the fact that the show is trying, and
frequently as of late, it rebounds from its failures. It gets knocked back but
it gets up and tries again, and every little victory is just another hint on
the right direction for the show to take. It's less of a "Charlie Brown trying
to kick the football" situation than conventional historians of the show would
like to let on for the sake of keeping SNL's complicated history simple.
Season 6 is deeply flawed, and it's impossible to overlook its many missteps,
but it's as capable of being compelling as you could hope, and it can be a
thing of beauty when everything hits just right. The Karen Black episode is a
demonstration of that, and it stands as an unequivocal triumph for the
troubled season.
</p>
<p>
No matter where SNL historians tend to fall with S6, there's unanimous praise
towards this evening, and it's easy to see why: it feels like the sort of
episode that this new school of cast and writers were assembled to produce.
The show might've been in a panic to prove itself, but it's decided to do so
not by recapturing the old spark of the original era or forming associations,
but by showing us <i>why these new cast members and writers can work</i>. Its
success lay in all of these different tones and voices coming together—be they
dark, or scathing, absolutely stupid or deeply affecting—all finely crafted
into an hour of deeply varied content that sprints across the gamut of
possibilities in the way only a sketch comedy show has the immaculate capacity
to do (however rarely we can actually see that reflected).
</p>
<div>
It's even more of a feat that this episode opens up direct comparison to the
original era, as Karen Black hosted in the second season surrounded by every
original cast member... and yet this one blows it out of the water. (Sure, it
was an off-energy night for that era, but the Doumanian era seems to be in a
perpetual state of off-energy nights.) A decent part of that has to do with
how Karen is fed into the show: she's a game host who digs into her
characters, and this episode actually gives her more compelling chances to
show off her chops. Such sketches as the Mona Lisa piece or the latest Jersey
Guy installment are legitimately solid on paper, but Karen dials into her
performances so much in each that they actually resonate rather than just
being amicable. She dodges the corniness of the former with her commitment and
some great chemistry with Charles, and keeps the latter from become grating by
matching Joe's ebullience, to wonderfully goofy effect.
</div>
<p>
This is also an episode where it feels like everyone got to bring something to
the table, a rare feat in a season that struggles to have even one identity
some of the time. Charles, so often wheeled to the front without the sort of
ability the show demands of him, integrates nicely into some truly winning
sketches tonight, most memorably his game show couple sketch with Gail. It's
the sort of idea that gets sold by its silliness and commitment in equal part,
wringing out detail upon detail until it reaches a perfect conclusion, kicking
their bewildered houseguests out before their arranged dinner due to Gilbert
and Denny's inability to guess the correct answer to a question about their
wine. He also gets to key into his best tendencies as a performer in both the
"Rocket Report"—the best iteration yet—and the "SNL Action Dolls" piece,
getting good mileage out of his capacity for manic energy.
</p>
<p>
Joe is also served quite well tonight; in addition to the aforementioned
Jersey Guy piece, he gets to debut his Sinatra and hold down a pretape all on
his own as Dan Rathers, prodding through the internal workings of CBS in light
of their lack of female journalists. It's one of the most delightfully
scathing pieces this season, funneling the edge that S6 is committed to into
something that's actually pointed. Lastly, though a small night for Eddie, he
does get to hold down a wonderful piece opposite of Yvonne as feuding
apartment neighbors—incredibly simple but hilarious stuff, and a look into the
possibilities SNL has at its disposal with two Black cast members (a luxury it
wouldn't have again until over a decade later).
</p>
<p>
The best sketch of the night, though—and what will go down as one of the
greatest of the season—is the hospital bed piece. It's stunning for a number
of reasons, most immediately the way in which it's framed: the camera
positions itself as the eyes of Morris Birnbaum, a stroke victim resting
powerless in his hospital bed, his disembodied voice (supplied by featured
player Matthew Laurance) echoing his inner thoughts about those who appear in
front of him. For the most part, it risks being another exercise in
mean-spirited humor from Season 6—Eddie, walking on as Morris' girlfriend,
apathetically refers to him as "about as alive as a baked potato" and leans
over his body like a table—but as it unfolds, it slowly becomes a deeply
tragic piece about his neglect as he consciously takes in every way in which
he's dehumanized while being powerless to stop it. (Karen, perfectly cast as
his scummy adult daughter, yells into his face and faux-pas that she 'nearly
had a stroke' on the way over as she flicks cigarette ash onto him.) It's
Denny's final walk-on as Rachel, Morris' long-time friend and the sole
recognizer of his condition, which is the most painful. She speaks to him
sorrowfully while recounting old memories, and she sings a song to him that he
duets in his mind; even though she asks him one question ("Why didn't you ask
me? Why was it Ruth you married?"), she knows he has nothing left to give and
she doesn't dare pry something from him.
</p>
<p>
It's a stunning piece that stands as proof that Season 6 was capable of great
things, and it's sad to think it would come to be in a time where the season
was, in the eyes of the public and NBC, past a point of no return, mere months
away from being completely retooled. Even if every other episode left in
Doumanian's run is absolute shit, Karen Black's episode will stand in the
show's history as a great "What if?" for an era that never was, and which
never got a chance to be otherwise. <i>(Penned 12/29/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">1/24/81: Robert Hays / Joe 'King' Carrasco & the Crowns, 14 Karat Soul
(S6 E08)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
And so, after the triumphant Karen Black episode, we return to reality with
another big ol' Season 6 stinker. This is a really tough outing for the show;
rather than maintaining the momentum we've built up over the past couple
episodes, the show completely crashes, and as this one progresses, it feels
like they're in a full-on spiral. What went wrong between this week and last?
It feels almost like the crushing reality that the strength of their last
episode did no favors to their reputation left the writers feeling more at a
loss than they ever have, and the result is a bizarre, passionless hodge-podge
where things come and go with nary a chance of a feeling to be felt.
</p>
<p>
Part of that is the fact that Robert Hays, our host, is as bland as they come.
I'll give the season some credit here: even if its hosts tend to be funneled
into flimsy premises, they've always been committed, either believing in the
struggling show or putting on a smile until the cameras go off. (Malcolm
McDowell got his green card, at least.) Hays comes out hot in his monologue,
but aside from the amusement of watching his bouncy '80s haircut, he's a bland
host who merely reads what he's provided. The inflatable doll sketch, for
instance, is fine, but as with everything else he's offered, the show can't
seem to channel his voice into something succinct. He comes across as someone
unable to inspire the show who ends up subsequently being buried in the
background, dredged up on the odd occasion as a reminder to the audience that
he's still in the building.
</p>
<p>
This episode is perhaps most hurt by how it's formatted, though. Not only are
its musical performances buried all the way at the end—our billed musical
guest, Joe 'King' Carrasco, is forced to work with an embarrassingly sedated
crowd as he Buckwheats through his performance—but the episode is composed of
twenty individual segments, as if clustering half-baked ideas would mask their
inelegance. It really feels like the episode is trying to play a statistical
game: if we run through this many premises, at least a few of them have to
land, right? But none do. A few sizzle a bit—Eddie is solid in the Atari
sketch, and there's some decent organ gags in the funeral sketch—but for the
most part the content borders on lukewarm at best and insufferable at worst.
This does make more room for both Matthew Laurance and Patrick Weathers to
participate at least, but neither are making a fan out of me, especially the
latter with that goddamn brownfaced Ravi Shankar routine. It's been almost
comical to see Eddie Murphy sandwiched between them (basically glorified
extras) in the featured players credits, which the show seemed to finally
recognize; the most notable thing here is that Eddie announces he's been
promoted to the main cast.
</p>
<p>
You may notice that, for as much as I've written, I've said almost nothing
about specific sketches. That's because none of them are worth anything. This
episode sucks! Let's just... move on. <i>(Penned 12/30/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: D.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/07/81: Sally Kellerman / Jimmy Cliff (S6 E09)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
While Doumanian's reign of the show has been working harder to free itself
from the vestiges of the original era (to both good and middling effect), one
of the framing mechanisms it's sought to keep are the little excerpts that
lead into commercial breaks, mostly irrelevant "Coming Up Next" bits and
audience captions. The latter is a silly idea in theory—why not put a clueless
audience member on the spot with a wacky caption and see how they respond?
It's the joy and spontaneity of being on live television! And usually, the
victims of this little studio prank double over in embarrassment, or laugh
along, maybe ham it up. But as the Sally Kellerman episode discovers, maybe
it's not the <i>best</i> idea to zoom into the audience in the middle of a
painfully ho-hum evening, because what we get a glance at here is perhaps the
most glassy-eyed, unentertained audience member they could've possibly chosen.
Never have I seen clapping that more explicitly states, "I am clapping because
the clap sign is on," and even as the person sitting next to her pats her on
the shoulder to let her know what's happening... she could not care
<i>less</i>. This woman was one of my favorite parts of the episode. "Wishes
she was a hostage," you say? I believe it.
</p>
<p>
This episode isn't the worst that the season has to offer, but there's little
to gain from it, either. Sparks of intrigue keep it from becoming truly
grueling, but that also just means you're left watching it and pondering the
potential that Season 6 is failing to tap. Truly novel things are
attempted—the "What's That Sin" game show sketch promises fast-paced
absurdity, the "Lean Farms" sketch has a meta breakdown where a heckling
audience member berates the core message of what's being performed—but
somehow, something keeps them from popping. Maybe it's the sluggish audience;
maybe it's the inability of the cast to lean into the audience. Maybe it's
that Sally Kellerman, as a host, radiates a very off-putting, haughty energy,
as if she's ready to embark to Harlem after the show to get some authentic
heroin. There's just something in the air that makes this show feel halting...
or maybe it's just everything.
</p>
<p>
For what it's worth, there's definitely a sort of uncomfortable nature to the
politics of the US surrounding this season, which I've generally neglected to
mention in my reviews. It's interesting to view Season 6 from a historical
perspective, even more so than the original era I'd argue, because of how
biting it is, or at least how biting it <i>wants</i> to be. SNL aims for
relevancy by being responsive to the world around it, and considering this
season is happening simultaneous to the Reagan administration, I'll give them
credit for taking some truly nasty swipes—moments like those crawl with
rebellious, counterculture energy. This episode actually has its eyes on the
aftermath of the Iranian hostage crisis, and I'd say it generally succeeds in
finding unique ways to approach it. The "A Day in the Life of a Hostage"
pretape takes a look at the tortured celebrity of a recently-freed hostage who
just wants to return to pedestrian life; it's not super funny, but it does an
excellent job at satirizing the media attention placed on these innocent
people who simply want to return to a normal life and finds particularly
haunting use of "Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree." The Iranian
student council sketch is a bit less pointed, paralleling the "let's just
watch the world burn" energy of "Commie Hunting Season," but it actually gets
over alright as well, for all of its denseness—there's something funny about
the college students who held the prisoners hostage now having to panic about
if they're gonna flunk their education. Neither are huge highlights, but they
speak to the times, and how people responded to them, in a compelling way. (I
forgive the audience's quietness during such stretches; it's hard to know how
to respond to those sorts of events, let alone laugh at comedy about them.)
</p>
<p>
Everything else is just kinda... eh?... with some exceptions. To nobody's
surprise, Eddie walks away with the hardest laughs of the episode in a brief
Update segment discussing how the fact that the Emancipation Proclamation
wasn't signed by Lincoln means that slavery is still legal, then offering some
helpful tips to white folks looking to wrangle up new property. Joe also
maintains his streak as a reliable player, presenting another silly SNL Sports
piece with the help of some fun Marc Weiner puppetry as well as submitting
fine comedic work in the otherwise underwritten "Parent & Child" piece.
Most surprisingly of all, after being generally shut out of last episode,
Gilbert is on fire tonight and acquits himself finely to three fairly
enjoyable pieces (barring the aforementioned "Parent & Child") as a
hyper-Italian stand-up comic, the wacky defendant in a trial-turned-talk-show,
and best of all, as a sullen husband defending his love of his pillow pets to
his neglected wife. ("I thought any man who could show that much love for
[pillow pets] would have a lot of love to give me." "Oh, you were wrong.")
Ignoring the smug, treacly musical number from Kellerman, that pillow pets
sketch is the right note to end the episode on—we're still trying, but it's a
bit more melancholy than before. <i>(Penned 12/30/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/14/81: Deborah Harry / Funky 4 + 1 More (S6 E10)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
Deborah Harry is pretty cool, right? Blondie! That's kind of all I knew about
her, actually! (I don't know a lot.) But something I learned recently, and
pleasantly, was that she played a pivotal role in introducing hip-hop music to
the mainstream audience of the '80s, not just with her single "Rapture" being
the first rap video featured on MTV but with her bringing Funky 4 + 1 More to
SNL for her hosting stint, making them the first rap group to be broadcast on
television. It's a groundbreaking moment, even if it's a bit hard to have your
world rocked by it in present times, and it's a welcome bit of history tucked
at the end of a decent enough S6 episode.
</p>
<p>
Fortunately, Deborah doesn't have to fight too hard to win cred with me after
that fact, not that she's a bad host. She only really serves as a detriment to
one piece—the "Big Brother" sketch, where she seemingly gets lost in the cue
cards and generally overacts—though considering it's one of my favorites as
written of the night (and perhaps the season) that stiffness feels more
unfortunate. (Gilbert at least shines in his portrayal of Big Brother
awkwardly trying to ask her prole character out, and I found the staging very
unique.) Deborah works best slotted into more naturalistic scenes, so it's
fortunate that she's graced with some solid ones. The latest Vickie sketch is
solid observational stuff from Gail as usual, but the most interesting piece
of the evening is the SoHo piece, casting Gail and Deborah as two young
lesbians who get a sudden, surprise visit from her aunt and uncle: the
Waxmans. It's a shockingly progressive piece for the era, a fact made obvious
by the audience awkwardly laughing at the two of them exchanging "I love
yous," and truth be told, I spent a lot of it wincing in fear that the premise
would collapse into homophobia... but it doesn't. Instead, it feels very
sincere and thoughtful as Deborah delicately tries to implicate their
relationship to Denny's Pinkie character, and when she succeeds, Pinkie's
stunned moment of realization is followed by a toast in their name—a subtle
but sweet nod of approval.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the night is sort of Season 6 as usual, though with some lighter
sensibilities that work in its favor. Jersey Guy returns, this time meeting
his ultimate match—Deborah as a fellow Jerseyite! Not only is it packed with
as many quietly strong lines as these pieces tend to be, with the two bonding
over their chemical plants' radiation scares, but it's a great display of Joe
and Deborah's natural chemistry. They play off of each other perfectly here
(Deborah does her best work of the night), and the later "King Kong" sketch,
with all of its gloriously juvenile thinness, gets over just as well. In terms
of the hostless material, things are a mixed bag, but the show keeps moving
along pretty briskly at least; the biggest crime is just Eddie being wasted on
a weak runner.
</p>
<p>
Perhaps the most contentious part of the episode is the infamous "Where's
Cooter?" sketch, but fuck me, I liked it! It's truly indefensible and I can
see the argument made that it's basically just a prolonged improv exercise
reenacted on-stage, but its self-aware, repetitious nature really tickles me
before the kicker even comes in to close the story. There's a sort of "fuck
you, we're doing this" energy which feels not just laudable in this troubled
season, but kinda thrilling—damn the audience, they're just blithely
committed! It's the exact right kind of energy for Season 6 to be tapping into
right now, and judging by the fact that this is a pretty carefree episode, it
feels like such a shame that next episode will seal its fate as an aborted,
disastrous experiment. I'll enjoy it while it lasts. <i>(Penned 12/31/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">2/21/81: Charlene Tilton / Todd Rundgren, Prince (S6 E11)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
In the goodnights of the Charlene Tilton episode, everyone is gathered around
Charles Rocket. The past episode has cast him as the center of a vicious love
triangle amongst host and cast—in reference to Charlene's show,
<i>Dallas</i>—culminating in him being shot by an unknown assailant. He now
sits in a wheelchair, a cigarette in his mouth. "Charlie, how are you feeling
after you've been shot?" Charlene asks. "I dunno man, it's the first time I've
ever been shot in my life," Charles responds, "I'd like to know who the fuck
did it." Shock rolls from face to face: Charlene squeals so loud her audio
clips, Eddie's eyes bulge, and Matthew Laurance bursts out laughing. Charles
just sits back smugly, taking an imaginary puff from his cigarette. It's
official, everybody: we've hit the point of no return.
</p>
<p>
It's the ultimate, cathartic moment to weasel its way out of this nightmarish
season. The cast has soldiered against audiences and critics who hated their
guts, even in spite of their occasional successes, and the inept guidance of
Jean Doumanian has done little to protect them. Charles, touted as the next
Chevy Chase, has had to go out every single episode on Weekend Update and bomb
week after week as he pitifully mugs and stomps the ground in hopes of
strangling even a wheeze from the audience. How does it feel to be the face of
a show that everyone despises? How does it feel, despite how heavily you've
been groomed, to see that you're being surpassed more and more with every
single episode by someone else? It's the tragic end to a man who was set up to
fail... and sufficed to say, Charles' stunt far outlives the impact of almost
anything here (let alone the season, or sadly, his career).
</p>
<p>
That's because, barring that bombshell of a moment, the Charlene Tilton
episode feels prototypical of Season 6, mostly vanishing from memory as
quickly as it plays out. Sure, there are some legitimately unusual things that
this episode attempts, such as the climactic puppet boxing match between Rocko
Weineretto and Weindulah and the <i>Dallas</i> runner, but it's sort of
shocking how little impact they leave after the moment's passed. I'll actually
be kinder to the former than most; it's hard not to be entertained, in my
opinion, by impeccable puppetry, and while the presentation is a bit staid
(Don King is there, I guess?), it's a fine art to do puppetry so well that we
threaten to forget how it's being performed. "Who Shot C.R.?", on the other
hand, is perhaps most interesting as a curiosity, and only because we know the
shockwaves it'll create in the goodnights. On their own, the segments feel
very limply-written, however enlivened by Gilbert's iconic, sour expression.
(I like how the final part of the runner concludes, at least, with Charles
getting sniped mid-sketch and everyone rushing out to him in shockingly
well-acted terror.)
</p>
<p>
The rest of the material tends to alternate between truly dire and failing to
seize upon its high potential, the two classic modes for an S6 sketch to
inevitably fall into. The pork parade sketch is utter nonsense, the sort of
idea that should have <i>something</i> in its specificity yet emerges
completely empty-handed, while the "Women Behind Bars" sketch has a funny idea
at its center—forcing Charlene's new fish into giving a debate about the
Industrial Revolution's effect on education—but spends too much time
incubating that the reveal goes out with a whimper. The Nancy Reagan sketch
feels the closest to working, with Gail's Nancy relishing her
daughter-in-law's nightmarish stay in the haunted Lincoln's bedroom, but
something renders it sluggish, too; maybe the timing isn't quite right, or
maybe it expects too much of Ann, who's tasked with putting it over.
</p>
<p>
On the plus side, though, this episode has a very obvious highlight: the debut
of "Mr. Robinson's Neighborhood!" It's sort of bizarre to see the first of
these legendary sketches in its infancy; for however much it resembles all of
the iterations that follow, there are a few odd kinks here that make it feel
rawer, and that honestly plays to the sketch's benefit. These are
<i>seedy</i> sketches, and they relish in that as much as they relish in the
inherent charm that Eddie possesses (his smiley delivery of "Can you say
bitch?" is fucking <i>perfect</i>), and the result is a beautiful blend of
concept and performance—two things we seldom see working alongside each other
this season. We also get to go out, after a dry spell, with one final, strong
Rocket Report, with Charles taking Charlene on an authentic New York subway
ride. It's a reminder, in this episode that ordained him with the perpetual
curse of dropping an f-bomb on SNL, that Charles could be great on the show
when he was used properly; his interactions with random passersby are as silly
and charismatic as they are a portrait of '80s New York City.
</p>
<p>
Unfortunately, not even an absolutely badass performance from new talent
Prince can help divert this one from the legacy it ultimately left behind. The
casual fan who merely sees this as the big f-bomb episode, for once, is barely
missing a thing. <i>(Penned 1/03/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">3/07/81: Bill Murray / Delbert McClinton (S6 E12)</b>
</p>
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</div>
<p>
It feels like an extreme fortune for the cast that Bill Murray was scheduled
to host two weeks after Charlene Tilton. In any other universe, that would be
the end of the road, and there's a strong sense that the only reason Jean
wasn't immediately discharged, or the likes of Charles fired, was because Bill
was right around the corner. To executives, it's a fair enough grab to warrant
one last go, and the return of a heralded comedy icon to his old stomping
grounds; to the cast and writers, meanwhile, it's a last-ditch effort to
salvage their careers. It's the most perfect opportunity that could befall
Season 6, even if that outcome still yields the immediate termination of the
Jean Doumanian era, and it also prompts one of the most perfect cold open
opportunities SNL has ever had, sending the cast into Bill's dressing room as
he uplifts them with a spoof of his <i>Meatballs</i> speech and the victorious
chant of, "It just doesn't matter!" Whereas the cold open that commenced this
season sought to brazenly exorcise the ghost of their predecessors, this cold
open feels like a humbled admission that they played their cards all wrong.
But it doesn't feel grim, or melancholy, nor does this episode,
miraculously—instead, the episode is a bittersweet demonstration of the season
that could've been.
</p>
<p>
If it isn't the best episode of Season 6 (an honor that remains with Karen
Black), it's one of the most rejuvenated, perhaps because it feels like almost
everyone is fighting more than they've ever fought to meet the expectations of
their host. There's a sense of ambition here across the board, stuffing the
night with things ranging from a devoted character piece (the Jersey Guy
pretape), to a ten minute-long epic sketch ("Altered Walter"), to very low-key
slice-of-life material ("Bubba's Wash, Fayetta's Dry"). It's as if this
episode is doing its best imitation of the original era with its breadth, but
it never comes across as manufactured so much as dialed-in, and through it
all, the cast doesn't miss a beat. That's evident in the best piece of the
night, and one of the best of the season, "Script in Development," casting
Bill as an indecisive author who struggles to lay out the scene being acted
out by the cast behind him. It's brilliantly-executed and chock full of
delightful details, but most of all, it stands as a testament to just how
strong and in-sync the cast could be as an ensemble when they were given good
material. The second half of the sketch, devolving into Bill quickly
re-reading his convoluted story up to that point at least three times as fast,
is an exercise in truly masterful physical comedy for everyone involved
(Charles, Ann, Denny, and Matthew Laurance, having a shockingly involved
night).
</p>
<p>
That sketch, notably, also feels concurrent with the strange pattern of this
episode to keep Bill a bit segregated from the cast. It's unfortunately rather
difficult to assess Bill's chemistry with most of the them, or indeed, his
eagerness to be here, and while that's not to say he submits poor work,
there's a slight lack of warmth. He's an aloof professional who checks every
box that he has to, but he doesn't come across as a member of the ensemble so
much as the night's anchor. That's fair enough, I suppose—pieces like the new
Nick the Lounge Singer installment are by and large carried by his
charisma—though it does leave you yearning a bit. The rare opportunities where
he and the cast are on the same level, at least, always register: his
monologue with Eddie is good fun, and he acquits himself perfectly to "Bubba's
Wash, Fayetta's Dry," opposite of Denny as a divorced couple forced to share
ownership of a laundromat. The latter sketch is probably the most effortful
work from him all night, and the most it feels like he's really on the same
level as the people he's performing with—the ending, with him playfully
chasing Denny around and jumping at her as the camera panned out, was
legitimately heartwarming.
</p>
<p>
At the very least, too, even if Bill seems reserved, he doesn't miss a beat.
The most worrisome sketch of the night, the epic "Altered Walter" sketch,
threatens to overstay its welcome with its excessively timely concept (an
<i>Altered States</i> parody about Walter Cronkite's recent retirement from
CBS), but the surrealism of the piece combined with Bill's performance chops
allows it to go down easy and even score some serious laughs. (It ends,
bizarrely and beautifully, with Walter announcing that "the news you make is
equal to the news you take," before transcending the boundaries of time and
space and turning into a test pattern.) He similarly allows the wobbly cat
name sketch to go for the jugular; while Matthew Laurance's jovial performance
as an enthusiastic cat owner grounds things, Bill's desperation slowly
morphing into shameless screaming over the phone as he begs for the cat's name
is a perfect crescendo.
</p>
<p>
Perhaps, though, the cast's frequent relegation to the background, apropos of
the great work they individually achieve, further spelled out their
unfortunate fate: it just didn't matter. It would be the last episode for
Charles, Ann, Gilbert, and the featured cast, though Yvonne would make
sporadic appearances in the years to come before vanishing completely; Jean
Doumanian was ripped from her position, along with most of the season's
writers, and replaced by Dick Ebersol, NBC's head of sports programming. Over
the next month, he'd work diligently to completely reinvent the cast, pulling
in Second City alum like Robin Duke, Tim Kazurinsky, and Tony Rosato,
alongside Laurie Metcalf and Michael O'Donoghue's protégé, Emily Prager.
They'd join the remaining cast of the Doumanian era—Eddie, Joe, Gail, and
Denny—for one episode, before a writer's strike aborted the remaining season.
The Bill Murray episode is just half of the story to Season 6's bizarre end,
ultimately, but it's the sweeter half, and the tragic end of a timeline that
deserved much better. Oh, what could have been... <i>(Penned 1/13/22)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A-.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">4/11/81: (no host) / Jr. Walker & the All-Stars (S6 E13)</b>
</p>
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<p>
And so, after the past season of ups and downs, controversy, bad press, and
injustices, we arrive at one of the most puzzling season finales the show has
ever had. It's the end of an era, and the start of a new one all at once,
joining some leftovers from the Doumanian years with Ebersol's new talent in
an episode that largely feels like the passing of the torch. It's a strange
sensation, though, and not one strictly by design: while this episode would be
the end of the road for Gail and Denny (as well as the generally-absent
featured players Dick hired), that's only because an ongoing writer's strike
axed Season 6 before it could properly conclude. That's a huge shame, really,
and we can only imagine how much difference the rest of this theoretical
season would've made. It's not just because of the litany of spectacular hosts
that we never got to see (another Buck Henry or Steve Martin episode! Dan
Aykroyd hosting in his prime!)—there's definitely a sense of an alternate SNL
history that could've led the show down a very different path. What if Gail
and Denny got to continue honing their craft and eventually grow into reliable
players through the Ebersol era? What if <i>Emily Prager</i> did? They're
questions which, sadly, will never be answered.
</p>
<p>
What we get, instead, is a strangely cobbled-together night of half-ideas,
trunk pieces, and dusted-off, rejected Michael O'Donoghue sketches, all led by
a predominantly new cast. The writer's strike has already begun by the time
this episode is airing, making it feel almost miraculous that it worked out at
all, but the difficulty of getting this episode over is all too easily felt.
It's crafty, front-loading with some assured and theoretically-winning bits
(Joe's Sinatra, Eddie's Bill Cosby) while bringing in treasured SNL alum to
helm things in the background (Chevy Chase and Al Franken), but the results
are pretty mixed all the same. That Sinatra sketch, "Drive for America," just
becomes an exercise in confused jingoism—do we laugh at the tedious "jap"
slams because they're politically-incorrect, or because that's how America
really feels?—while Eddie's piece, casting him as Cosby advertising beer to
kids, comes across queasy at worst in light of Cosby's allegations, and airy
at best. You can trust Eddie to wring laughs out of anything, but it always
plays to the show's favor to strive for more. (The other two Doumanian
hold-overs, Gail and Denny, are stuck in isolated, unsuccessful pieces: Gail's
"Fame" parody is an ostensive showcase piece that cast her out of her depth,
while Denny's melancholy "Bag Lady" film trips over itself with some
confounding voiceover edits.)
</p>
<p>
The old ringers don't do much for me either, though that might just be
personal; I was more than happy to exit the era of Chevy and Franken. The
former is as the former has always been, with all the good and bad attached.
Chevy helms possibly the longest Weekend Update yet, all comprised of the
sauciest jokes Mr. Mike couldn't get on earlier shows, and aside from a few
touches ("The writer's strike continues," he bemoans, after a joke bombs), it
was... an appointment in the soul-sucking, monochrome hell that is your
umpteenth Chevy Chase Update. And when you're trapped there, a commentary from
Al Franken at his cockiest hardly feels like a reprieve. It's as theoretically
interesting as his great "Limo for a Lame-o" piece, and this one makes for a
nice bookend to the entire saga of Season 6—a mess <i>he</i> got everyone
into, in large part—but his snipes feel too labored and self-glorifying to
fully land. It ends up making this episode feel less like a full attempt to
christen the new SNL so much as a retroactive apology for trying something
different the past twelve episodes.
</p>
<p>
The majority of the appeal I could find in this episode, honestly, falls upon
the new cast that gets featured. They're the biggest takeaway for me;
I've been curious about the Ebersol additions for a while now, and seeing them
in action for the first time, I'm super excited to see what they bring to the
next few seasons! Robin Duke is unfortunately a bit sidelined, but Tim
Kazurinsky and Tony Rosato walk away with the funniest and most promising
pieces of the group. Tim's "I Married a Monkey" is a simultaneous display of
the delightful insanity of having monkeys as scene partners and his knack for
quick-witted improvisation, while Tony's Italian father sketch, despite the
extensive length—it's a trunk piece in the middle of a writer's strike, I get
it—was a burst of energy with some broad but fun character work and physical
comedy. (The gesture fight between him and Tim was one of my favorite moments
of the night.)
</p>
<p>
All of that being said... this is a strange episode to consider as a whole.
The circumstances surrounding this episode are truly fascinating, and they
position it to be one of the most unique episodes in the history of the
show... and yet the content itself is tumultuous, to say the least. It's an
ignoble end for Season 6, but to put things plainly and succinctly: it is what
it is. Onwards, to greener pastures! <i>(Penned 1/17/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<b style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;">Cumulative Season Rankings:<br /></b>
</p>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>1.</b> Karen Black / Cheap Trick, Stanley Clarke Trio (A)<br /><b>2. </b>Bill Murray / Delbert McClinton (A-)<br /><b>3.</b> Ray Sharkey / Jack
Bruce & Friends (B)<br /><b>4.</b> Deborah Harry / Funky 4 + 1 More
(B-)<br /><b>5.</b> Ellen Burstyn / Aretha Franklin, Keith Sykes
(C+)<br /><b>6.</b> (no host) / Jr. Walker & the All-Stars (C)<br /><b>7.</b> Jamie Lee Curtis / James Brown, Ellen Shipley (C)<br /><b>8.</b> David Carradine / Linda Ronstadt, The Pirates of Penzance
(C)<br /><b>9.</b> Elliott Gould / Kid Creole & the Coconuts (C)<br /><b>10.</b> Charlene Tilton / Todd Rundgren, Prince (C-)<br /><b>11.</b> Sally Kellerman / Jimmy Cliff (C-)<br /><b>12.</b> Robert Hays /
Joe "King" Carrasco & The Crowns, 14 Karat Soul (D)<br /><b>13.</b> Malcolm McDowell (D)</span>
</div>
<p></p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE SKETCHES:<br />10.</b> "Pillow Pets" (S6E09 / Sally
Kellerman)<br /><b>9.</b> "I Married A Monkey" (S6E13 / hostless)<br /><b>8.</b> "Lonely Old Lady" (S6E03 / Ellen Burstyn)<br /><b>7.</b> "60
Minutes" (S6E07 / Karen Black)<br /><b>6.</b> "Apartment Building" (S6E07
/ Karen Black) <br /><b>5.</b> "Bubba's Wash Fayetta's Dry" (S6E12 /
Bill Murray)<br /><b>4.</b> "Livelys" (S6E07 / Karen Black)<br /><b>3.</b> "Mister Robinson's Neighborhood" (S6E11 / Charlene Tilton)<br /><b>2.</b> "Script in Development" (S6E12 / Bill Murray)<br /><b>1.</b> "Hospital Bed" (S6E07 / Karen Black)
</p>
<p>
<b>Other great sketches:</b> "Pepe Gonzalez" and "Planned Parenthood"
(S6E03 / Ellen Burstyn); "Dying To Be Heard" (S6E04 / Jamie Lee Curtis); "The
Home Version of Dallas" and "Heroin in Harlem" (S6E05 / David Carradine);
"White Babies," "Surrogate Mothers," and "Stop-a-Nut" (S6E06 / Ray Sharkey);
"Big Brother" and "SoHo" (S6E10 / Deborah Harry); "Dressing Room Cold Open"
(S6E12 / Bill Murray).
</p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE MUSICAL PERFORMANCES:<br />10.</b> Jack Bruce & Friends
(S6E05 / Ray Sharkey)<br /><b>9.</b> Kid Creole & the Coconuts (S6E01
/ Elliott Gould)<br /><b>8.</b> Jr. Walker & the All-Stars (S6E13 /
no host)<br /><b>7.</b> Cheap Trick (S6E07 / Karen Black)<br /><b>6.</b> Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band (S6E02 / Malcolm McDowell)<br /><b>5.</b> Linda Ronstadt, The Pirates of Penzance (S6E05 / David Carradine)<br /><b>4.</b> Aretha Franklin (S6E03 / Ellen Burstyn)<br /><b>3.</b> Stanley
Clarke Trio (S6E07 / Karen Black)<br /><b>2.</b> Prince (S6E11 / Charlene
Tilton)<br /><b>1.</b> James Brown (S6E04 / Jamie Lee Curtis)
</p>
<p><b>SEASON GRADE AVERAGE: C.</b></p>
<p>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">Follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>!</i>
</p>
<p></p>
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<p></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arimo;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 1</a><span style="font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 2</a><span style="font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-reviewed-and-ranked.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 3</a><br style="font-style: normal;" /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/09/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 4</a><span style="font-style: normal;"> | </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/12/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 5</a></span><br style="font-style: normal;" /><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>Season 6</b> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/03/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 7</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 8</a><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 9</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 10</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 11</a><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 12</a></span></i></p>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-86757881027555911022022-01-03T01:35:00.004-06:002022-01-03T01:35:38.763-06:00Summer Camp Island Review: A Barb is Born / Hot Milk and Careless Whispers / Nightcap (Barb and the Spotted Bears Chapters 1-3)<p></p>
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<span style='font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;'
><b
><i
><span style="font-size: x-large;"
>"I was born with the confidence of a thousand bears, but the
wherewithal of a thousand blueberries."</span
></i
></b
></span
>
</div>
<div
style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;"
>
<br />
</div>
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>
<span face='"arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif'>--</span>
</div>
<p>
Welcome back, everybody! Today, I commence my coverage of
<i>Summer Camp Island's</i> fifth season, starting with Barb's three-episode
arc! As a bit of minor preamble, when the fifth season was announced, I was a
bit shocked not just to see the show returning to its arc formatting from
Season 3, but to feature Barb as the protagonist in its inaugural arc. It's
true that she's a well-established member of the show's cast and one whose
past hasn't been etched out prior, and if there's one thing I can say about
<i>SCI</i>, it's that it'll never back down from the search for new and
unexpected horizons... and yet, I was a bit skeptical of how it would shake
out. Let's see how I ultimately felt about the way this season kicks off!
</p>
<p></p>
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<b>"A Barb is Born":</b> And so, on the third day of life on planet Earth,
Barb comes into existence. It's always a bit difficult for me to talk about
these arc-starting episodes; they're an exercise in setting the stakes, as much
about establishing their focal character as they are establishing the
environment we'll explore. In this case, <i>SCI</i> cranks the clock back the
furthest its ever been, exploring the island before it became a summer camp, or
a witch destination, or even somewhere with the threat of inhabitation—it is
merely a primordial landscape, bursting with talking ferns and miscellaneous
vegetation, and on the second day, bears intent to eat them. <span
><a name='more'></a></span
>
<div>
<br /> Naturally, in the most on-brand way possible, Barb bursts into the
scene already at the ripe age of 60, fully-formed in every way but knowing her
purpose. The revelation of her lifelong duties are the ultimate end goal of
this episode, and the narrative is all about the misdirection she
endures—touted as a savior to the ferns—as she hones in on that conclusion.
Curiously, she's born with a quiver of arrows, which seems to point her in the
direction of being a hunter, but Barb is a penchant nonconformist. She thinks
outside of the box; she's unorthodox. Her pointy feathers are less an
instrument of torture than one of endless possibility, or as she says herself:
"Rather than arm, I repurposed [them] to disarm!"
<p></p>
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Unfortunately, while she works out the kinks on her purpose, she fails at the
task she is given by the ferns and wounds up being ostracized by the island to
the top of the mountain. As she converses with Olf, though, an
equally-alienated fern at the mountain's peak, she realizes that she doesn't
have to exist to fulfill others' expectations—she's an unexpected creature,
the likes of which the planet has never known before. She thus deems it her
purpose to come up with other things that have never existed before, either.
She's a "newer," and we'll see her take her first steps down this path in the
episodes that follow. As it stands, "A Barb is Born" is enjoyable and
thoughtful set-up, if not earth-shattering.
<p></p>
<p>
<b>"Hot Milk and Careless Whispers": </b>If "A Barb is Born" is
preamble, then "Hot Milk and Careless Whispers" is a hearty serving of meat
and potatoes. This is Barb's baptism by fire: she knows what her life
mission is, and now it's a matter of acting upon it with the situation
at-hand. While the way the ferns attempted to use her to fight the bears
failed, this is a look at how Barb can tackle a situation by playing on her
own terms. In other words, contrasted against the first episode, it's a
demonstration of what makes Barb's worldview so unique and essential.<br />
</p>
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You can't fight the bears, as the ferns coaxed Barb to do; you have to
accommodate for them and acknowledge their needs. Fortunately, she seems to
know the exact solution, too. The bears know they're clumsy, or sad, or are
eating ferns to fill the empty hours, but what they don't know is that they
are tired, and their exhaustion is a catalyst for their behavior. With that,
Barb invents the concept of sleep, and spends the episode cracking down on all
of the grumpy bears' differing sleep needs. (Inevitably, too, when it's too
much for her lone self to manage, she consults the mysterious jelly pool and
pulls three new helper elves out of it—a clever way to expand our slim current
cast.)
<p></p>
<p>
The plot of "Hot Milk" also becomes an excellent showcase for a sneaky,
specific little thing that I've always loved within SCI: how it finds a way
to put probing, silly spins on the banal with carefully-crafted turns of
phrase. With sleep being a new concept in the universe of the show, we're
treated to it being described in ways ranging from "worrying in the dark" to
"like being lowered into a bottomless well." ("Geez, Barb!") The
introductions of all the elves Barb pulls out of the jelly pool offer a
similar charm in their specificity ("I got this giant hammer, and I think
brushing teeth is a <i>scam</i>."). This is ultimately a very small
part of the overall episode to highlight, but it's something I've always
found immensely gratifying about the show's writing style that deserves to
be highlighted as just one of the many components that make it feel so
idiosyncratic.
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
It's also one of the little things that makes "Hot Milk" feel like a step-up
from "A Barb is Born," helping to orient the arc into a better overall
direction. Something worth noting about the way each of these episodes bleeds
into the next, though—"Hot Milk" ends with the ominous, no-context arrival of
a sheep and zebra—is that it makes every episode of this arc feel less like an
explicit gain so much as a piece in the overall puzzle. Each episode exists to
build off of the last, keeping the narrative in a state of ongoing progression
whereas I think it could afford to take a bit of solace to make the victories
feel that much more victorious. It's a minor complaint, though, and
considering <i>SCI</i> is still a greatly episodic show, perhaps it's a clever
way to make things feel a bit more overarching.
<p></p>
<p>
<b>"Nightcap":</b> We don't know a lot about the jelly pool at the top
of the mountain. Last episode, we saw Barb use it to create other elves to
assist in her mission, and now, in "Nightcap," we get the sense that it
contains something truly powerful... but that sense of power doesn't really
get further defined. It's an interesting strategy within "Nightcap's"
narrative which I struggle to perceive as a clear-cut strength or
weakness—things just arbitrarily as they are, without clear justification. I
think the potency of that gray area ultimately yields both some good and
some bad.
</p>
<p></p>
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Perhaps most confoundingly with the narrative, we're further acquainted with
the mysterious sheep and zebra who appeared at the end of last episode. Sheep
and Zebra (as I will now refer to them as, for hopefully self-evident reasons)
are clearly bad characters, but they're also characters with limited
definition. We know that they want access to the jelly pool's riches to
harness evil powers—thus kickstarting the fun narrative of Barb arranging
decoy pools with the other elves—but we don't really know who they are and
what their deal is. The potential they have as a threat, too, feels hurt by
how much they're rendered as buffoons, bumbling and bickering from decoy pool
to decoy pool.
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
I can't help but feel like that's an iffy choice. They're clearly supposed to
be interpreted as an antagonistic force, and indeed, when we get to their
climactic altercation with Barb, there is finally a sense of them having
legitimate powers: they rip what Barb doth desire most clean out of her body
and absorb it into theirs. It just feels like it plays to their detriment that
it's so tough to see them as anything more than morons with the way "Nightcap"
primes us to understand them. At the very least, this enables the shine to
remain fixated on Barb; her cleverly cursing them with debilitating
sleepiness, albeit while depriving her of being able to sleep ever again, is a
wonderfully clever moment.<br />
<p></p>
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</div>
The question of what the jelly pool really does, though, remains nebulous to
the very end, when it suddenly solidifies into a giant, magical gemstone
(seemingly by the Moon); with that, these episodes spontaneously become as
much an origin story for Barb as for one of the island's most iconic features.
But we're still only left to really hypothesize about its significance, let
alone Barb's significance in protecting it. (She seems to have guarded it just
long enough for the Moon to crystallize it, an action that feels detached in
all ways but chronologically.) Nevertheless... it kind of works. There are
some secrets to the Island which deserve to retain that air of mystery. Even
if the point of these arcs is to, in theory, paint the elaborate past of these
characters and their histories, <i>SCI</i> makes a deliberate effort to leave
some things open to interpretation. While there are sometimes things I wish
the show spent more time specifically examining, it's difficult to truly
complain about the show's passion for the unobserved. This is an odd arc, in
the end, but a pleasing one.
<p></p>
<p>
<b
>FINAL GRADES:<br />"A Barb is Born": B.<br />"Hot Milk and Careless
Whispers": B+.<br />"Nightcap": B.</b
>
</p>
<p></p>
<p>
<i
>For my last reviews of "Hark the Gerald Sings," "Hall of Mooms," and
"Pepper and the Fog,"
<a
href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/12/summer-camp-island-reviews-hark-gerald.html"
>CLICK HERE</a
>.</i
>
</p>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i style="font-family: Arimo;"
>If you like my stuff, be sure to follow me on Twitter <a
href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode"
style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;"
>@Matt_a_la_mode</a
>.</i
>
</div>
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<p></p>
</div>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-79402894013991740172021-12-08T17:16:00.002-06:002022-01-02T19:45:35.428-06:00Summer Camp Island Review: Hark the Gerald Sings / Hall of Mooms / Pepper and the Fog<p></p>
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<p></p>
<div><br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Bup, bup, bup. Susie, can I read you a poem I wrote for you?"</span></i></b></span>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;">
<br />
</div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">--</span>
</div>
<p>
Hey, so it's been a minute since I last wrote about <i>Summer Camp Island</i>,
or a lot of other shows for that matter. I've been busy with a lot of
endeavors, and sadly, a lot of the shows got pushed to the wayside because of
it. With Season 5 of <i>SCI</i> coming tomorrow, though, my completionist
brain decided that it would be worth it to at least blast through a couple
mini-reviews in preparation! Plus, if this is well-received, I might try to
embrace this sort of writing style more—it definitely takes a lot less out of
me to write more nonchalantly.
</p>
<p>
With that out of the way: let's take a look at the last three episodes of
Season 4!<span></span></p><a name='more'></a>
<p></p>
<p></p>
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</div>
<b>"Hark the Gerald Sings":</b> We've been getting a lot of Oscar
exploration these past few seasons, with this current one feeling like it's
approaching the point of a fevered pitch. Heck, the fact that this is the second
episode in this season alone to place specific aim on Oscar's anxieties
(following up on the great
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/08/summer-camp-island-review-oscar-his.html">"Oscar & His Demon"</a>) makes it feel even more disproportionate. But it's easy to see why Oscar has
become such a target of <i>SCI's</i> writing: he embodies the show's naivete,
and he's at the heart of its childlike sense of spirit, which just so happens to
mean that he'll often be a target of the sort of ideas that the <i>SCI</i> likes
to explore.
<p></p>
<p>
To "Gerald's" credit, too, it does a lot to differentiate itself from how "His
Demon" presents itself, taking a more traditional route with very direct
interpretation. Whereas "His Demon" is strongly internalized, stripped of
dialogue so that we can focus on how Oscar interacts with the world
organically and sans dialogue, "Gerald" allows his anxieties to more
explicitly manifest and be patiently interacted with. This episode also gets a
nice boost from Hedgehog's involvement, helping her bestie brave the storm
when his breakfast superstitions threaten to overtake his well-being. (I do
think there could've been more done about how the superstition transfers over
to her, which the episode seems to gloss over, but I suppose it has places to
be.)
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
It's Gerald who really allows the focus of the episode to become more
carefully-honed as the physical manifestation of Oscar's superstitions. You can
tell that how the episode progresses comes from a place of sincerity from the
writers, people who have had to reconcile with anxieties of their own; it
reminds me a lot of the video where
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z6hsP7co3ZA">Bill Hader talks about treating his anxieties as a living create worthy of
acknowledging rather than obstructing</a>, something which has had a profound impact on how I reconcile with my own
issues. Oscar reaches the same conclusion: we have anxieties to protect us from
fears, rational or not, and it's foolish to try to make them disappear. It's
better to just keep them in check, to "let the scary and the not-scary live
together, as long as [they] understand each other." While the episode itself is
rather rudimentary, I have to appreciate the simplicity and profoundness of such
a lesson, yet another reminder that <i>SCI</i> is the sort of show that we'd all
have been lucky to have when we were younger.
<div>
<p>
<b>"Hall of Mooms":</b> A Hedgehog episode! I always love to see it,
which is a shame given how infrequent they feel. For a while, it really felt
like she was being pampered to become the show's center; she's certainly
more involved than Oscar and possesses a stronger overarching narrative in
the form of her witch training. An episode like "Hall of Mooms" subsequently
feels like more of a treat than it probably should, though that perhaps
plays to its benefit—it's a bit too gentle and uninvolved of an episode
otherwise.
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
What "Hall of Mooms" lacks in narrative complexity, it makes up for in its
efforts to expand the show's mythology. It's all about Hedgehog being fitted
for her broom, but when she discovers that she has a strange, fearful impulse
the clutch her broom when she attempts to ride it, she has to take a journey
to the titular Hall of Mooms and trace the superstition down her lineage of
moms. It's a chance for <i>SCI</i> to take a more meditative approach, but
it's almost <i>too</i> meditative—for as engaging as the setpiece is, it
belies a general lack of stakes, merely sending Hedgehog along from one mom to
the next in search of an answer that presents no real challenge beyond working
down the list. (Oscar, always a reliable support, ends up doing more to
progress the plot along than Hedgehog.)
<p>
Ultimately, this episode just ends up being something of an exercise in
pleasantness, with the added bonus of pushing Hedgehog's journey forward
just a little bit. I just would've liked this entry to be a bit more
involved for her, and the fact that such episodes feel so uncommon means
that it's hard to see this outing as an outing of much significance. Even
though none of the scheduled arcs for next season seem to place any emphasis
on Hedgehog—a bit of a head-scratching bummer for me, in all honesty—I hope
we can see her step more into the narrative than the past season has allowed
her to. Whether or not it felt like the biggest success, episodes like this
are shots well worth taking.
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
<b>"Pepper and the Fog": </b>What a sweet, unique way to end the season
on! This is the exact sort of thing I like to see from <i>SCI</i>—a tender
touch but an adventurous spirit, all guided by the show's trademark eye for
magical realism. "Pepper and the Fog" perhaps one of the show's most abstract
episodes, but I appreciate the incredibly dreamy nature of it all, something
that unsurprisingly fits the show's sensibilities like a nice glove. Instead
of concentrating on a conventional narrative, it's more about evoking a sense
of atmosphere, casting us under a spell as it progresses into even more
imaginative places... and I will <i>always</i> be here for that.
</div>
<div>
<p></p>
<p>
The plot is as eventful as it is simple: as Pepper navigates his way to
Susie's house on a foggy day, eager to read her a poem he wrote, he bumps
into all manner of strange folks across every corner of the map—a yeti, a
talking foghorn, and a sea siren eager for commercial jingle work, just to
name a few. It's a nice reminder that <i>Summer Camp Island</i> takes
place on, well, an <i>island.</i> There are so many strange things to
do and see, and while I feel like the later seasons have focused less on
these sorts of day trips, episodes like "Pepper and the Fog" speak to the
mystery of our setting, and all of the potential there is to exploring the
island's strangest corners.
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
There's also a lot to love about the episode being centered on Pepper,
everyone's favorite sleepy panda camper. Something I feel like I mention a lot
when talking about the show is that it has an amazing cast; every camper teems
with personality and potential, and while that means it's always fun seeing
them interact with our usual protagonists, that also makes me yearn to see
them carrying more of the show on their own. The success of a solo outing like
"Pepper and the Fog" further proves that excitement to be earned. Sure, Oscar
could've arguably carried this episode, but Pepper offers such a different and
specific brand of charming naivete that I couldn't really see it any other
way. (Who else could've sold that line delivery of "I'm a cloud!" anywhere
near as well?) There are so many different eyes that we can see the world
through, and although it's unlikely that Pepper will get as much of a moment
in the spotlight again, I hope that such an episode can embolden <i>SCI </i>to
take more chances with its more underutilized characters. As it stands, this
one's a real winner.
<p>
<b>FINAL GRADES:<br />"Hark the Gerald Sings": B.<br />"Hall of Mooms":
B-.<br />"Pepper and the Fog": A+.</b></p>
<p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">
<i>For my last reviews of "Shave a Little Off the Wheel" and "He's Just Not
Here Right Now," <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/09/summer-camp-island-review-shave-little.html">CLICK HERE</a>.</i>
</p>
<p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">
<i>If you like my stuff, be sure to follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>.</i>
</p>
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Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-47183546647986955382021-12-01T15:22:00.005-06:002023-10-15T01:09:49.071-05:00Saturday Night Live, Ranked and Reviewed: Season 5<p></p>
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<p></p>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Goodnight, and goodbye."</span></i></b></span>
</div>
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<p></p>
<p>
It's the end of an era, and in some ways, perhaps an ignoble one. John Belushi
and Dan Aykroyd have been replaced by Harry Shearer and a rotating cast of
writers as the show's mission seemingly becomes to survive and be perceived as
afloat. As with Season 4, we've also hit a point where SNL, for all of its
counterculture synergy, is an institution, increasingly tasked with upholding
its reputation rather than defining itself. Similarly, this season feels like
the last ride for many of the greatest hosts of this era—Buck Henry, Eric
Idle, Richard Benjamin—and the last chance for others to pal along with this
specific cast—Steve Martin, Elliott Gould. With the exception of Bill Murray,
and Harry Shearer, much of the cast would also exit the studio on the season
finale, never to return save for nostalgic cameos in anniversary shows.
</p>
<p>
Nevertheless, how does Season 5 fare against that ticking clock? Here's what I
thought!
</p>
<p>
For my reviews of the preceding season, Season 4,
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/09/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">CLICK HERE</a>!
</p>
<span><a name='more'></a></span>
<p>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px;"><b>10/13/79: Steve Martin / Blondie (S5 E01)</b></span>
</p>
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<div>
<p>
What better way is there to commence a season of probing uncertainty than
with a host who can carry the show as it makes its way through the darkness?
Indeed, while the Steve Martin premiere of Season 5 functions rather well,
there's a sense that its success is strictly indebted to him being the
nucleus holding everything together. It's less "Saturday Night Live" than
"Steve Martin and Friends," and while I enjoyed it far more than I was
anticipating, I have no greater assurances that we're headed in the
direction of stability.
</p>
<p>
I don't think that it's a bad idea to slot someone like Steve into the
premiere slot; he's able to keep things feeling brisk and energetic while
the show experiments and works out the finer details of what its deal is.
With that being said, its greatest issue is that it remains hard to see what
this final season will really <i>look like</i>; if you gut Steve out of
proceedings, we're left with a show that feels painfully hollow and unable
to hold itself up. The miscellaneous male writers do a fair job of filling
in slots throughout this episode, but barring Bill, there's a crucial lack
of identity to the show that periodic, serviceable appearances from the
likes of Tom Davis or Jim Downey just can't solve. The female cast remains
the same as it always was, but we've been shorn of the cerebrality of an
Aykroyd or the manic energy of a Belushi; as much as I enjoy Bill, too, one
cast member can't carry an entire half of the show no matter how far their
abilities exceed. (It's true that Garrett's also there, but the loss of Dan
and John doesn't do him any favors with how much the show pigeonholes his
utility. Perhaps this imbalance also serves to explain why all but three
hosts this season are male.) This premiere explores the idea of integrating
writers into proceedings more, but none of them pop so much as merely
keeping the show moving, which gives me concerns about what the season will
look like without such a dynamic host.
</p>
<p>
Fortunately, there's still a lot of enjoyment to be had here in spite of
those troubling aspects. I'd actually argue that this is on the upper end of
Steve's hosting gigs from the original era. For as fractured as the show
feels and for as central as Steve is to it, there's a very fun, writerly
feel to every piece, whether or not they fully get over. The first proper
sketch of the season featuring Steve as a freelance Spanish teacher, for
instance, isn't a huge laugh riot, but there's something charming about the
endeavor all the same; revealing Steve's intentions of infiltrating random
suburban houses to be fueled by a desire to use their showers rather than
some darker ulterior motive keeps it charming and almost childlike, a
perfect mold for the host at-hand. The Vandals sketch is a bit more
quintessentially Steve, casting him as a Roman emperor reacting in outrage
to juvenile acts of vandalism from, well, the Vandals; it's another silly
concept that works as well as it needs to, thanks to Steve's performance and
some sharp little details. (I loved the touch of Steve ordering a young
Vandal and his parents killed immediately after telling the Vandal to listen
to his parents.)
</p>
<p>
The best pieces of the night, though, were the Carole King sketch and the
10-to-1. The former is another piece carried in some large part by Steve
(surprise!), but it manages to extend its punchline of a vitally-injured
Steve screaming for help from Laraine's Carole King—playing "You've Got a
Friend" in a delicious bit of dark irony—to fine effect. The latter,
meanwhile, is one of those simple little pieces that manages to crawl
perfectly into the back of your brain and never leave; if I don't see it as
the classic that it allegedly is, Bill and Steve taking turns to ask each
other what the hell that thing is they're looking at makes for a simple but
effective little comedy routine to close out the night. It's also a fun
reminder of the fact that almost every Bill character is secretly just
Honker. (Just kidding, I love you ya little knucklehead, now get outta
here!)
</p>
<p>
Obviously, again, this episode doesn't make for a strong proof of concept of
how the rest of the season will unravel, and more than anything else, it's a
reminder that Steve is a perfect, flexible host. That's all you need
sometimes, though, and truly, for what kind of cynical, sad person is the
sight of Steve Martin breaking out into a fit of truly silly dancing
anything but a dose of pure happiness? It'll be troubling to see how the
show progresses as the reins are passed off to hosts who can't anchor the
show as confidently, but with SNL approaching dire straits, I'll relish
every bit of fun I can get. <i>(Penned 9/14/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
10/20/79: Eric Idle / Bob Dylan (S5 E02)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
Despite the fact that I've walked away from Eric's past three hosting gigs
with an overwhelming sense of happiness, I wasn't too thrilled by the
prospects of his final hosting stint. For one thing, it's always bittersweet
to know that this is the end of the road for his involvement with the show,
but for another, the original era of SNL is well past its prime; perhaps
most glaringly, Dan's departure means that there's not really another cast
member who can tap into Eric's exact wavelength. It's hard to say what I was
looking forward to, because while Eric can ensure that the show has at least
some overall sense of quality, it feels more like he's offering a boost to
an ailing program rather than both sides supporting each other... and
indeed, there are some points in this episode where SNL fails to really
support him.
</p>
<p>
Perhaps some of the strange vibes of the episode can also be attributed to
the fact that, as the cold open and monologue alluded to, Eric had a fever
so severe that Buck Henry was on standby in case he couldn't perform. Eric,
a determined host as ever, gamely spins some fun out of it with his
delightfully silly monologue, performing a series of physical impressions
while strapped to a stretcher, but as his presence in the episode slowly
diminishes overtime, the effects of that complication become all the more
clear. Perhaps that's also why Harry Shearer makes his debut as a featured
player here, nimbly filling in some blanks in the episode and even getting a
chance to carry his own sketch. (It's not a very good one, but his manic
delivery is on-point—I'm excited to see what he'll bring the rest of this
season.)
</p>
<p>
As for the sketches themselves, it was a strange mix of good and bad, so
viciously bipolar that it's hard for me to say which side ultimately wins
out in the end. On the plus side, we get some very sharp, Python-esque bits,
which is always a delightful perk of Eric's hosting. The shoe store sketch
is perhaps one of the finest to come from one of his episodes, casting him
as a shoe salesman who exists solely to show off and sell his beloved
footwear one shoe at a time; it's a classic double act, with Bill perfectly
cast as his flustered, aggravated customer, but it's all of the delightful
bits of miscellany (a string of Spanish lasses kiss Bill every time he
forwards the conversation, for instance) that make the piece work so
wonderfully. "Prince Charles Tells You How to Pick Up Girls!" is far more
simplistic, but it certainly strikes the funny bone to watch Bill, Garrett,
and Tom Davis snag women with hyperspecific one-liners about boning on the
Magna Carta and Irish terrorism.
</p>
<p>
Unfortunately, this is also an episode that falls apart almost entirely in
its second half; the transvestite stripper sketch feels at a loss with its
own weak conceit, "Heavy Sarcasm" was too formulaic, and "Ask Elvis"
bordered somewhere between cerebral and fully pointless. Andy Kaufman makes
a daring effort to save the episode by challenging the women of the audience
to a wrestling match, but as fun as it is to watch him relish in the
opportunity to become a villain and spar with the audience, this ultimately
isn't an act that speaks to me as much within his oeuvre. The episode's Bob
Dylan performances don't do much to sweeten the deal, either—I respect the
artistry, but packing in three sleepy, folksy tunes doesn't do a comedy show
any favors.
</p>
<p>
No matter which way you look at it, this is definitely the worst of Eric's
four episodes, even if it's not all that bad. This is an episode that
doesn't ultimately gel, and I'm no more assured that this season's gonna be
getting anywhere. <i>(Penned 9/15/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
11/03/79: Bill Russell / Chicago (S5 E03)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
It's kind of surprising to me that there haven't been more athlete hosts in
this original era considering how much of a periodic staple they would
become. While it's true that none of their episodes have been particularly
great (Fran Tarkenton's was okay at best, O. J.'s was actively quite
miserable), they always present something of a fun obstacle for the show
that ensures that SNL can't just go on like normal; it needs to accommodate
for a host without acting or comedy experience, and it needs to make them
look good. The end result tends to be either surprisingly great, or very
unremarkable, but at least it makes for an exciting proposition. Bill
Russell, however, was the latter.
</p>
<p>
To his credit, Bill seems to be having a pretty great time, even if his
natural woodenness gets in the way. As he expresses in his monologue, SNL is
a show that he greatly enjoys, and being able to participate in it is an
opportunity that he does his best not to pass up, gamely participating in
premises throughout that night which play as much to his abilities as they
do to his weaknesses. The best piece of the night is also the most
elaborate, "The Black Shadow," casting him as a role-reversed Black coach
who needs to be looked after by the white high school basketball team that
he coaches. Its premise is strong and it explores it nimbly, if without any
tremendous surprises, and although Bill is a bit of a tough nut to crack in
his performance, he's given such fun lines that it doesn't even matter. I
especially loved his repeated questioning of "It's because I'm Black, isn't
it?" every time someone calls out one of his personal flaws, including his
own mother (played frustratingly, if also to surprisingly gifted effect, by
Garrett).
</p>
<p>
Bill is at a bit more ease in the sports hotline sketch (opposite of
Murray), if not only because he plays himself, though it's a far less
remarkable piece; there's some fun to come out of the absurdity of
describing esoteric sports as if they were as ubiquitous as basketball, but
it's a bit too uninvolved to become anything greater. Unfortunately, though,
Bill stumbles over the night's most theoretically-compelling offering,
casting him and Garrett as the proprietors of a Barry White clothes store in
the abandoned mall. It's sort of a bizarre expectation to me that Bill would
be able to carry a more dramatic, slice-of-life piece, and unsurprisingly
the sketch is never able to get over, but I can't help but feel even the
idea was an ill-advised continuation of that sketch-verse in the first
place.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the night alternates between good and bad, okay and fully
unremarkable. The best of those, I'd argue, was the "Banshee" ad, for a
speaker which blasts pre-installed, melodramatic crying at funerals you
don't want to attend ("Your time is precious. His time is over."); we also
get a passable enough Nick the Lounge Singer sketch, as they always tend to
be, though this one (set at a military base in Greenland) lacked the fun
wrinkles and characterizations that these sketches are really predicated
upon. There's a sketch spoofing advice columns, and a sketch about Eleanor
Roosevelt's suggestive lesbianism—both feature Jane sitting at a desk and
playing with paper, and one of them is particularly dire. Everything else
sort of recedes into the background, swallowed up by the ho-hum atmosphere.
At least the host offered this one a bit of unique fun; without his wobbly
but amicable presence, this episode almost feels like nothing at all.
<i>(Penned 9/15/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
11/10/79: Buck Henry / Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers (S5 E04)
</h2>
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<p>
SNL paints Buck's record-breaking, ninth time hosting as a jokingly bleak
occasion. Protestors line the entrances of 30 Rock in opposition, picketing
and lynching a Buck effigy; during his monologue, Buck is flanked by
security guards in riot gear as he casually deflects hecklers; and perhaps
most amusingly, during the goodnights, the cast is so fed up with Buck and
his maudlin speech that they chase him off-stage and beat him up. Is this
prolonged narrative an excessively roundabout way to score another dig at
Fred Silverman? Perhaps. But it speaks to the power of Buck, an unassuming,
everyman host who relinquishes himself to SNL's whims, and while that so
often results in episodes that disappoint me, his penultimate gig is a
reminder of why I always find myself rooting for the guy.
</p>
<p>
Even if this episode was uneven, it was charmingly uneven; it felt like a
conceptual wild west, and while that didn't always pay off, it teemed with a
passion that the past year of the show has been sorely lacking in. It's an
episode that really feels like a team effort, where everyone is pitching in
something silly and different, and it makes for a delightful amalgamation of
voices. Sure, that means we end up with a dry-ass lead-off sketch built
strictly off of the visual of Laraine and Tom Davis having freaky frog
throat prosthetics and literally nothing else, but that also means we get a
morning talk show sketch led off by Garrett and (astonishingly) Yvette
Hudson founded upon the premise of force-feeding rancid clams to an
unsuspecting celebrity guest. The beauty is in the dichotomy.
</p>
<p>
This also happens to be an episode that deploys Buck at some of his finest,
which is such a joy to see. For once, he escapes an SNL episode without
being put at the mercy of the show's perversion! His best performance in my
opinion is in the Nerds sketch, making a return appearance as Todd's dad. I
was very skeptical of these sketches continuing past the last installment,
but while this is a step down, it's as strong of a character piece as the
Nerds sketches have become. Buck, with his beautifully weird laugh and
ticks, makes for a fine addition to the pieces, and his fumbled attempts to
ask out Mrs. Loepner are tons of fun in their own, thoughtfully
character-driven way. The best piece of the night for me, though—that
prototypically insane 10-to-1—let him cut beautifully loose as a man
speeding down the street, screaming with his wife and daughter about his
desperation to pee at home and slamming through everything in his path. I
repeat: dichotomy!
</p>
<p>
It's sort of sad to know that, for as iffy as Buck's episodes can be,
there's only one left to look forward to. No matter if SNL's impulses with
him are good or bad on any given night, there's no denying that he's the
quintessential host of these first five years, and this episode is a
testament to that unheralded strength. <i>(Penned 9/17/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
11/17/79: Bea Arthur / The Roches (S5 E05)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
The prospects of Bea Arthur hosting SNL were as exciting as they proved to
be quietly disappointing. She's a wickedly funny woman who could score a
laugh from a glare, and her theatrical background ensures that she's more
than capable of carrying out whatever the show could possibly ask of her
with panache. It's a shame, then, that the show asks so little of her;
rather than being able to command the stage, she's often relegated to
straight roles, plugging effortlessly into the universe of the sketches
she's offered, but also rather thanklessly. It's not a bad night, really,
but it's one that can never really exit the cloud of disappointment that
comes with such a squandered host.
</p>
<p>
I think that a large part of your opinion on this episode, then, is founded
upon your opinion of its two largest pieces: "First He Cries" and "Backer's
Audition." The former is another in Franken and Davis' string of inverted
premise epics: what if, in light of a woman's masectomy, we focus less on
her struggles in favor of the marginalized interests of a husband who has to
cope with being married to "half a woman?" As with a lot of their work,
there's a very cruel sense to the joke, which plays around with farcical
misogyny as everyone from Gilda's family to her doctor (played expertly by
Bea in her best role of the night) berate her for making Bill's plight all
about herself, but it works for how much it hits you over the head with its
stupidity, framing Bill's narcissistic stance on the issue as one deserving
of an entire hero's journey. (We also get another delightfully goofy theme
song from Bill to cap the sketch off, which is quickly becoming one of my
favorite running gags with this season—this is certainly better work from Al
than him aimlessly torturing live cockroaches on Update.) The "Backer's
Audition" works less for me, though; while I was eventually able to come
around on it more, it's dense, esoteric, and so unassumingly delivered that
it's hard to make hay of everything it presents to you. I enjoyed a lot of
the individual musical numbers—Bill sings emphatically about being a
"burglar of love," and Garrett steals it with an insane song as Charles
Manson about "Revolution 9"—but it was hard for me to equate the piece to
the sum of its parts with how frequently it threatened to lose me in its
headiness altogether.
</p>
<p>
Elsewhere, while I don't think the episode possessed any duds, a lot of
sketches left me with something to be desired despite their promise. I
really enjoyed the premise of Tom Davis' sketch, casting him as a boy whose
refusal to go to school sends his father and all of American society into a
downward spiral, but its execution felt too rushed and undetailed, zipping
straight to its admittedly strong finish without tending to the sort of
structure that would make it much more fulfilling. Similarly, I really liked
everyone's performance in the Thanksgiving dinner sketch, with Bill, Jane,
Laraine, and Paul Shaffer devolving into sophomoric antics at the kiddie
table they've been sentenced to for the umpteenth year in a row, but I'd
love to have seen where it would continue to go. (It's a very functional
sketch, at least, and there's nothing wrong with leaving the audience
wanting more.)
</p>
<div>
Everything else in the episode is generally fun, though it feels like it's
just filling out the blanks. The Cuban Beatles sketch is thin and
questionable, but a silly enough diversion; Harry Shearer's commercial
spokesperson work continues to be impressive but a poor substitute for Dan;
and Andy Kaufman pops up to propose a climactic wrestling match in the
Christmas episode while being delightfully villainous. This episode also
scores the best "Woman to Woman" sketch, which is a low bar to clear but
proves to be a rather enjoyable one to have surpassed. Oh, and the Roches
sing like angels! All in all, there's certainly a lot of good, but an equal
amount here left to be desired, and I can't say that I was too swung by this
episode as a whole despite the merit that it certainly has.
<i>(Penned 9/18/21)</i>
</div>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
12/08/79: Howard Hesseman / Randy Newman (S5 E06)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Q5-PysoZC4JzcJ6AmABWifA-C-PqpjM-IHUSuPvkTv5T2HrgqtcnWWiPIiKnyvb9YtibfRH0gb24aD1YAqJ1YKpr8Z6Aog8tPGU4Uvq-JI4QmH62X5II3zPorIXF4x65bEZCTvMgsIY/s2048/Screenshot+%252812848%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Q5-PysoZC4JzcJ6AmABWifA-C-PqpjM-IHUSuPvkTv5T2HrgqtcnWWiPIiKnyvb9YtibfRH0gb24aD1YAqJ1YKpr8Z6Aog8tPGU4Uvq-JI4QmH62X5II3zPorIXF4x65bEZCTvMgsIY/s16000/Screenshot+%252812848%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
Y'know, you can't knock Howard Hesseman for his energy. He's like
everybody's favorite '70s dad, on top of being an ideal, charismatic-as-hell
SNL host. Right from the monologue, he seems perfectly at ease navigating
some fairly cumbersome writing and engaging in a lot of crowd work, even
throwing in some fun ad-libs. That monologue serves as a sort of precedent
for a lot of this episode's material: if there's nothing here that I'd
single out as a particular highlight, Howard holds the rather inelegant
sketches he's saddled with together like a pro. It makes you wish he got
better things to do, admittedly, but there's worse a host can do than make
their way through a testy episode with flying colors.
</p>
<p>
Howard's flexibility is his greatest attribute; although he doesn't get a
ton of chances to really cut loose, he commits to everything while weaving
perfectly into the ensemble. He reads as someone who has complete faith in
the show and writing, and never oversteps that imaginary line. This serves
him best in the "Stereo 105," featuring Harry as a radio DJ who spends
basically the entire sketch zooming tactlessly along an ostensive radio
interview with the <i>WKRP</i> star. It's long, and as with Harry's
sketches, occasionally overwrought with lived-in but needlessly meticulous
detail, but Howard is in fine form as his bewilderment mounts and
crystallizes into anger, at one point choke-holding Harry just to get a few
lines in. He also gets to have a nice burst of silliness at the very end of
the night in the "Holiday Inn Horror" sketch; as fun as the premise is of
Gilda tormenting two poor hotel guests with 6 AM room service is, it's
Howard's turn as a maniacal front desk clerk that allows everything to snap
perfectly in place.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode doesn't find a great use for his talents, but he
keeps plugging along. "The Bel-Airabs" is a piece that was destined to age
poorly, in between my lack of familiarity with
<i>The Beverly Hillbillies</i> and the whole Arab routine (Gilda's
character... fucking <i>woof</i>), but I guess it's functional within a
vacuum if you close your eyes and pretend that a lot of the variables are
different. I also struggled with the "old flame" sketch, which felt almost
like some weird, farcical version of a slice-of-life sketch. It was peppered
with just enough unsavory detail that it's hard to tell if its characters
should be approached with empathy, or approached as caricatures. All of this
also makes the sketch sound more novel than it actually is, though; it's not
too exciting either way. Some other things, I wish I could appreciate
more—the Celtic James Brown cold open and the pretape about Jane's first
love Walter Cronkite at least feel somewhat inspired, but they're also as
labored or aimless as almost everything else in the show.
</p>
<p>
Ultimately, while a rewatch granted me more enjoyment over the episode than
I had before, all it really left me with was piqued curiosity for when
Howard comes back to host in the Ebersol era. <i>(Penned 9/21/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<div>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
12/15/79: Martin Sheen / David Bowie (S5 E07)
</h2>
</div>
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</div>
<p>
Sometimes, a radical musical guest can lend an episode more gravitas than
any of the written material itself. Such is certainly the case for this
Martin Sheen gig. Not to be unfair to the guy, by any means—he's about
on-par with the hosts this season, not revelatory but workmanlike, and he
gets to shine in some legitimately great material on some occasions—but this
episode is all about David Bowie. He's the king of otherwordly cool, whether
than entails him performing a number while incapacitated in a
sarcophagus-esque suit or being flanked with robotic, television-mouthed
poodles. (We even get a little marionette dick in there because, y'know, why
not?) Bowie, with his three numbers, is a performer who outshines everyone
else in his midst by the sheer power of his captivation. To let him be a
musical guest in a season of SNL that's already struggling feels almost
unfair to them.
</p>
<p>
But as for the show itself, as I said before, everyone's trying, and hey,
sometimes the sketches are working. Two particularly exceptional pieces
offer a momentary respite from the episode's bouts of monotony. The "Dark
Shadows" sketch is perfect, casting Gilda as a little girl who is repeatedly
the victim of more and more sinister intrustions, all of which are written
off by her increasingly-beleaguered parents. It's the sort of slow-burning
sketch that actually works with its slow pacing; rather than being as padded
out as, say, this episode's never-ending <i>Apocalypse Now</i> sketch (funny
to critique Coppola for letting money burn as if this SNL epic was worth the
work itself), every beat adds delightfully to the tension and takes glee in
pulling the rug out from under us with every successively more absurd turn.
The final beat, with Gilda opening her closet door and discovering a
grotesque, axe-wielding monstrosity with one of its eyes popped out of its
socket elicits a beautiful roll of gasps and groans from the audience... and
goddammit, I love to hear it. The murderer sketch is similarly thoughtful
and deploys the sort of classic comic premise that you wish you were the one
to come up with, casting Garrett and Martin as a crime duo who find
themselves at the mercy of an increasing body count despite their best
efforts to keep a low profile. It stumbles a bit at the end, but it's a
great mix of darkness and silliness.
</p>
<p>
Everything else deserves little to no attention. An ad for "Martin Sheen"
hair sheen, with Martin spitting directly onto Jane's hair, is slight but at
least cute; the Robert Conrad sketch similarly gives Martin a chance to
really pal around with the boys rather charmingly, even if the cache of the
specific ad it's parodying is long expired. The less said about the
interminable teacher's strike sketch or the transsexual cold open (on the
Bowie show, guys?), the better. It's a bit of a difficult episode to
compute, but the fact that it has some legitimately wonderful material, in
tandem with its wonderful musical performances, ensures that there's at
least something to keep you going. <i>(Penned 11/29/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
12/22/79: Ted Knight / Desmond Child & Rouge (S5 E08)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
Since last season's Elliott Gould episode, I feel like we've settled into
more of a representative pattern of what SNL's Christmas episodes can be
like: they're either spirited, all-hands-on-deck efforts filled with holiday
cheer, or they're largely mediocre, getting a slight bump from the time of
year that only occasionally off-centers a sense of punching in for one last
time before the holiday break. Ted Knight's episode is a step above what we
got last season, but it quietly makes itself at home in the pantheon of
rather humdrum Christmas episodes. Some strong pieces towards the end give
it value, but beyond the spectacle of Ted's beaming charisma, there's not
too much joy being channeled here.
</p>
<p>
SNL seems at least generally aware of the energy that Ted can bring to the
show; he's game as you could be, as evidenced by his monologue where he goes
full-on Steve Martin and confesses that he's the comedy star's estranged
father. But we also spend too much of the episode channeling that energy
into pieces like the night's oblong sexual harassment sketch, whose greatest
offense of all is the complete lack of perspective in spite of such an
extensive runtime. (Can you guess what the big joke at the end of this '70s
sketch on sexual harassment in the workplace is??) He's similar pushed into
a dull, straight role in the Nerds nativity sketch, a piece which is
infinitely more interesting for its unqualified controversy than its content
itself. Nerds sketches are best when they continue to expand upon their
universe, but this piece is merely an exercise in that classic SNL trope of
stuffing characters into a new context and watching them derail it while Ted
responds in powerless outrage. Basically, it's a Nerds sketch that, by
design, has nowhere to really go.
</p>
<p>
Fortunately, the night does pack a few punches towards its back-half,
however long it takes the episode to warm up. (For Christ's sake, the
running order of the episode, barring its very short segments, is almost
directly from worst to best.) Tom Schiller came in packing heat with his
"Java Junkie" pretape, a rather unheralded piece starring Peter Aykroyd, a
performer so underrated by the show that he hasn't even gotten a cast credit
yet. It's not overly funny beyond its premise, with Peter becoming an addict
for a hot cup of joe after life offers him the raw end of the stick, but
it's anchored by dizzying cinematography and Peter's ace performance; as
with Schiller's best work, its strength is in evoking a mood and a genre
with equal parts goofiness and affection. Ted's abilities, meanwhile, are
used best in the episode's final sketch (and the final sketch of the
decade!), casting him as a visiting grandfather who cares excessively and
detrimentally about Christmas, to the chagrin of his extended family. It's
got some fun cynicism to it, but it balances those tones perfectly with
Ted's blithe, dopey unawareness of everyone's dissatisfaction.
</p>
<p>
This episode also features the climactic wrestling match between Andy
Kaufman and the female contest winner who was selected to take him on. These
pieces remain strange, and perhaps difficult to assess; as much as I love
Andy relishing in his antagonistic, misogynistic persona (he denies his
opponent an extra minute at the very end, garnering the most aggressive
crowd response I have <i>ever</i> heard on SNL), these are more fascinating
than funny. It's an exercise in riling the crowd up and playing with their
emotions, and while Andy whips them into a frenzy, he's gotten the same
response in more delightful ways.
</p>
<p>
All in all, this isn't <i>quite</i> a middling effort, but it's one that
fills me with some apprehension for what the rest of the season will look
like. "I'll take what I can get" is quickly becoming my mantra, and as we
near the point of no return for S5's reported mediocrity, all I can do is
hope for those diamonds in the rough.
<i>(Penned 9/25/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
1/26/80: Teri Garr / The B-52s (S5 E09)
</h2>
<p></p>
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</div>
<p></p>
<p>
Even if my praise of the first half of S5 wasn't perhaps the most lavish,
I'll admit that I found it to be far more enjoyable than I was anticipating.
If it hasn't been inspiring me to get deeper into my watch-through, I've
walked away from almost every episode with respect for at least some of the
material. (Comparatively, the first half of last season left me with a dire
lack of season highlights.) I shudder at what lay ahead, though; this Teri
Garr episode is considered to be the dramatic turning point for the season,
and while I don't think this one reached any crushing lows, it didn't do
much to give me hope. Ironically enough, Teri is better served in her cameo
last episode's "Java Junkie" than she is here; she's a game presence that
the show is so hung up on figuring out how to use that her monologue is
literally 30 seconds long.
</p>
<p>
I could easily generalize the failures of this episode, as none of the
sketches fully work and many overstay their welcome, but I feel like there's
actually quite a bit of merit here. The greater misfortune is that, despite
being rich in workable concepts, nothing in this episode takes off as much
as it could, and sometimes it doesn't take off at all. There's something to
the idea of a gang of presidential hopefuls carrying out household chores
for a housewife hoping to swing a vote for the Iowa Caucus, for instance,
but it never finds a fun or particularly incisive angle. Instead, it
seemingly exists to remind us of how fundamentally weak the male cast of the
show is right now, a theme that would be reiterated as the episode
continues. (Jim Downey and Brian-Doyle Murray are many things, but they're
certainly not magnetic when they're given this much to do.) The idea of
"Debs Behind Bars" feels similarly ripe, perhaps getting to twist some
delightfully scathing jabs at films in its genre like the great "Married in
a Minute!" sketch from Mary Kay Place's S3 episode, but it ends up being
similarly lethargic—it's rather telling that the best moment is a blooper
where Laraine-as-Gloria Vanderbilt's earring falls off and thuds on the
ground.
</p>
<p>
I don't want to talk about most of this episode's other patches of
mediocrity too intensely; we get the unwarranted return of those "Bad X"
sketches, and Laraine does good work as a child movie producer in a
less-than-good piece. The "Anchovy Council of America" sketch is the most
successful sketch here; it could've afforded some more polishing, but I
found it to be a thoroughly enjoyable exercise in deadpan absurdity, and
mercifully less racial stereotyping than its premise (a council for
anchovies trying to target Black consumers) would suggest. If this is
another Harry Shearer sketch, I'd say it's also found some of the best use
of his tendencies as a writer and performer. If not, uh... sorry man, still
not the biggest fan of your brand right now.
</p>
<p>
You know what's super awesome, though? The B-52's bopping around like a
bunch of kitschy weirdos, shout-singing about lobsters, marine life, and
different dance moves to the overwhelming delight of the entire studio
audience. One wishes SNL had less general reservation about bringing new
wave artists onto the show; it's the perfect fit for SNL's brand of
counterculture, though it's perhaps unsurprising that as this era becomes
more jaded, it's also become more willing to call on the likes of Randy
Newman, James Taylor, and Bob Dylan in his Christian phase to lull me to
sleep. At least we can get some stuff as delightful as this, sometimes; if
SNL can't provide enough joyful silliness for an evening like this, I'm more
than happy for a group like the B-52's to step up to bat and inject some
into my veins.
<i>(Penned 9/26/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
2/09/80: Chevy Chase / Marianne Faithfull, Tom Scott (S5 E10)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
I love a good trainwreck episode, at least in theory, and it's sort of dumb
that I do. How often do I actually <i>enjoy</i> those? How often do I derive
true entertainment from SNL veering hard off the rails or being engulfed by
drama? It's true that these sort of legendary episodes offer something
unique—they've lived on in infamy, for better or worse, more than your
average, ho-hum outing—but it's rare that such uniqueness is a source of
guilty joy so much as anger or tedium. This Chevy Chase episode doesn't end
up on the right side, and it's all the more dreary because of it.
</p>
<p>
I mean lo and behold: Chevy is a fucking <i>disaster</i>. His forehead
glistens through the entire night with flop sweat, and whatever surefire
chops he deployed through his tenure that made him such a star have been
replaced with nervous laughter and hesitation. Tragically, too, much of the
show is built around the necessity that he'll be in tip-top shape, even if
much of its material is the sort of thing that even Chevy in his prime
couldn't save; it basically asked for the audience's goodwill in a performer
submitting, up to this point, the worst performance of his entire life. The
centerpiece sketch, most famously, is the never-ending "You Can't Win"
piece, casting Chevy as the host of a game show where, by design, none of
its contestants can win. There's an okay premise in that, though the writing
betrays it and fails to recognize that us knowing how the show will keep
screwing contestants over leaves the no room for surprise. But Chevy,
blasting through his lines with a sort of ambiguous cocaine anxiety, comes
across less like he's saying his lines—the meat and potatoes of this
sketch—so much as having a stroke with occasional hints of coherency. He
does the impossible: he kills an episode that's already dead. (Also, as a
reminder: this is the same guy who got banned from hosting SNL for smacking
Cheri when she flubbed a line.)
</p>
<p>
I suppose not all the blame can be cast on Chevy even if so much of it
should be; the show certainly gives him nothing good to work with either
way. For fuck's sake, we get another grueling "Bel-Airabs" sketch where the
joke remains, "What if we did The <i>Beverly Hillbillies</i> but it was
racist?", which to its credit is the most Franken & Davis sketch premise
ever. (It even has the foresight to have Don Novello's character point out
the racist depictions of Arabs in media because, y'know, that totally takes
the edge off!) Every other sketch is, at best, vaguely palatable, but
fraught with Chevy's ineptitude. By the time the show lands on a truly
interesting and experimental piece—the poison darts sketch at the very
end—my patience has been tested too many times for me to even give it a
chance.
</p>
<p>
Oh yeah, and we also get a musical performance from Chevy, performing an
awful cover of "16 Tons" to close out the night! Whether or not this is
better than Marianne Faithfull's two performances—she was dragged off a
toilet, where she was discovered high on dental anesthetics with a bottle of
brandy between her knees, just hours before—is debatable. God, this one
sucks. <i>(Penned 11/30/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: D.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
2/16/80: Elliott Gould / Gary Numan (S5 E11)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
It's a shame that Elliott Gould, in all of his effortlessly cool charms,
can't seem to inspire the show anymore. Perhaps it's no coincidence that his
hosting gigs all seem emblematic of the seasons he resides over: he keeps
his Season 1 gigs stable and inspired, elevates a joyful Season 2 gig, and
slogs through a dull Season 4 gig. He's less likely to raise the show so
much as play gamely to its then-current attributes, so perhaps it's no
surprise that his final hosting stint within the original era feels
quintessentially burned out, packed with some intriguing enough concepts but
a failure to capitalize on its ambitions.
</p>
<p>
To the show's credit, Elliott gets to cut loose this episode more than most
of his other episodes, but not to particularly strong effect. The subway
genie sketch grants him perhaps the most meaty character work the show's
ever offered him as he waxes poetic on he majesty of the MTA and tosses
limitless subway tokens and transfer coupons about, but the piece itself is
symptomatic of the season in general: a unique concept and set design
saddled by a lack of conciseness. "The Incredible Man" sketch is as long,
and perhaps twice as muddy; there's certainly something to the idea of a
crude, Canadian knock-off of <i>The Wizard of Oz</i>, but it's never
clear what it's actually trying to do, and moreover, how to make comedic
targets out of whatever its goal is. More than anything else, it
misinterprets extravagance and commitment—look at that set! the costumes!
the songs!—for inherent humor. (We also get to see Garrett dressed up as a
monkey, which is so disgustingly demeaning that he'd end up having a
breakdown about the casting at the next week's table read. Wanna take a
guess who wrote that one?)
</p>
<p>
Fortunately, some things worked at least a bit better here than in other
episodes this season, even if some of the more grueling pieces inch out
their goodwill. The prison recruitment sketch, with Elliott making an appeal
to a serial murderer about a basketball scholarship, makes for a sturdy
exercise in comic heightening with the fun of bringing more and more strange
figures into his holding cell to sell him on the concept. (It's not trying
to be much, but it succeeds in being adequate and landing as intended!)
Moreover, Harry Shearer scores an unequivocal win here, playing a radio DJ
whose exclusive goal is telling callers the time; it's something of a
masterclass on the power of repetition, and the added wrinkle of his clock
breaking part-way through the sketch, draining him of his already contrived
sense of purpose, is fantastic. Lastly, Gilda contributes a delightfully
silly fake ad, using her Rhonda Weiss character to advertise "Jewess Jeans."
It's simple but effective pastiche, and another case study for Gilda's
ability to sell a concept by the virtues of her charms alone.
</p>
<div>
Even with those highlights... it's a bit hard to really get excited about
this one. I feel like I walked away from this one with more appreciation
than most, but I couldn't make a convincing claim of being anything but
underwhelmed. Elliott, par for the course, deserves better.
<i>(Penned 9/28/21)</i>
</div>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
2/23/80: Kirk Douglas / Sam & Dave (S5 E12)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHqtuTnNKam2sPT470ErbFxYZ69DzDbHJuyhYrpM96Jdd_7yYKCamESFUx42D4IOowOfbxCG89Mn2v46NcJRR3ifWToci6GSbLAweUwuCfvzU5c9Y2nWmisFN8D9T6KTBTEZb8Ap47I4/s2048/Screenshot+%252812920%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHqtuTnNKam2sPT470ErbFxYZ69DzDbHJuyhYrpM96Jdd_7yYKCamESFUx42D4IOowOfbxCG89Mn2v46NcJRR3ifWToci6GSbLAweUwuCfvzU5c9Y2nWmisFN8D9T6KTBTEZb8Ap47I4/s16000/Screenshot+%252812920%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
Another day, another Season 5 episode whose quality falls unceremoniously in
the middle. It's hard to come up with some new thesis statement every single
episode when the show seems committed to take its most promising assets and
generally squander them. As with Elliott the preceding week, Kirk Douglas is
a naturally magnetic and game host, and his stint is littered with promising
and at times audacious ideas... and yet, by the end, all I can really do is
shrug at the ways the show channeled those positive qualities.
</p>
<div>
To reiterate: goddamn, within the context of this episode at least, Kirk is
amazingly charming. If there's one thing I generally can't knock about the
past season, it's that the show has really keyed into some great hosts who
are willing to play ball with whatever curious bit of inanity they're
presented. For the case of Kirk, if that means they want him doing
impressions of other people's Kirk Douglas impressions, he will gladly do it
and channel every ounce of vigor into his line readings, turning a dumb
premise into a deeply committed one. That sense of unwavering devotion lends
itself most effectively to the night's mandatory Franken/Davis mini-epic,
"The Microdentists," casting him as an archetypal military hard-ass on a
dangerous mission, alongside Bill and Laraine... to clean Anwar Sadat's
teeth. As with all Franken/Davis concoctions, it walks a dangerous line with
its extraneous detail, and that prevents it from becoming a bonafide
classic—the Anwar Sadat detail feels very mad-libbed, and the intermission
with Gilda and Jane explaining the limitations of doing a faithful adaption
of the script is a <i>baffling</i> clunker—but the good is great, and the
weirdness of the premise, mixing cliched action movie antics with graphic
taste bud ambushes, takes things a long way. (That giant mouth set is truly
insane.)
</div>
<p>
The rest of the night is generally less successful, despite that same
spirit. "What If," unsurprisingly, is back to being a truly baffling
recurring segment. I get the joke, I swear, and I think there is something
funny to the idea of taking a mind-numbingly dumb question from a little kid
and granting it a painfully-earnest dramatization, but these sketches almost
never live up to their promise in spite of their commitment. Kirk,
continuing his trend of being a fun host, is a lot of fun as a very childish
Spartacus dropping his shoes out of an aircraft window, but the joke feels
so slight and drawn-out that even the audience is unsure how to respond to
any of it. We also get another installment of Nick the Lounge Singer, but a
strange one that doesn't work for me fully; it takes a strangely long time
to reveal itself to be a Nick sketch, and that time spent world-building
almost feels like a detriment for these sorts of sketches where the world is
built organically in Nick's interactions with his audience. (He doesn't get
a particularly fun crowd here, either.) Things end, at least, with a rather
solid sketch, casting Gilda as a gruff bathroom attendant who grapples onto
Kirk when he accidentally walks into the women's washroom. The premise of a
celebrity playing themselves in an incongruous situation is pretty
chockablock for SNL, but this one works in how character-driven it is, with
Gilda's strong performance giving it slice-of-life vibes. It's a nice and
silly palette-cleanser to end the night on.
</p>
<p>
As always, though: some good, some bad, mostly things in between. (We also
get some badass Sam & Dave performances thrown into the mix, helping to
exorcise the ghosts of the Blues Brothers from the studio with a bold
reclamation of their song "Soul Man." Hell yeah, baby.) To Season 5's
credit, it hasn't truly bottomed out, but it's never lived up to what it has
the capacity to be, either. <i>(Penned 10/03/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
3/08/80: Rodney Dangerfield / The J. Geils Band (S5 E13)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaN27msOMLGRBa8G8Ue9_JiKePtXVQHlziS141GPEx33bM7V-_SqLpd8f6OmhdNDabePJFYikyPNhjTwMC3DHOS6cxFlC9PjbL6cXyRzv-dia5EfVR0C3yUoOBGsA87KRZGK0YXadQk8s/s2048/Screenshot+%252813607%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaN27msOMLGRBa8G8Ue9_JiKePtXVQHlziS141GPEx33bM7V-_SqLpd8f6OmhdNDabePJFYikyPNhjTwMC3DHOS6cxFlC9PjbL6cXyRzv-dia5EfVR0C3yUoOBGsA87KRZGK0YXadQk8s/s16000/Screenshot+%252813607%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
You want to look forward to Rodney Dangerfield hosting so badly that you
almost forget to heed to the warning signs. I'll keep beleaguering the
point: this season has not been great. It's settled into such a frustrating
patch that even the prospect of a host who I would otherwise be really eager
to see carry out the show fills me more with apprehension than excitement.
It becomes a manner of guessing not if an episode will be good or bad, but
in what ways a host will be wronged. Fortunately, those low expectations
allowed me to get some nice surprises out of this one, but the lowlights
make it characteristically difficult to assess.
</p>
<p>
First of all: Rodney Dangerfield! I haven't had too much exposure to him
throughout my life, but he's one of those comedians of yesteryear that
manages to stay one step ahead of the potential hackiness of his act by the
virtue of his charms and talent, hammering in his self-owns with a
near-surgical precision. He's not the sort of person that can really put on
other comic personas throughout the night, but he doesn't have to—we're here
for Rodney, and the show is privy to throwing him some fun one-liners to
forge the night's identity firmly around him. Sketches like the sperm store
sketch serve him well in that regard, constructing an absurd scenario
(Dangerfield sperm is in high demand) that he can sink some of his trademark
barbs into ("I’m at the age now, when I squeeze into a parking space, I’m
sexually satisfied!").
</p>
<p>
Unfortunately, this is also an episode that tries its hand at some edgier
fare, perhaps indebted to Rodney being in the house, and my god does it
bring the episode to a screeching halt. Harry Shearer's gratuitously
ill-conceited fake ad up top for a coin with a very racist name that allows
him to keep saying the n-word feels like a little teaser for the episode's
big stinker: "Manhasset," a Woody Allen parody casting Rodney as a man
(himself?) who's in love with an adolescent. It takes a skilled writer to
craft a parody that works without directly knowing what it's based off of;
it takes Franken and Davis to decide it's comedy gold to bump down the age
of a character from 17 to 10. There's <i>nothing</i> to this one, unless
specificity for specificity's sake can substitute for humor. In the ickiness
of it all, it's just too hard to locate laughs despite the show being way
too confident that it's a riot.
</p>
<p>
The best sketch of the night wasn't edgy, nor was it centered too hard on
anything crude: the "substitute judge" sketch is just perfect silliness. As
soon as the joke locks in that Brian-Doyle Murray's substitute judge is like
the courtroom's substitute teacher, it becomes an exercise in goofy fun and
clever observations. If that Thanksgiving kid's table sketch from Bea Arthur
was a proof of concept, this sketch is a masterclass on juvenility. That's
the sort of energy this episode really deserved all the way through, and
it's the sort of energy that Rodney was able to feed into best, however
scarcely this episode allowed him to. He just don't get no respect.
<i>(Penned 10/04/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
3/08/80: 100th Episode (no host) / Paul Simon & James Taylor, David
Sanborn (S5 E14)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPMjOJhQTWkHzVO8DDlyMLhKyHND-HAJta1RKgvaYRjAa4lj8RXr3DhdBazuj0YFOxUNKiNkJpt_XeV0xOvXazF0641Pegwruw8MJ2U3U-mYZt31khUQQk8OLT6pNpIpf96N_4pBvsV_4/s2048/Screenshot+%252813114%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPMjOJhQTWkHzVO8DDlyMLhKyHND-HAJta1RKgvaYRjAa4lj8RXr3DhdBazuj0YFOxUNKiNkJpt_XeV0xOvXazF0641Pegwruw8MJ2U3U-mYZt31khUQQk8OLT6pNpIpf96N_4pBvsV_4/s16000/Screenshot+%252813114%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
It's nice that, in this wildly unenticing season, the 100th episode feels
like a proper celebration. The house is packed with cameos from faces old
and new; greatest hits are being broken out left and right; and James Taylor
and Paul Simon, two of the SNL's favorite folksy fellas, are in the building
to perform a nice little medley. Despite all of this ringers, this isn't the
most bombastic episode ever, but it's one that does the best it can at
bringing some excitement into an era that's past its prime, hoping that some
dazzling surprise guest stars and crowd-pleasers can bring a buzz back to
the room. It sort of does, and it sort of doesn't, but there's always a nice
air of specialness.
</p>
<div>
That's most obvious in how much this episode packs in those aforementioned
cameos. Right from jump street, the cold open, taking the form of a pre-show
seance, features Michael O'Donoghue and John Belushi doing what they do
best, to the audience's delight—being everyone's favorite grumpy edgelord,
here to remind us that the show "really sucks rubber donkey lungs" these
days (not that I fully disagree), and busting into another "but no" rant
about the lameness of his cameo's conceit, respectively. A cameo from
Michael Palin in the "Talk or Die" sketch similarly pops, though in true
"Michael Palin on SNL" spirit, not as much as you'd like. (And featuring
more animal cruelty. C'mon, Michael.) But hey, there's a lot of intrinsic
fun to the premise of a talk show that is plagued with inexplicable danger
that befalls its unsuspecting guests; it's nicely committed to the insanity
and features some fine performances from Garrett and Jane.
</div>
<p>
Other cameos work a bit less well, even if there's never anything too
offensive. Ralph Nader holds down a correspondent spot on Weekend Update to
do his dorky dad economist things, and while he maintains the likability
that made his Season 2 hosting gig such a surprise, the material itself is
nothing worth writing home about. (There is something poignant about seeing
Ralph sitting alongside Bill, though, as the host of his very first episode
in the cast.) Patrick Moynihan also pops up twice as himself, never to
strong effect; "The Biggest Leprechaun" is peak aimlessness for SNL,
stumbling upon a funny visual (tall Peter Aykroyd as a leprechaun) but
leaning on that visual as its sole crutch, and he later walks on to an
admittedly-silly sketch featuring Peter, Bill, and Garett as wine
connoisseur bums to advertise the wines of New York.
</p>
<p>
Everything else in the episode sort of fills in the gaps, but it maintains
the amicable mood. We get another Nerds sketch, and while the show has
written itself into a corner where it's unsure of how to expand their
narrative further, it's fun enough to see them and delve into a bit of
ensemble work. The medieval band sketch is similarly silly, if modest in
ambition; it's really just a chance for everyone to do silly British accents
and say "flogging" a lot. The novelty of Paul Shaffer accidentally letting
out an f-bomb triumphs over any of the written material, but it's always fun
to be reminded of the live, accident-prone nature of the show. My
favorite piece of the night was the monologue, where at the expense of a
host, Bill Murray comes out, fully unbridled, to perform a wild serenade to
the hustle and bustle of New York City while dancing, flipping, and slamming
into the floor.
</p>
<p>
As my write-up can attest to, there's not any big wins, but there's
something to be said of the fun, celebratory vibes of this show. It may
ultimately end up being just another Season 5 episode, but it charms instead
of frustrates. The show feels so fatigued by this point that I'll happily
take in those good vibes. <i>(Penned 10/06/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
3/08/80: Richard Benjamin & Paula Prentiss / The Grateful Dead (S5 E15)
</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mAq57IM-Cjcszuev_RJbaW0UmVsz0OJ05-uNxYbste5ztulJ9R4M7sbGV9oxzWGAtomzZKllobgXXsq0D33OSclW1sPZLUeH9sUvoI9Axh_-JJsyfD4KanhX74SbWwOQRI0ogfa5OLA/s2048/Screenshot+%252813643%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mAq57IM-Cjcszuev_RJbaW0UmVsz0OJ05-uNxYbste5ztulJ9R4M7sbGV9oxzWGAtomzZKllobgXXsq0D33OSclW1sPZLUeH9sUvoI9Axh_-JJsyfD4KanhX74SbWwOQRI0ogfa5OLA/s16000/Screenshot+%252813643%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
While I still have absolutely no idea what Richard Benjamin's deal is,
within only two hosting stints he's proven himself to be one of my favorite
hosts of this original era. For some reason, he just seems to unlock the
<i>best</i> out of SNL; his first episode was packed with stunning ambition
and experimentation, while this second (and sadly final) one, with his wife
Paula Prentiss in tow, is all about nuanced character pieces, tinged with
slice-of-life aspects and clever conceits. In a season that's felt largely
tapped-out, it's miraculous that, yet again, Richard's allowed SNL to really
capture lightning in the bottle.
</p>
<p>
I phrase all of this as if the episode isn't hosted, in equal if not greater
part, by Richard's wife, Paula Prentiss, though I think that also lends more
credence to how much Richard vibes with the show; as he says in the
monologue, he enjoyed hosting last season so much that he <i>had</i> to
bring her along for another round. The dual hosting nature of the show is
rarely a huge factor in the material, but the fact that both Richard and
Paula can tap into a more low-key well of energy ensured that things always
struck a very nice tone. Paula, for her part, opens up room for the show to
do more female-oriented sketches, which feels refreshing in a season sorely
lacking in female hosts. She's put to her best use in the "assertiveness
training" sketch, an ensemble piece giving Gilda, Jane, and Laraine a shot
at great, lived-in character work with a decidedly feminist slant, taking
turns talking about the means in which they've succeeded and (largely)
failed to dismantle the misogyny in their lives. Although she plays a far
smaller role in the Jesus crush sketch, casting Gilda and Laraine as young
girls fantasizing about their competing crushes on Jesus Christ, I also find
it hard to believe it would get on the show if not for her presence guiding
the show away from the typical, male-driven avenues.
</p>
<p>
Richard is surprisingly a smidge less involved in the show, but he shines in
the two sketches he's provided in that idiosyncratic, nerdy, Richard
Benjamin sort of way. He submits some of the finest work he's ever submitted
to SNL in his "post-coital torture" sketch as a married man in the deepest
throes of paranoia in the wake of a one-night stand with another woman, his
strained attempts at politeness outweighed by a sinking feeling that he's
<i>really</i> done it this time. It's the way that Richard really lingers
onto every stilted, nervous word that sells the sketch ("You were fine. You
were just fine. You were terrific as always. Thank you, again. You're a very
nice person."), though Laraine submits equally-great work as the woman he
slept with who takes delight in toying with his nerves. The night's best
piece, though, finds both Richard and Paula joining forces as fans of Joey
Bishop who, when discovering their neighbors (Bill and Gilda) share the same
affection, explode into a frenzy over their shared fandom. Not only is it a
sublimely-acted piece that taps into every corner of its performers' range,
but it feels shockingly prescient of fan discourse within pop culture. It
captures that joy one feels in realizing that a complete stranger shares in
their devotion... but in the same stroke, it captures how slight variations
in perspective can cause them to drive each other up a goddamn wall. (As an
SNL fan, I know those streets far too well.)
</p>
<p>
All of that good does well to help overlook some of the more tedious parts
of the episode, which is fair enough. It's miraculous as is for a Season 5
episode to be pumped this full of goodness that I'm willing to ignore the
exhausting, convoluted, and potentially-racist Franken & Davis sketch
and another Mr. Bill segment. It's nice to know that, as this era dies down,
we at least got one more episode worth bragging about.
<i>(Penned 10/07/21)</i>
</p>
<div><b>GRADE: A.</b></div><div><br /></div><h2 style="text-align: left;">4/12/80: Burt Reynolds / Anne Murray (S5 E16)</h2>
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</div>
<p>
Burt Reynolds, by all accounts, didn't have the most amicable time his week
at SNL; despite inviting the writers to make fun of him, he walked out of
readthroughs in a complete hissy-fit that necessitated the written material
be gutted and re-worked to his vain specifications. It's all the more
impressive, then, that this episode comes across as a scathing indictment of
his machismo, granting him the opportunity to wear bigotry and misogyny on
his sleeve with a discomforting sense that those predispositions are not
only okay, but a part of why we're supposed to find Burt cool.
Unfortunately, as time has marched onwards and progressed us to a better
place, it's hard to look back upon the show starting off with a cold open
where Burt says the n-word and then violently beats Gilda against a locker
as remotely charming. It's certainly not.
</p>
<p>
Maybe it's best to just run down the night's string of grave follies before
moving into anything else (if there's anything else to move into). The
baffling post-monologue sketch sets the tone: Burt plays himself, taking a
limo to the front door of a suburban house in hopes of ensnaring some
prepubescent fans for grooming. All of this plays out to their parent's
excitement, failing to perceive the massive foul of the scenario, but the
scene never makes a point out of Burt being a pedophilic sex demon either.
Does that mean the joke is supposed to be everyone's naive giddiness towards
Burt's leering, sexual interest in the underaged daughters? There are some
fun performances to the piece if you strip it of its nauseating context, at
least, and that seems to suggest that everyone is aware of some deep
intentionality, but whatever that intent may be is lost completely in
translation. The "Deliverance II" sketch at least wears a sense of hacky
homophobia strongly enough on its sleeve that it can be easily understood as
exhaustingly low-concept, but that doesn't make the premise of everyone
putting on their best lisps to play gay campers passable. There's no
perspective to it, which as a flagrant Franken/Davis piece shouldn't come as
a surprise.
</p>
<p>
Everything else for Burt is secondary in dreadfulness, perhaps bearing a bit
more merit but ultimately still feeding into the gross, sleazefest vibes. I
sort of like the hyperspecificity of a sketch being set in an ancient Roman
vomitorium, but as much as I found some enjoyment in the extraneous detail,
it never finds a greater hook than Burt hitting on random women as they puke
their brains out. There's also a slice-of-life-ish sketch in the back-half
that finds Burt getting into a fight with Gilda over not introducing her to
some of his friends at a party, though naturally, the concept of escalation
with this week's host is to strangle her until she cries, and then ask her
to have sex with him. Was America really this broken that this episode could
successfully reinforce Burt's image as a macho sex icon?
</p>
<p>
There is one good sketch in tonight's mix, and it's the only live piece not
to feature Burt in it: the "Peppers" sketch, with Laraine and a ragtag gang
of cool, self-professed Dr. Pepper fans working to win the understanding and
eventual allyship of her parents in devoting their lives to the soda brand.
Everything else is just varying degrees of misery. <i>(Penned 10/08/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: D.</b></p>
<h2>4/19/80: Strother Martin / The Specials (S5 E17)</h2>
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</div>
<p>
Character actors always make for the most underrated of SNL hosts. They're
not here to act flashy or hog the limelight; they much prefer being team
players, which unsurprisingly tends to enable SNL to be its absolute best.
Less than catering to the whims of a specific host or having to hide them in
the background, a character actor host just wants to indoctrinate themselves
into the show, as much of a part of it as the rest of the cast while
exercising the immaculate range and commitment that comes with their craft.
Strother Martin embodies some of the best of what hosts of his breed can
pull off, and he's all the more charming for it.
</p>
<div>
<div>
Strother's an intrinsically strange host for the program, but a rather
sweet one; when Lorne was soliciting the cast and crew for hosts and
musical guests they wanted to work with, Jim Downey suggested him. That
sense that he's a host that everyone was enthused to have offers the
material and performances across his episode an ever greater sense of
joyful creativity—it was a damn fun night that everyone wanted to have. I
can think of no better example of that intoxicating synergy than the video
will sketch, casting Strother as a dying man whose recording of a video
will surely but steadily morphs into a late night talk show; it's as silly
as it committed, and Strother's charismatic-as-hell performance keeps it
feeling invigorating in spite of its runtime. I can't think of any other
host who could sell the material as well as him—by the point in the sketch
that Strother announces that he's had <i>so much fun</i> working with his
impromptu talk show crew that he's giving them all of his inheritance
instead of his family, I believed it. (Similarly, while I haven't seen
<i>Cool Hand Luke</i>, which is perhaps crucial to understanding the
French camp piece, there was enough fun in the concept and everyone's
performances that it worked in lieu of that cultural reference.)
</div>
</div>
<p>
Elsewhere, he slips perfectly into more supporting roles, all teeming with
as much life as his main ones. The conductor club sketch borders on thin,
however well-observed, but it's the sight of Strother waving his baton
around so manically that it accidentally flies out of his hand that makes
things all worth it. He's similarly great in "Invasion of the Body
Snatchers," though admittedly the strength of that sketch rests less on his
characterization so much as the brilliance of its satirical concept. SNL's
made its feelings about Reagan known pretty loudly across the last two
seasons, but there's no piece as ambitious or scathing as this one,
revealing his campaign strategies to be the deployment of body-snatching
alien eggs that force their new meat puppets to lifelessly recite
conservative rhetoric. Under any circumstance, Strother makes the most of
his screen time, big or small.
</p>
<p>
Round out the night with some wildly fun ska performances from The Specials
(fuck me, I can dig ska) and a cool film by Edie Baskin and you've got one
of the finest evenings of this season. You could argue it's not too great of
an accomplishment against the iffy quality of S5, but if anything, that
makes the success of an episode that much more rewarding.
<i>(Penned 10/12/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A-.</b></p>
<h2>
5/10/80: Bob Newhart / The Amazing Rhythm Aces, Bruce Cockburn (S5 E18)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
When there's a name like Bob Newhart hosting the show and he does just
alright, it's impossible not to wish that the night was better. Perhaps
that's an unfair argument to levy—have I not seen how <i>rough</i> this
season tends to be, and shouldn't I just be grateful that this one is
functional and at times good? All of that's totally fair, but SNL tends to
be a victim of the bar that its host sets. If this sort of episode fell upon
a host like Bill Russell, and he carried himself through it like a pro, it'd
be a revelation... but this is Bob Newhart, someone who can carry the show
in his sleep. One would hope for a bit more than an episode that functions
dutifully but never surprises.
</p>
<div>
Perhaps a part of that is the show working to match Bob's voice as a
comedian, which it does well but rarely to perfect effect. One of the best
pieces he gets is "The Dating Zone," but it suffers from feeling like an
amalgamated concept. Is it a character piece, centered upon Bob's awkward
interactions with the three ladies he's asking vetted questions? Or is it
some parody of <i>The Twilight Zone</i>, where Bob has been tricked and
trapped into playing a game show that he has no desire to be the center of?
Neither side quite wins over the other, but everyone's performances carry it
across that conceptual indecisiveness, allowing it to be enjoyable if not as
much of a spectacle as it promises. Bob similarly submits his deadpan to the
war letter and date sketches, and once again, the performances will the
pieces into working, but they don't feel all that successful by the virtue
of their own thoughtfulness. Both have decent beats, but neither equates to
the sum of its parts.
</div>
<p>
So what worked better? Well, I quite enjoyed "Dave's Variety Store," casting
Bob and Gilda as a husband-wife pairing who fulfill the absurdist requests
of their customers in between low-key chit-chat; the combination of absolute
deadpan and the never-ending onslaught of increasingly bizarre prop comedy
(a white chocolate crossbow, square basketballs, a frozen turtle in an ice
block) that just works, with every character interaction offering needed
variance against the repetition that the conceit threatens to bear. I also
feel like, as much as I prefer to ignore him, it's worth mentioning
Franken's infamous "Limo for a Lame-o" Update commentary, most certainly the
most cutting piece he's ever contributed to the show. I'd be remiss not to
mention another uncalled-for dunk on poor Garrett, but it's a historically
fascinating moment in the show's history that feels as gleefully dirty then
as it does now; the boldness of SNL to do a piece so nasty that it literally
torpedoes itself as a consequence has got to be one of the most
quintessentially anarchic things that this era of the show has ever
done.
</p>
<p>
Outside of that stuff, though, it's a shame that Bob couldn't host SNL
during the prime of its early years. Here's hoping he can be better served
when he comes back in the dreaded Season 20. <i>(Penned 10/13/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<h2>5/17/80: Steve Martin / 3-D, Paul and Linda McCartney (S5 E19)</h2>
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</div>
<p>
It's disappointing, but perhaps a bit emblematic of his stints during the
original era of the show, that Steve's final hosting stint with this cast is
a bit of a dud. It's not really anybody's fault: Steve, as always, exerts
his zany energy to will material into watchability when it threatens to be
even too silly for his standards, and the writers try to flank him with
ideas that cater to his specific brand of comic observation and irreverence.
Everything just feels... labored by this point. Both the show and Steve know
what they can do for each other, and they don't take this final go as a
challenge to top itself so much as a chance to coast through a penultimate
week of reliability. But why try, I suppose, if this show is more Paul
McCartney's than Steve's?
</p>
<p>
Yes, after five grueling seasons of viciously trying to court a Beatles
reunion, Lorne was able to get the next best thing: Paul, live by satellite
from London, debuting a music video for his funky new single, "Coming Up."
Did the show give him anything better to do than come out of his house with
Linda after several meandering, fake-out segments from Father Guido
Sarducci? No. But I suppose it's more about the destination than the journey
sometimes, and Don Novello tries his best with the nondescript material he's
given, throwing rocks at Paul's window and shouting a medley of Beatles
songs at his bedroom with a bullhorn. Quaint stuff.
</p>
<p>
The prospects of Paul are at least more exciting than what the episode is
generally able to pull together for Steve, no matter how enthusiastic it
tries to be. "Real Incredible People" is a cute exercise in hyperbole, with
a group of excitable panelists teetering with joy over increasingly mundane
and undeserving subjects, but there isn't a great amount of meat on the bone
and it veers itself into unnecessary directions. (Garrett is trotted out on
stage on account of having "very dark brown skin.") Better was the sketch
featuring Bill and Steve as two hooligans who break into houses not to steal
anything, but to make a general mess (which then has to be tended to by
their equally gun-toting mothers), though it won't make the history books,
either. The rest of the night summated to Steve being used as a Steve is
used, whether that means playing an intellectual caveman or a deer
struggling to cross the road; the best of those scraps, an advert helmed by
Gilda for an aging songstress' bitter, middle-aged songs, doesn't feature
Steve at all.
</p>
<div>
It's a shame that Steve culminates this leg of his run with the show with
such a nondescript outing, but I can't blame the show for wanting to just
have some good times with this original era's time so clearly running out.
Even if I was never the highest on a lot of his episodes, too, it's
impossible to deny that Steve is a comedian built for SNL, and he's already
established a remarkable body of work the likes of which any repeat host
could only dream of having. With that being said, I welcome what future
Steve episodes have to offer with open arms, and I'm excited to see how he
finds his way into the increased cerebrality of the late '80s and early '90s
SNL. <i>(Penned 10/22/21)</i>
</div>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<h2>
5/24/80: Buck Henry / Andrew Gold, Andrae Crouch & the Voices of Unity
(S5 E20)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
And so we reach the end of our first leg with Buck Henry's tenth and final
hosting gig. Even if this final episode of the original era isn't firing off
on all cylinders, it's an undoubtedly bittersweet occasion. Before I even
get into the fact that this is our last big hurrah for this cast, most of
whom will never return to the studio again, I wanna talk about Buck one last
time: this being his final episode is almost as sad as it being this cast's.
For as iffy as his episodes could get, he was the definitive host of this
era to me, more so than the heralded Steve Martin; he played ball to all of
the show's whims, no matter what it necessitated that he did, and he never
threatened to overshadow the cast so much as reinforce their excellence.
</p>
<p>
Perhaps it's no surprise, then, that so much of this episode is made up of
ensemble pieces, casting him in roles of every degree of significance. In
sketches like one final outing for Nick the Lounge Singer, or "Week in
Review," he merely sits back and lets the funny happen around him, whereas
in a sketch like the series-closing "Mommy Beer," he's just one of the lads,
lip-syncing along to a silly, fictitious beer jingle with the rest of the
male cast. Buck shines the brightest, though, in this episode's legendary
"Lord and Lady Douchebag" sketch, a full-cast piece sprawling with silly,
pun-laden details that all part way as soon as he walks in with Gilda and
enables a delightful series of earnestly-delivered crudities. That's some
prime Buck right there. Not to be outdone, Buck also gets one final Uncle
Roy sketch to properly anchor all on his own, and while I'd like to pretend
these don't work for me... they always do, somehow. (That last exchange
between Buck and Jane about how "there's more [Uncle Roys] than you might
expect" is a nice, biting capper to the trilogy.)
</p>
<p>
The night is otherwise peppered with "one last ride" vibes, and whereas I'm
perhaps not clamoring for just one more round from Chico Escuela or Roseanne
Rosannadanna, they add to a nice sense of finality. (It's certainly easier
to appreciate than this episode's massive clunker, "The Cow Minder's
Daughter," which seemingly just exists to do some brownface and ethnic
caricatures one last time.) None of these bits are remarkable, but there's
enough goodwill with the occasion that they feel special. After all, what
better way to conclude an era than to dig back into what made it so beloved
at the time?
</p>
<p>
Perhaps the most unique artifact of this episode is its monologue, with Buck
trotting out "the next season's cast," played by an assortment of writers,
extras, and Don Pardo; it's not particularly funny, perhaps due to how
jokingly earnest it plays out, it definitely hits in a very strange, quietly
sad way to know just how much the cast turnover only a few months away would
rock SNL off of its axis for the next several, Lorne-less seasons. I could
see it being another bit of classic SNL navel-gazing, but against the
uncertainty of the show's future—Lorne knew by this point that the reins
wouldn't be passed off to those he was hoping it would—there's a troubling
bit of insincerity, like it's trying to tell viewers that everything will be
alright even when the show's not convinced of that itself. I can forgive
that of the show, though, and that dark cloud is but a small, if poignant,
part of the night. And if nothing else, it's another reminder that, for all
the ups and downs of the past five seasons of SNL, I'll miss it. Onwards,
into this scary next chapter! <i>(Penned 11/03/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">Cumulative Season Rankings:</h2>
<div>
<b>1.</b> Richard Benjamin & Paula Prentiss / Grateful Dead (A)<br /><b>2.</b> Strother Martin / The Specials (A-)<br /><b>3.</b> Buck Henry /
Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers (B+)<br /><b>4.</b> Steve Martin /
Blondie (B+)<br /><b>5.</b> Bea Arthur / The Roches (B)<br /><b>6.</b> Buck Henry / Andrew Gold, Andrae Crouch and the Voices of Unity
(B) <br /><b>7.</b> Bob Newhart / The Amazing Rhythm Aces, Bruce
Cockburn (B)<br /><b>8.</b> Martin Sheen / David Bowie (B-)<br /><b>9.</b> Ted Knight / Desmond Child & Rouge (B-)<br /><b>10.</b> Eric
Idle / Bob Dylan (B-)<br /><b>11.</b> 100th episode (no host) / Paul
Simon & James Taylor, David Sanborn (B-)<br /><b>12.</b> Rodney
Dangerfield / The J Geils Band (C+)<br /><b>13.</b> Howard Hesseman /
Randy Newman (C+)<br /><b>14.</b> Steve Martin / Paul and Linda
McCartney, 3-D (C+)<br /><b>15.</b> Kirk Douglas / Sam & Dave
(C+)<br /><b>16.</b> Elliott Gould / Gary Numan (C+)<br /><b>17.</b> Bill Russell / Chicago (C+)<br /><b>18.</b> Teri Garr / The
B-52s (C)<br /><b>19.</b> Chevy Chase / Marianne Faithfull (D)<br /><b>20.</b> Burt Reynolds / Anne Murray (D)
</div>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE SKETCHES:<br />10.</b> "All Time Radio" (S5E11 / Elliott
Gould)<br /><b>9. </b>"Video Will" (S5E17 / Strother Martin)<br /><b>8.</b> "Driving" (S5E04 / Buck Henry)<br /><b>7.</b> "Lord and Lady
Douchebag" (S5E20 / Buck Henry #2)<br /><b>6.</b> "Jesus Crush" (S5E15
/ Richard Benjamin & Paula Prentiss)<br /><b>5.</b> "Java Junkie"
(S5E08 / Ted Knight)<br /><b>4.</b> "Dark Shadows" (S5E07 / Martin
Sheen)<br /><b>3.</b> "Post-Coital Torture" (S5E15 / Richard Benjamin
& Paula Prentiss) <br /><b>2.</b> "Substitute Judge" (S5E13 /
Rodney Dangerfield)<br /><b>1.</b> "Joey Bishop Fans" (S5E15 / Richard
Benjamin & Paula Prentiss)
</p>
<p>
<b>Other great sketches:</b> "Great Moments in Rock History" and "What
the Hell is That?" (S5E01 / Steve Martin); "Shoe Store" (S5E02 / Eric Idle);
"The Black Shadow" (S5E03 / Bill Russell); "Matchmaker Nerd" (S5E04 / Buck
Henry); "Murder" (S5E07 / Martin Sheen); "Christmas Decorations" (S5E08 /
Ted Knight); "Assertiveness Training" (S5E15 / Richard Benjamin & Paula
Prentiss); "Peppers" (S5E16 / Burt Reynolds); "Invasion of the Brain
Snatchers" (S5E17 / Strother Martin).
</p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE MUSICAL PERFORMANCES:<br />10.</b> Andrew Gold (S5E20 /
Buck Henry #2)<br /><b>9.</b> The J. Geils Band (S5E13 / Rodney
Dangerfield)<br /><b>8.</b> Andrae Crouch & The Voices of Unity
(S5E20 / Buck Henry #2)<br /><b>7.</b> The Amazing Rhythm Aces (S5E18 /
Bob Newhart)<br /><b>6.</b> Gary Numan (S5E11 / Elliott Gould)<br /><b>5. </b>Sam & Dave (S5E12 / Kirk Douglas)<br /><b>4.</b> The Roches (S5E05
/ Bea Arthur)<br /><b>3.</b> The B-52s (S5E09 / Teri Garr)<br /><b>2.</b> The Specials (S5E17 / Strother Martin)<br /><b>1.</b> David
Bowie (S5E07 / Martin Sheen)
</p>
<p><b>SEASON GRADE AVERAGE: C+.</b></p>
<p>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">Follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>!</i>
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;"><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 1</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 2</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-reviewed-and-ranked.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 3</a><br style="font-style: normal;" /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/09/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 4</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><b>Season 5</b></span><br style="font-style: normal;" /><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 6</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/03/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 7</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 8</a><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 9</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 10</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 11</a><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 12</a></span></i></div><p></p>
</div>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-2054914851554586482021-09-19T15:27:00.001-05:002021-09-19T15:27:04.537-05:00Summer Camp Island Review: Shave a Little Off the Wheel / He's Just Not Here Right Now<p></p>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"I'm feelin' a little heavy-hearted."</span></i></b></span>
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<p>
Ready the mince pies and pack up your toilet paper rolls! Today's
<i>SCI </i>reviews are for "Shave a Little Off the Wheel" and "He's Just Not
Here Right Now." Let's get on into it!
</p>
<p>
One of <i>Summer Camp Island's</i> greatest gifts is its ability to imbue
even the most fleeting characters with such a deep sense of inner life, and
I can't think of an episode to demonstrate that better than
<b>"Shave a Little Off the Wheel."</b> It's a strange entry into the show's
catalog; set against the backdrop of a wintry holiday called the "Holly
Harvest," our focus immediately shifts from Oscar and Hedgehog to
Cookiesmell, the mouse living in the wall of Oscar's cabin, making a
small-scale adventure to shave a little cheese off of the cheese wheel in
the cafeteria kitchen.<span></span>
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Although every Holly Harvest he makes the journey for his kids, this year
there's a new stipulation: the already dangerous trip—leaving him at the mercy
of some textbook slice-and-dicing if he gets caught—has been exacerbated by
the high heels that his kids have jokingly glued to his feet. (Admittedly,
though, Cookiesmell loves them.) That's when he makes a chance encounter with a
snowflake, naturally named Snowflake, who possesses the innate power to muffle
the sounds of his clacking heels. They're a pairing that works because of how
much of a touching dynamic both Cookiesmell and Snowflake have, and despite
their relatively simple characterizations, they're conceived with a lot of
heart. Snowflake, especially, gets a rather thoughtful bit of back-story,
declaring that in the sea of identical snowflakes, she wants new life purpose
beyond falling and landing and melting, even if only for a day. That makes her a perfect partner to Cookiesmell, whose annual travel plans have
suddenly turned from a source of nervous jitters to a source of newfound joy,
scampering across the food hall and kitchen with her in palpable glee.
<p></p>
That's also what makes the sudden moment where Snowflake melts that much more
of a sucker punch. It's a moment made all the more affecting by how "Shave a
Little" doesn't play it off as particularly maudlin. Cookiesmell doesn't cry
out at the sight of her having turned into a droplet from reclining next to a
mug—he merely sighs and quietly forwards his evacuation plan with a lump in
his stomach. It's a moment that bears a heavy heart, if one that Oscar and
Hedgehog do their best to mend with the reminder that she's not truly gone. She's merely evaporated back into the atmosphere, and soon she'll be snow again. It's
a bittersweet end to the journey, but sometimes you just need to try out a new
look.
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That's also why I really appreciate the ending of the episode, as subdued as
it is. I feel like it offers us a greater context of what Cookiesmell's life
is like, returning home to his rowdy children who devour his cheese shaving
about as unceremoniously as his friendship with Snowflake concluded. But it
doesn't weigh on him, ultimately; he's a dorky dad mouse who's quietly proud
of his dorkiness and unruffled by the indifference his children bring to the
story of his adventure that they tacitly ask about. They might refuse to
indulge his heartfelt ode to Snowflake, but he fulfills the narrative to
himself in spite of their pleas of its boringness, and he allows his heart to
be exposed. It's far from a conventionally happy ending (a part of myself was
expecting Snowflake to re-emerge), but it's a poignant one. While we may
never see Cookiesmell or Snowflake again, "Shave a Little" offers a gorgeous
window into the most stirring days of their lives, and there's something to
appreciate about that.
<p></p>
<b>"He's Just Not Here Right Now"</b> similarly captures a small moment
in time, with its simple plot bookending an extensive flashback to a camping trip, though it doesn't work
quite as well. I think a large part of that is that, despite having strong
ideas that it's working with, it struggles to really assess their value as the
narrative progresses. The end result certainly reflects a story, as if pulled
from real life—Oscar endures a small crisis of identity, but this is quickly
overturned in place of a fear that defines the rest of his story—but it also
feels like it could've been pushed along a bit further.
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Fortunately, there's still a lot of natural charms to the idea. Upon
discovering that Susie and the witches are going to cut down a small pine
barren on their island to make room for a brand new witch sauna, Oscar and
Hedgehog recount a tale from the Pine Barrens of their native New Jersey. It's
a cool proposition for a lot of reasons. For one, we get to see Osc-Hog as
adorable children, as defined by their usual characteristics as they are by a
broader naivete, but we also get to step away from the island and explore the
world as the two characters understood it to be before they were truly aware
of the magic around them. We also get to see more of Oscar's father, Andy, who
continues to be endearing in spite of his
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2020/06/summer-camp-island-review-acorn.html">infrequent usage by the show</a>; most sweetly, when he notices his son feeling gloomy due to not getting to paddle their
canoe, he doesn't console his son so much as make a legitimate, sincere case
for his significance as the canoe's "special little sack of potatoes."
<p>
Andy also weaves out the tale of the Jersey Devil to his two kids, a
creature with cloven hooves, arguably just the body of a horse, and an
ongoing prowl through the pine barrens for other peoples' sandwiches
("because sandwiches always taste better when someone else makes them"). For
as much as the Jersey Devil is the ultimate point of the story, though, his
presence also derails the episode's character work. As we settle into
something of a curious conflict with Oscar, who wounds up being emotionally
wounded when he sees two other campers describing the frivolousness of his
canoe position, "He's Just Not Here" makes a strange backpedal from further
exploring or rectifying that dilemma in favor of exploring Oscar and
Hedgehog's fear of the Jersey Devil for the final act. It's a perfectly fine
way to go, and indeed a necessary one considering the point of Oscar
recounting the story to Susie... but it also serves to invalidate some of
the episode's choices in direction, something which feels even more
disappointing as the Jersey Devil ends on a bit of an anticlimax. Oscar and
Hedgehog stay up all night out of fear, and although they discover their
sandwiches to have mysteriously vanished, they didn't catch so much as a
glimpse of the Jersey Devil at all.
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That's because, as Susie condescendingly points out to them, the Jersey Devil
is invisible, a revelation that bears the good fortune of allowing for "He's
Just Not Here" to wrap itself up in a pretty delightful way:
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2020/06/summer-camp-island-review-molar-moles.html">lawyer Hedgehog is back</a>! It's undeniable fun to see Hedgehog getting another opportunity to flex her
wits with some cross-examination, making the case that although Susie's
rationale for cutting down the pine barrens is that the Jersey Devil never
showed up, maybe he's actually been there this entire time. Considering how
often Hedgehog has been a relatively passive presence this season, too, it's a
treat to see her send this episode home and resolve the episode while playing
to her greatest strengths. I just wish more of this episode could've gotten a
similarly elegant resolution.
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<p></p>
As we approach the homestretch of the season, it's interesting to look back on the sort of trends we've been seeing, and I think both "Shave a Little Off the Wheel" and "He's Just Not Here Right Now" speak to the two sides of this season. On one hand, <i>SCI </i>is dedicated to bold experimentation, whether that means introducing new characters, working to a greater degree with underutilized, pre-established ones, or reconsidering the show's DNA entirely with episodes like "<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/summer-camp-island-review-sea-bunnies.html">Sea Bunnies</a>" or "<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/08/summer-camp-island-review-oscar-his.html">Oscar & His Demon</a>." On the other hand, though, we've also tended to get more conventional fare that isn't advancing the show so much as finding more variations on your typical narrative, and while such episodes remain enjoyable, they feel rather safe and low-stakes, lacking a strong central concept or the motivation to really elaborate upon the world of the show. <i>Summer Camp Island</i> is, and will always be, endlessly charming, but I'm hoping that the final few episodes allow those concepts of reinvention to roam free. That's what always serves the show best, and keeps it such a joy to return to.</div><div>
<p><b>FINAL GRADES:<br />"Shave a Little Off the Wheel": A-.<br />"He's Just Not Here Right Now": B-.</b></p><p>
<i>For my last reviews of "Jeremiah" and "Tomorrow's Bananas,"
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/08/summer-camp-island-review-jeremiah.html">CLICK HERE</a>.</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>If you like my stuff, be sure to follow me on Twitter
<a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>.</i>
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Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-54360111081001928592021-09-11T20:10:00.010-05:002023-10-15T01:10:44.927-05:00Saturday Night Live, Ranked and Reviewed: Season 4<p></p>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"What [are] we gonna do now?" "What else? We're Greeks. We...
dance!"</span></i></b></span>
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<p></p>
<p>
With Season 3 being, by all accounts, the best of the original era—and by
accounts that I stand by—I was apprehensive of the season that followed. We've
hit critical mass; John Belushi is a bonafide star, and alongside Dan Aykroyd,
he's on his way out. At the same time, the show's become more self-satisfied
and secure with its place in television, a trait that suggests promise but so
often translates to SNL as poison. This season is also one of pronounced
experimentation, with its interests shifting more towards slice-of-life
sketches, epics, and full ensemble affairs... though that daring spirit
doesn't quite translate to its slim rotation of special guests (Father Guido
Sarducci, Franken & Davis, Mr. Bill).
</p>
<p>
Does it persevere through these radical changes, or does it succumb to its
fleeting desires? Here's what I thought, episode by episode!
</p>
<p>
For my reviews of the preceding season, Season 3,
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-reviewed-and-ranked.html">CLICK HERE</a>!<span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p>
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10/07/78: The Rolling Stones (S4 E01)
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<p>
Going into its fourth season, there's a sense that SNL is as assured as it
could possibly be, and given the circumstances, why wouldn't it be? John
Belushi returns, hot off of <i>Animal House</i>, as a bona-fide comedy
superstar, the Rolling Stones are in the building to play along with the show
and jam out, and Mayor Ed Koch walks out onto the monologue stage to declare
SNL a beloved cultural institution and a source of pride for the city of New
York. So perhaps its unsurprising that, amidst that fervor, SNL's main message
seems to simply be, "We're back and we've got nothing to prove!" And truly,
while the episode lacks desperation, its confidence lends itself to a bit of a
conceited feel.
</p>
<p>
Part of that weirdness might've also been exacerbated by how non-committal the
night was with its hosts. There's probably broader reasons for the Rolling
Stones' lack of screen time, but even then, the show didn't really find
intriguing ways to participate. Like, I've never been a huge fan of those
<i>Tomorrow</i> sketches, however much they seem to whip the audience into a
frenzy; Tom Snyder works best against some sort of hyper-specific character
(Art Garfunkel's traumatized victim, or Jane as his identical-sounding
mother), but trotting him out with the celebrity guest of the week to be
quietly self-effacing doesn't allow for anything particularly gripping. I
guess it's exciting just because Mick Jagger is there, but was this really the
best way he could've been integrated into the show this evening? He's Mick
Jagger; the last thing I want to see him do is sit and talk. Ron Wood and
Charlie Watts, similarly, make pointless cameos in the night's "Olympia Cafe"
piece, especially odd given the more dramatic sensibilities of this particular
outing. They're here to put on a mini-concert, of course, and they do a fine
enough job I suppose—Mick Jagger saunters around, licks Ron Wood, whips his
band around with a jacket and rips his shirt as contractually obligated—but
they didn't help the episode's sketches feel particularly charged.
</p>
<p>
As far as highlights are concerned, I feel like not a ton worked well for me
even if most of the night was inoffensive. The cold open was probably the most
I enjoyed the episode, which is insane to say as someone who just watched
Season 46; Garrett and the ladies of SNL singing a paean to NBC's chime jingle
backed by Howard Shore was as lovely a way to kick of the season as you could
get. The aforementioned "Olympia Cafe" sketch also did some cool, dedicated
world-building, with John's ignoble return to the cafe after being gifted a
meager inheritance providing a nice touch of drama. As I've said before, too,
John's at his best when he's doing more dramatic work, instead of going off on
his repetitive outbursts (something the episode doesn't spare us from in the
monologue).
</p>
<p>
Other things were at least admirable, if not sizzling hot. The Nerds sketch is
apparently a classic but it was all performance without quite enough substance
for me; there's certainly something to be said about how everyone was locked
into such specific characterizations, but when there's no real end goal, it's
a bit ungratifying. Bill Murray's Weekend Update debut didn't do a ton for me
either, even if I think there's some room for him to grow into an enjoyable
enough co-anchor; I just don't think his persona is the most applicable to the
format, and him doing things like botching the Point-Counterpoint by politely
acquiescing to Jane aren't super funny. And Schiller's "Sushi By the
Pool" film was interesting, I think, even if I don't know what to really make
of it; I suppose it's some commentary on the vacuous, hedonistic celebrity
culture being ignorant of real-world problems, but it's more curious than
hilarious.
</p>
<p>
Overall, while this premiere was confident, I can't say that it really clued
me in on what the next season could be like. Hopefully we can get a better
idea of that in the episodes to come. <i>(Penned 7/16/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
10/14/78: Fred Willard / Devo (S4 E02)
</h2>
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</div>
<p></p>
<p>
I've stood by the opinion that, despite my lack of deep knowledge about him,
Fred Willard is one of the most luminously charming actors of his mold. He was
the sort of character actor who would just pop up in whatever comedy show I
was watching and be immediately endearing, an ability that could be used to both schmaltzy (<i>Modern Family</i>) and devastating (Andy Daly's
<i>Review</i>) effect. Naturally, I had very high hopes for Fred entering one
of my favorite TV ecosystems, and while it's not the most accessible episode
of SNL ever produced, it's undoubtedly a fascinating one that feels sharpened
to his abilities.
</p>
<div>
It was hard for me to warm up to this episode, and indeed, it didn't take
until my second viewing for me to be aligned with what the show was going for,
but there's a lot to appreciate. It just necessitates a lot of patience;
whereas I tend to expect one slower piece a night from this era, tonight was
at its best when it keyed into subtler writing and nuanced performances. The
bedroom scene between Laraine and Fred, for instance, was incredibly
well-done; Laraine seems to have become an anchor for slice-of-life pieces
lately, and she continues to excel here as a woman haunted by an old flame
while her latest hook-up (Fred) tries to respectfully navigate his way out of
the situation. It's not the most demanding role for Fred, but one of his
greatest strengths is digging into his characters, something he deploys to
great effect throughout the rest of the night's material whether or not his
presence is the most crucial ingredient. (His roles as the director in
Belushi's vanity stuntman sketch and the pastor in "Crossroads" keep both of
the sketches afloat.)
</div>
<p>
The best piece of the night, though, was the "Scotch Boutique" sketch. It's a
piece I'd heard a lot about but which I didn't know what to expect of, and it
certainly took a moment to adjust to its very subdued, more dramatic tone, but
it's surprisingly affecting. It takes an absurd idea that should theoretically
veer the sketch towards wackiness—a store owned by Fred that, with the
exception of a copy machine, only sells Scotch tape—and examines the human
core of the employees trying to keep it afloat. Dan, Jane, and the rest of the
cast offer some nice walk-on roles that keep the sketch on its toes, but what
makes it work is the quiet heartbreak between Fred and Gilda, his cashier and
wife whose struggling to believe in his dreams, and whose trust he fights to
win back. I can only imagine the sort of reaction this piece got from casual
viewers of modern-day SNL when it aired as the vintage episode in light of
Fred's passing; by all accounts, most of the choices made for the hour cut
were fairly safe, but I'm glad this one was intact, startling as it may be.
</p>
<p>
Last but not least: Devo! I can't get over how ballsy it must be for a
completely unknown band to go onto SNL the week after the Rolling Stones, and
then play a radically-reconstructed version of a Rolling Stones song. It's
even more insane that Devo absolutely shows them up, twitching their way
through some absolutely stellar performances that challenged the audience as
much as it ultimately enraptured them. They sound as electrifying as they did
in 1978. It's an appropriately atypical, gratifying musical performance for an
appropriately atypical, gratifying night. <i>(Penned 7/19/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
10/21/78: Frank Zappa (S4 E03)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
Sometimes I just want a disaster episode to be a proper disaster. Perhaps, in
light of finding the mythically-bad Louise Lasser episode to be more tense and
problematic than intolerable, I should've expected Frank Zappa not to live up
to his legends either. Don't get me wrong: this is a rough episode where both
the host and the cast seem exclusively committed to the shared goal of getting
the episode to end. Unfortunately, though, it doesn't leave you with any of the fun of a disaster
so much as the frustrating monotony of an episode that's interesting in theory
but seldom in practice.
</p>
<p>
First, let's talk about Frank. Someone else online put it best: everyone at
SNL loved Frank and treated him as a weird rock star but Frank is, in fact, an
experimental musician who takes his work incredibly seriously, and as someone
who is staunchly anti-drug, he was made miserable by the druggie environment
of the writer's room (which repeatedly failed to entertain his ideas). He's
subsequently an awful host, delivering his lines disconcertingly and mugging
at the camera non-stop, but he never truly derails the show so much as refuse
to sync with the show's sense of rhythm. (Perhaps that's a testament to the
cast's ability to keep things going; in the Coneheads sketch especially, Dan
is very clearly trying to push through his lack of cooperation.) With that
being said, the show did him absolutely no favors across any of the material
that was crafted for him, or even most of the material cobbled together
without his involvement. It feels like everyone is phoning the show in because
they were disappointed that it wasn't what they hoped it would be, which I
suppose is fair when everyone is so clearly unhappy, but to say Frank sunk the
show doesn't do a service to how bad the output already was.
</p>
<p>
I mean, marvel at the night's big Halloween epic sketch, "Night on Freak
Mountain," where Frank just repeatedly stresses he doesn't do drugs while
being surrounded by drugs for <i>almost ten minutes</i>! Or Franken and
Davis's lethargic political attack ad shtick for <i>six</i>! Even the night's
mainstay Coneheads bit feels aimless, and that's before Frank walks onto the
set as himself and just does his Frank thing—it's like firing a torpedo at a
ship that's already sinking. "Woman to Woman" is a tiny bit better, with
Gilda's cocky career woman interviewing a housewife in hopes of satiating her
own ego, but the concept is more interesting than the laughless execution.
There's exactly one good sketch here, with Bill and Gilda's suburban family
housing a pack of criminals in their suburban home.
</p>
<p>
Outside of that, Frank does thankfully commit himself to the one area that
matters the most to him. His three musical performances this episode are
delightful, with "Rollo" especially being one of my favorites that I've seen
from the show up to this point; John's call-in-response as Futaba, ironically,
felt a lot more locked-in than last time, despite the fact that everyone was
undoubtedly on better terms there. But yeah, this episode was disappointing,
and while it's probably for the best that SNL didn't cave in on itself so much
as it trudged sleepily to the goodnights... I'll be holding out hope for
Milton Berle to give me the aggressive misery I foolishly desire.
<i>(Penned 7/20/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: D+.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
11/04/78: Steve Martin / Van Morrison (S4 E04)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggiCHIyFYVo6nEEJrTx3gCjzFmT2_s-wSxn6uSBoPuxrn18OyVoxFZkBgJG69Hy2BF_OdelXBkLm00edSfVwVT5O0QCgfBIqunUx5X6twkLIXDI9QGGiq8x5VMosaLjFzlMkhPQ5TwR8Q/s2048/Screenshot+%252811569%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggiCHIyFYVo6nEEJrTx3gCjzFmT2_s-wSxn6uSBoPuxrn18OyVoxFZkBgJG69Hy2BF_OdelXBkLm00edSfVwVT5O0QCgfBIqunUx5X6twkLIXDI9QGGiq8x5VMosaLjFzlMkhPQ5TwR8Q/s16000/Screenshot+%252811569%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
Back for his sixth hosting stint in just over two years, it's clear that SNL's
hit a point of peak comfort with Steve Martin. He's already got a killer body
of work with the show, a handful of well-liked recurring bits to keep mining,
and the ability to imbue an evening with an infectiously wacky energy that
enables the best out of every performer that he interacts with. That's where
most of the night's fun comes from, if not the sketches on the page—Steve is a
natural, and after the fevered pitch of his last episode, we're at a nice
crossroads of peak efficiency and nice surprises.
</p>
<p>
Tonight was pretty strongly composed of recurring material, to good and meh
effect. The monologue is probably the best, following in the footsteps of his
last by casting Bill as comedic support. Whereas the last one was more intent
on Steve's manic energy, though, this one was a perfectly-executed slow burn,
with Steve's dog-esque treat conditioning of Bill sparking duress as soon as
the treats stop. (Also, Bill does a fantastic job of holding his own against
Steve, perhaps no surprise considering the post-show future that lay ahead of
him. That ring of fire bit was as impressive as it was insane.) It's also fun
to see the Festrunk brothers back in action, and a little bittersweet knowing
that this is the last time we'll see these two during Dan's tenure. With the
last two installments being rather derivative of each other, it was great to
see the characters committing their silly brand of overconfident faux-pas in a
more specific situation. Besides, what better way is there to see those two
crazy swingers at work than watching them actually take shots at women?
Lastly, the Nerds score one of their best outings yet; Steve was a nice
addition to the sketch-verse in his last episode as "Chaz the Spazz," but this
sequel gives him far more to do and a far more engaging scenario, fighting
with Todd over a hospitalized Lisa. (Just do your best to gloss
over more trademark degrading character work for Garrett...)
</p>
<p>
The rest of the night's recurring material was okay, hard to complain about
but hard to really praise either. Theodoric returns, this time as a lawyer,
but the formula is somehow even less effective, perhaps because the concept is
a massive step back. (One of the main comedic beats was seeing if Laraine
would sink or float to determine her guiltiness, which isn't even a fresh
idea... not that Al Franken was assed to care based off of his smug background
performance here.) "What If?" also makes a strange return; it's a sketch that
should theoretically work, posing inane and anachronistic questions and aiming
to answer them with the utmost degree of seriousness, but whereas this
installment is better than the weak debut, it ends up being similarly
boring.
</p>
<p>
It's not the smoothest Steve Martin outing, but it's certainly not a bad one,
with just a bit more good than bad. It'll be interesting to see how he applies
himself to the final season of this original era. <i>(Penned 7/23/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
11/11/78: Buck Henry / The Grateful Dead (S4 E05)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
Despite the fact that Buck Henry hasn't wowed me since his first two hosting
gigs, he's a host I'm always rooting for, and every time I approach another of
his episodes, I'm met with an excitement that's perhaps only outmatched by the
subsequent disappointment that sets in about half-way through. In his seventh
hosting gig, Buck remains a champion of the show's strangest whims and a
delightful everyman, but if there's little to this episode that offends,
there's little that impresses, either.
</p>
<p>
The most notable aspect of this episode is that, after going for so long
without a recurring sketch under his belt, Buck finally lands Uncle Roy, a
character whom I have very much been shuddering at the prospects of. (I can
count on one closed hand the amount of times this era's knocked it out of the
park with an idea which is both incredibly dark and incredibly sexual.) But
against all odds... it kinda worked for me, political correctness be damned.
It's leering as hell, and I think under anyone else's lead it would be fully
unwatchable, but Buck is perfectly creepy, indulging in his perversion with a
sort of controlled giddiness that feels assured instead of desperate for
laughs or gasps. I have very little hope that the idea will continue to work,
but hey, I had my fun with it! Has the show finally broken me?
</p>
<p>
Outside of that, things are pretty boilerplate, if a watchable enough kind of
boilerplate. Futaba and Nick the Lounge Singer make returns, with the former
being a bit better that usual and the latter being a bit worse. Dan lands an
alright commercial spokesperson piece, hocking a chinchilla de-furring machine
with enough underplayed darkness to register, if not as strongly as I think it
could. John gets to phone in a scenery-chewing scene as the unkillable
Rasputin which rests more on goodwill than the strength of the writing. (We
also get the debut of Garrett's Chico Escuela sketch, in a critically
unmemorable sketch.) Buck remains a consummate pro through it all, and he gets
to have his fun this episode, but things are still merely okay when everything
is said and done. <i>(Penned 7/25/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
11/18/78: Carrie Fisher / The Blues Brothers (S4 E06)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
While I was never that familiar with Carrie Fisher's work, being someone with
numerous glaring pop culture blind spots, I was excited to see her episode.
While it's never been recognized as a classic, in light of Carrie's passing,
it's gained a certain aura to it—not a ghastly one, but a sense that it
reflects its host well and warrants a certain fondness that makes it feel
special. Sufficed to say, while it didn't live up to those sorts of difficult
expectations, it was a decent night, if not one I connected with too strongly.
</p>
<p>
Perhaps the experience was unassisted by the fact that I have embarrassingly little
knowledge or interest in <i>Star Wars</i>, though I also feel like its big
centerpiece sketch wasn't anything too exhilarating either way. I think that
there's an interesting satirical idea in commenting on the vacuous,
casually-misogynistic nature of '50s beach movies, but the framing of Princess
Leia entering such a scenario as the new girl from outer space who just wants
to wear a two-piece bathing suit and find a boy that's really cute feels too
mad-libbed together, with the sharper jokes being lost in the admittedly
detailed pastiche. (The refrain of "Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi" is
admittedly very catchy.)
</p>
<p>
As far as what worked, pickings were slim for me, but there was some enjoyable
material tucked here and there. For as aggressively simplistic as the premise
for "The Loud Family" was, I was astonished by how perfectly-written it was.
There's so many details that bump it from a sketch that writes itself to a
sketch that fights to validate its idea, and with every turn (John entering
wearing noise-cancelling headphones, Bill and Jane's loud sex, the pot bust),
it does; it might just be the best sketch from a laughs-per-minute standpoint
so far this season. Meanwhile, while the Schiller's Reel this episode was so
low-key that I'm sure it faded from most people's memory the second it ended,
I quite enjoyed it; the concept of a travel video resulting in a woman's wife
dying from overexertion at her ignorantly hedonistic vacationing hit a dark
sweet spot for me, and Schiller's unique framing of it allows things to feel
fresh.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the night was, y'know, fine. Franken and Davis refine their "Ex
Police" sketch as "The Mercy Killers," which works a bit better with its
darkness but still feels too shock-driven to have much merit to me. The
<i>Tomorrow</i> and Leonard Pinth-Garnell sketches are as they've always
been—passable, but ultimately stale. Some rousing Blues Brothers performances
help keep the energy pumping, and they finally win me over here with Dan and
John's spastic dancing, but by and large this episode isn't too special.
<i>(Penned 7/27/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
12/02/78: Walter Mattheu / Garrett Morris (S4 E07)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
It's a moderately recent development, courtesy of Jane Curtin, that Walter
Mattheu was a challenging presence during his week at the show, reportedly
approaching the show's intensely meticulous calibration as if a silly romp. I
suppose that's not the greatest sin for a host to have, even if it no doubt
sounds like the sort of presence that would drive a stake through the writer's
room. (I'm sure Belushi loved it.) It's hard to say how much that frustration
shines though Walter's hosting gig, though, which becomes another
run-of-the-mill and mildly interesting Season 4 episode, if one that feels
mercifully front-loaded.
</p>
<p>
There's a pretty nice stretch leading into Update, which feels like it's worth
shouting out. Our old friend George Coe returns for our third (and best, so
far) pretaped commercial of the season, a goofy and rather insane ad for
denture epoxy strong enough to grip the roof of your mouth against the weight
of a helicopter; the Olympia Cafe also returns, and even if it's one of the
more forgettable entries, I'm always a fan of their low-key charm. Bill's
becoming the highlight of these sketches for me, and he plays a rather crucial
role in this one with his verbless nodding turning the cafe into a Coke
supplier, but as we get deeper into this season, it's nice to see some
sketches that encourage more involved character work from Belushi. (Before you
ask, yes, he does do another "But noooo" rant to burn that goodwill, and I'm
beyond tired of them.)
</p>
<p>
The better pieces of that pre-Update half, though, are "Bad News Bees" and the
bedroom sketch with Bill, Gilda, and Walter. Although my relationship with the
bees sketches can be pretty mixed, this one was shockingly fun; I feel like
these sketches can find the right balance between hackiness and brilliant
stupidity when they really apply themselves, and this one, riddling a
<i>Bad News Bears</i>-esque scenario with silly bee puns and innuendo, worked
far more than it should have for me. The latter bedroom sketch is the night's
best, though, a strong slice-of-life piece with Walter's father cozying up
with his daughter and alternating ignorance and hostility against his poor
stepson. It's the perfect use of every person involved: Gilda is bubbly and
charming, Walter is a paternal grump, and Bill is goofy and pitiful,
repeatedly butting into the father-daughter exchanges with brilliantly-stupid
remarks.
</p>
<p>
After that, the night settles into being... just okay, with a few things to
every sketch helping get the night over. The Nixon sketch bored me upfront but
got more fun when Nixon's family joined in towards the end (Jane's sourpuss
Pat Nixon was wonderful); "Woman to Woman" was a bit better than the last
installment but still nothing too special; and the last sketch was one I wish
I liked more, with Walter being the owner of a government surplus store
attempting to console one of his customers, but it felt too sluggish and
formless, punctuated by the occasional laugh (Jane's snowboot walk-on) that
only served to decentralize the sketch's main conceit. I think this episode
could've used just one more strong sketch to send things home, but sadly, it
ends up just being okay. <i>(Penned 7/27/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
12/09/78: Eric Idle / Kate Bush (S4 E08)
</h2>
<div>
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</div>
<p>
Thank the comedy gods for Eric Idle for sending a shock of life to this
ailing season! It's no surprise, really; his previous episodes, while
attached to a far more successful season, felt like they existed in a vacuum
that disregarded the precedent of the sort of material surrounding them, so
it just makes sense that Eric Idle's return to the show would drive SNL to
break the tides and operate at full power, fueled with the sort of vitality
that the past few months have been lacking. Is it the complete lack of
slice-of-life pieces in exchange for sketches with defined, strong comedic
hooks? Maybe. I don't want to rag on the show's more experimental efforts as
of late, but SNL is always best, to me, as a comedy show, threading its
pieces with clear laughs that leave you feeling good, or at the very least
laughing in spite of yourself. This episode was chock full of the cast
sending in strong work, and some particularly fresh work at that.
</p>
<div>
Unsurprisingly, Dan gets activated by this episode, which is always a
delight to see. He's someone who I feel has been struggling to find
particularly exceptional things to do this season; he's no worse than before
as a performer, but the sort of material he's had to work with has been a
lot more thankless, skimping on the sort of fast-talking professional
characters that made him such an asset in the first few seasons. Sadly, Dan
barely gets paired up with Eric here despite the two having an excellent
rapport, but he does get to submit his two finest pieces of the season yet.
The telepsychic cold open is riddled with great writing and great character
work from Dan, playing a hotline psychic who dubiously flaunts his
clairvoyance and torments prank callers with cruel premonitions. The better
piece, though, is his legendary Julia Child sketch, the first in SNL's proud
lineage of excessive bleeding sketches; Dan contributes a fun flair with his
Julia Child impression, but more than anything else, it's an idea that's so
simple and so visceral that it kills in the sheer act of performance, not
that the writing (Julia humorously points out the phone that she attempts to
dial 911 for is a prop) ever hinders.
</div>
<p>
Gilda also gets to debut her Candy Slice character, which I got quite a lot
of joy out of. I've had some friends tell me that Gilda's work on the show
gets a bit stranger late in her tenure as she tries to take on more "edgy"
characterizations, but while Candy Slice is very different from her usual
work, I really enjoyed the effort and found it to be a refreshing way to
expand her range, drunkenly trudging about and collapsing on the ground
until her inane demands are met and culminating in a rip-roarin', punk rock
show-stopper. It perhaps hasn't aged the greatest material-wise, and I'll
always prefer Gilda at her most endearing, but it's good fun while it lasts.
</p>
<p>
Perhaps it sounds like the best pieces of the night existed in stark
contrast to Eric's presence as a host, and I feel like that's true to some
degree. Eric only really gets to let loose and do his thing in the
entertaining "What Do You" game show sketch, but throughout the night he
offers strong support to a series of more ensemble-driven pieces. His
monologue, taking a tour backstage to find someone who can give him the
script for his monologue, is a nice jolt of metaness packed with great
details (the writer's room being a dimly-lit hookah bar, John getting
back-massaged before the show, Bill motivating Eric with a classic
knucklehead speech), and both the aforementioned Candy Slice sketch and
"Cochise at Oxford" are made all the stronger by how much he allows himself
to be a gear in the machine rather than a needy focal point. That's why
Eric's the best; he certainly has nothing to prove, and the cast loves
having him around, but he never lets that encourage the show to merely coast
along. He brings the best out of SNL and he's eager to please.
</p>
<div>
I know that I can't take an Eric Idle episode as precedent for things to
come, but like a shooting star, I'll happily accept all of the sketch comedy
goodness from this episode (and the two remarkable Kate Bush performances!)
and hold it dear. Just for this week, all is good again. <i>(Penned 7/28/21)</i>
</div>
<p><b>GRADE: A-.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
12/16/78: Elliott Gould / Peter Tosh (S4 E09)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtbqo9FuZ2hFgo36rIfvNKS_7UPTO1n65vfYVeZ_X08lUTfeGDvXthkVL4Or0YX3xjycSV3ROS1-913Mb42HAkytmMX5-gPyotD2H37Hr3IB0jt_-pkGbAVIIjMKYOAGKn8qFzGY71JLw/s2048/Screenshot+%252811613%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtbqo9FuZ2hFgo36rIfvNKS_7UPTO1n65vfYVeZ_X08lUTfeGDvXthkVL4Or0YX3xjycSV3ROS1-913Mb42HAkytmMX5-gPyotD2H37Hr3IB0jt_-pkGbAVIIjMKYOAGKn8qFzGY71JLw/s16000/Screenshot+%252811613%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
I feel like the show, up to this point, has gone all out with its Christmas
episodes. Both of Candice Bergen's are wonderful, with her second being
perhaps the finest episode of this era, and while Miskel Spillman's episode
is weird and not particularly good, it's admirable at the conceptual level.
With all of that, I was going into this Christmas episode with a lot of
hopes, and to be honest, I don't think that was wrong to have, especially
with Elliott Gould being such a reliable and wonderful host in the
past.
</p>
<p>
Of course, though, with this being the perpetually-difficult Season 4, what
we got wasn't just more of the same, which I thought I'd become accustomed
to as much as it exhausted me. It was outright dull, a strange fusion of
Christmasy premises with deadening execution. That's the annoying thing about
this season; there's definitely a sense that it wants to be in a thoughtful,
more writerly headspace, constructing very dense and realistic scenes like
the "Knights of the Columbus" sketch or the alcoholic sketch to a lesser
extent, but whereas I can find the show's goals respectable, they exit the
woodwork with such a slow pace that I can't just dismiss them out of a lack
of intrigue—I have to sit with them for a while. At best, I can hope for a
sketch that chases after the sort of simplistic premise that I think makes
SNL so successful, but when this season's idea of that is something like
"The Widettes," casting Jane, Dan, and some others as a family of people
with massive asses who simply exist with massive asses for several
minutes... we're in for a long night.
</p>
<p>
So what worked? Well, Elliott's monologue was a step-down from his last, but
I loved seeing him carry out a song-and-dance number with Garrett; it's
always nice to see someone so underused get to do what he excels at, and his
chemistry with Elliott is surprisingly magnetic. I also didn't mind the
"Mommie Dearest" sketch, though I was browsing the Wikipedia page for the
book in real time to understand what was happening. I think it's a bit
questionable to recontextualize Gilda's catatonic Colleen as Christina
Crawford, but she's a decent enough foil to Jane's master-class performance
as her egocentric, alcoholic mother, Joan. I also thought the final sketch
of the night, with Bill's Honker character selling a Christmas tree, was
nice, though the slow pace of the rest of the evening left me too drained to
fully appreciate the vibe it was going for.
</p>
<p>
I have very little else to say about this. I'm getting tired of Season 4.
Even if last episode was rather fantastic, the fatigue of the norm is
setting in, and it's making the show feel like a chore to get through.
Here's hoping that we can get at least a few more good episodes in the
second half of the season than we did in the first. <i>(Penned 7/27/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<div>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
1/27/79: Michael Palin / The Doobie Brothers (S4 E10)
</h2>
</div>
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</div>
<p>
Considering my general dissatisfaction with Michael Palin's inaugural
hosting stint, I was as eager as I was skeptical of his second. As a Python,
he's a host who is hypothetically perfect for this era of the show, and as
long as the writers are able to drink from his comic nectar, we should be in
for a good evening. That didn't happen last time, somehow, but lo and
behold, this second go won me over quite a bit! If it isn't a flawless
episode, it's one of quiet strength and some strong pieces littered about,
which is the most I could ask of Season 4.
</p>
<p>
It's also, naturally, an episode with some nice, Python-esque fingerprints
all over it, especially in its more successful material. For instance, we
finally get a "What If" segment that isn't just merely passable, but
enjoyably strong, casting Dan as a parallel universe Superman in a world
where the all-American superhero is the defender of the Third Reich—Uberman.
The theoretical strength of "What If" is being able to take insane
hypotheticals and ride them out as far as possible, to a point where we've
escaped the realm of logical conclusions and can bask in the
hyper-specificity, and this installment nails that best; Uberman using his
x-ray vision to oust Al Franken's Nazi as a Jew gave me one of the hardest
laughs of the season. "Name the Bats" was similarly enjoyable, packing some
fun, darkly chaotic energy into the night, though beyond its great reveal,
all of its writing becomes white noise to the mayhem on-stage, and the
greatest spectacle of it all is Michael's desperate attempts to keep the
poorly-constructed prop door from crumbling apart.
</p>
<p>
We also got the epic Miles Copperthwaite sketch, an exercise in
world-building of such grand scope that a second chapter airs in Michael's
hosting gig later this season. While I can't say that I'm too excited to see
its continuation—John and Garrett's walk-on at the end as lispy homosexual
sailors points towards a degree of tone-deafness that is so, so SNL—this
first installment was particularly enjoyable absurdity, featuring a killer
performance from Dan as Lord Pinkney, a phlegm-producing English fop whose
violent spasms cause him to launch snot all over the place in what I can
only describe as a display of delightful grossness. The sketch itself is
wonderfully-written and executed by all of its players until the unfortunate
ending, but what it reminded me of the most is how much I'm gonna miss that
madman Aykroyd when he's gone.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode was pretty standard SNL fare, though executed with
quite a bit more inspiration than usual. The sequel to Michael's Nerds
sketch from his last hosting gig, introducing him to the sketchverse as
Lisa's pedophilic piano instructor, is a rather enjoyable step-up,
broadening the stirring of his manhood to anything that moves. (Honestly, I
was just happy to see some hot Mrs. Loepner action.) Even the trifecta of
the season's most polarizing contributors—Franken and Davis, Father Guido
Sarducci, and Mr. Bill—brought material to the table that I actually liked!
They're still who they are (Franken and Davis lead their segment off with
irrelevant and insufferable communism babble, for instance), but I dunno...
maybe there was just something in the air that got everyone to bring their
A-game, for whatever mileage that offers you. The fact that the back-half
was able to maintain momentum in spite of ending with two of those danger
zones, though, is something I have to respect.
</p>
<p>
All in all, while Michael continues to not be any equivalent to the
always-delightful Eric Idle, he's finally hit his stride. Not a bad time at
all! <i>(Penned 8/30/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
2/10/79: Cicely Tyson / Talking Heads (S4 E11)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
In light of Cicely Tyson's recent passing, I recall reading a comment on
Reddit about how her hosting gig was quite possibly one of the most
embarrassingly terrible episodes of the original five years, and looking at
the rundown, it's not hard to see how one could jump to that conclusion. A
generous handful of the material is filled with some truly wretched jokes or
questionable racial elements, and sufficed to say, I was not looking forward
to seeing the show's first Black female host given these early years' track
record. But to me... it's a tricky one, and I say that in no way to let the
problematic nature of so much of this episode's content off the hook.
</p>
<p>
This season has been a massive slog for me. It's a strange blend of
complacency and sluggishness that's proven to be especially trying on my
patience, alternating between thin vanity pieces from John Belushi and
drawn-out, inefficiently slow pieces that struggle to justify their length
and drag the show to a screeching halt. This Cicely Tyson episode,
miraculously, lacks either of those things, keeping its sketches short and
succinct with clearly-defined comedic hooks, and even if that's not
necessarily a good thing, I felt like my attention was captured here far
more than the average Season 4 entry. While this episode might've had
greater peaks and valleys, from a viewing standpoint, I much prefer that to
an episode that lulls me to sleep.
</p>
<p>
Now, I need to reiterate that I say none of this to suggest that the Cicely
Tyson episode is good, but I don't think it was flagrantly bad, perhaps as a
consequence of expecting it to be far worse. There are two things that I
think deserve mention. One: Cicely Tyson is a magnetic, committed host who's
giving everything her all, and for me, that helps sell the show through some
of its more tepid patches. Both "The Shah's Final Days" and "Frontier
Midwife" aren't the show's finest (though the latter only really sinks
itself with its godawful rape ending), but Cicely gives them a jolt of life
and keeps them moving. Although the goodnights sadly drown all of her words
out against the house band, she's beaming, clapping, hugging and kissing the
cast—she's a perfect host, really, ill-served as she was.
</p>
<p>
Two: this episode really serves as a microcosm for Garrett's use within the
show. He's actualized rather nicely through a particularly fun installment
of "Black Perspective," facing Cicely's ire for perpetuating the laziness of
the Black man, and he gets to sing a nice duet with Cicely in
"Litellavision," but he's also saddled with the monologue... though he at
least makes the most of the material he's given and deflects the potential
embarrassment, which has always been one of his best (if most tragic)
attributes. And truthfully, even if I never like putting Garrett in drag,
it's a monologue with some bite to it that I didn't really dislike beyond
the conditions that necessitated it.
</p>
<p>
The episode, otherwise, is a mix of pretty good and very bad. The
"Ex-Police" installment here is absolutely disgusting and one of the most
grotesquely humorless, homophobic things the show has ever done, so
hard-edged that even the audience seemed unsure of how to react. The cold
open has some unsurprising racist elements and the nightmarish visual of
John as Deng Xiaopeng, but it's not bad work from John, and I liked the
subversion of his ranting style by casting him as enough of an assured
hot-shot that he's not bitter at his sketch being cut. The night concludes
with a string of rather thin pieces, but aside from the pointless "Cicely
Sings Sicily" piece, I actually enjoyed the spectacles of the Walker Brigade
and Litellavision. Last but not least, there's a rather solid Nick the
Lounge Singer piece that's strong no matter what angle you come at it from;
I loved the auto-train setting, and Nick's banter about his Volkswagen is
about as good as the character can get.
</p>
<p>
Overall, this isn't a particularly good episode, but for a season that's
regularly worn me down, it was nice to have an episode that maintained my
attention, through the good and the bad. There's worse things for an episode
to be than interesting to talk about. Two badass, must-see Talking Heads
performances at least seal the deal of this episode having an ounce of
merit. <i>(Penned 7/29/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<div>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
2/17/79: Ricky Nelson / Judy Collins (S4 E12)
</h2>
</div>
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</div>
<p>
Rick Nelson as a host embodied the episode for me pretty well: I had no idea
who this guy was, but the show was incredibly intent on me knowing him. That
sentiment, a reliance on recognition from the audience to make its sketches
soar, makes for a rather testy evening; I can see how this episode is
strong, but it keys so strongly into a sense of nostalgia for things that I
don't have. If you get it, you'll dig it, but if you don't, you'll just walk
away feeling completely alienated.
</p>
<p>
It's obvious that tonight's episode is really trying at something unique.
The sketches had a strange, meandering vibe, and not even as a lot of this
season has with its extensive, slow-burn sketches. No, it feels like so much
of this episode is built on a sort of spontaneity and sense of scale that,
while interesting, rarely paid off for me in particularly satisfying ways.
Perhaps that's, again, because so much of the sketches relied on cultural
cache of the time that has since run somewhat obsolete; both the
<i>Twilight Zone</i> sketch, with Ricky Nelson drifting from one
black-and-white sitcom sketch to the next, and the macho game show sketch
that suddenly gets infiltrated by <i>The Untouchables</i> had premises that
I feel like I should enjoy, but that I simply can't out of an unfamiliarity
with the source material. Both sketches have interesting hooks, and I can
see how the constant shuffle of different variables may be fun, but I'm left
with shockingly little to say when I struggle to decode the pastiche. (I did
get a laugh at the <i>I Love Lucy</i> bit at least, which goes to show you
the power of being in the know. I'll be damned if the rest wasn't just
spectating upon a culture that I was never a part of, though.)
</p>
<p>
Although slightly less pop culture-saturated, the Candy Slice sequel sketch
felt equally meandering, but I think it ultimately worked, substituting the
ace writing of the first installment with more dynamic circumstances,
culminating in Bill carrying Gilda to the center-stage for a live
performance—not as good for me, but a noble successor with tinges of live
show excitement. There was only one truly succinct sketch this episode, and
I found it to be the best, returning to the struggling mall that houses the
Scotch Boutique and peeking in on a barbershop trying to feign ignorance to
the urban decay that spells out its eventual closure. I always enjoy
world-building in SNL, which Don Novello's seemed to take quite a shine to
between these and his Olympia Cafe series; it's fun seeing Dan, John, and
Gilda's characters return to offer some satisfying connective tissue without
ever deterring from the more immediate narrative of the piece. It's also the
one opportunity that Rick really gets tonight to do some heavy-lifting, and
he reveals himself to be quite the team player; if he's no Fred Willard, he
brought some appropriately low-key charm.
</p>
<p>
The one glimmering positive that I can say about this episode is that even
if I had my issues with it, I struggled with a different set of issues than
Season 4 tends to offer me. I can see how this one would work, and I try to
peer into the vacuum every time I watch vintage SNL, but sometimes the
vacuum is just too strong. <i>(Penned 8/14/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
2/24/79: Kate Jackson / Delbert McClinton (S4 E13)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
Kate Jackson's hosting gig succeeds at something that this season has had a
surprisingly hard time at: it's affable. So frequently, Season 4 will find
itself struggling to balance its fatigue and tedium, but if this episode
isn't anything too amazingly special (in fact, it has some legitimate
abhorrence behind it, which I'll get to later), it's a breezy one, somehow
quintessential to this season without attracting the season's most lethal
traits.
</p>
<p>
That's not to say it doesn't have its ups and downs, but the episode
benefits from lacking in extremes; its energy feels nicely maintained the
entire time. In a lot of ways, the night (like the last one) embodies its
host: Kate Jackson is pleasant and carries out her work on the show with a
sense of professionalism, but she hardly leaves much of a lasting
impression. I suppose it's true, though, that she's not given too much to do
here that would allow her to bear any stronger of a presence. She goes from
role to role, bouncing between herself, regular people, or
<i>attractive</i> people. (SNL's not remotely leering here, at least.) She's
served best playing a hot nurse in the Nerds sketch; the slice-of-life
flavor of those lends itself nicely to some grounded character work from
her, and the premise might actually make it my favorite variant of any of
the Nerds sketches yet. There's something sweet about how much Gilda pines
for Bill's tough love after he seems to have forgotten her amidst his
swooning for Kate's nurse character. These sketches so frequently flirt with
some iffiness in regards to Bill's antagonism, so I like how this iteration
reminds us that there's a mutual bond between the two, and they're playing
the roles in their friendship that just make sense to each other.
</p>
<p>
Beyond that, the night is a bit of a wash, though never too dreadful. The
child psychologist sketch, with Laraine cast as a child psychologist (get
it?), is probably the runner-up, and while I'm never too huge a fan of
Gilda's Colleen character, Laraine's powerhouse performance pushes it over.
It's one of the best things she's gotten this season, even if that's not a
particularly bold statement. "Bad Cabaret for Children" certainly gives the
show a jolt of energy in the back-half, but it's just a cacophony of
confused noise. And the night's concluding "Coneheads at the Movies" sketch
offers the usual fare from everyone's favorite alien family, but between
John's heavy explication and the cutaways to the movie being watched, it
feels too fillery and underwritten. Beldar getting high is worth a laugh, at least.
</p>
<p>
The most interesting aspect of the episode, though, and the most
distressing, is John. This episode is famously the occasion that John, after
three straight days of heavy partying with the Rolling Stones left him in
incredibly ill health,
<a href="https://www.chicagotribune.com/news/ct-xpm-1986-04-16-8601270815-story.html">was wheeled out by Lorne to partake in the show despite the strong
likelihood that it would kill him</a>. It's the most wretched tale from the show that I've ever heard, even
more so because Lorne would go on to talk about years later as if it was
something that he was frustrated with, all while fully enabling the
problematic Belushi—reduced to a sickly green, constantly passing out, and
with his lungs filled with fluid—to put his life on the line. And for what?
John featured most prominently in a Fred Silverman runner that kept him at a
distance from the rest of the episode, up until the final sketches where he
played expendable roles. There's no reason why he couldn't have been given
the show off to recover, as if John being integral to a week's show is a
reason to risk his life to begin with. Fucking vile.
</p>
<p>But y'know, outside of that, pretty okay stuff! <i>(Penned 8/22/21)</i></p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
3/10/79: Gary Busey / Eubie Blake and Gregory Hines (S4 E14)
</h2>
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<p>
There's something in the air with Season 4 which makes a relatively good
episode all that more intoxicating. Gary Busey's hosting gig is far from the
best that the show could possibly do, and it struggles through so many of
the issues that have made Season 4 as difficult for me as it is, but for me,
it's the best episode of this ailing season after Idle. A lot of that,
admittedly, is by the sheer magnetism of Busey. As someone who's only known
him as the manic, post-accident Gary who yelled at Charlie Sheen on that
movie poster and yelled at his TV on that TV commercial, I didn't really
know what to expect—perhaps a consummate professional who can go for it like
a Nicolas Cage. But lo and behold, Busey's always been Busey; his rambling,
hamboning, and the strangeness that orbits even the most theoretically
infallible of moments gives the show such a forceful injection of life. To
the episode's credit, though, he's presented with material that lets him pal
around with the gang pretty darn snugly, and I'd be foolish to neglect that
synergy.
</p>
<p>
The episode can be encapsulated best, perhaps, in its overlong prom sketch.
I actually liked it, for the record; it was a delightfully realized ensemble
piece that gave everyone an engaging, unique role, floating from
conversation to conversation among students, musicians, and school faculty.
It was as thoughtfully slice-of-life as it was absurd, ending with Gary's
rock 'n roller declaring that nobody can stop him, only for scrolling text
to reveal that he was stopped immediately after by a boiler room explosion
that left his entire band deaf and incapacitated. But it's a piece that,
nevertheless, meanders far past its initial welcome, the good somehow
powerful enough to allow it to work in spite of what it threatens to be. The
Carter brothers sketch and cold open similarly weigh their odds with their
length and scope, but while the latter succeeds through some fine
metatextual threading, the former is a slog that, up top the show, exists to
remind us that even Season 4 at its best is Season 4.
</p>
<p>
It's the joy and spontaneity that manages to sneak in, though, that allows
the episode to persevere, and to find some fine material in the process. The
"muck jumper" sketch was the night's finest offering to Gary, and it's a
particularly delightful piece; although it takes a few beats too many to get
into its conceit, the conceit of Gary being a vagrant traveler who jumps off
people's roofs into their cesspools was delightful absurdity, even finding
an ending that makes the entire journey worth it. (How often does an ending
<i>make</i> an SNL sketch?) Tom Schiller also submits a stellar piece for
the evening, finding a muse in Bill Murray. I've wanted to see the piece for
a while, and it didn't disappoint, painting a surprisingly affecting
portrait for his homeless Honker character who, under the spell of booze on
a crisp winter's night, dreams of performing amalgamated sonnets before a
captivated audience. Even Weekend Update brought about more joy than usual,
featuring some classic SNL bloopers courtesy of an uncooperative horse.
There's nothing quite like the stability of early SNL dangling so
dangerously in the balance, and by the end of the segment, Bill and Jane are
reduced to giggles so intense that Jane can barely complete her sign-off.
Indelibly charming.
</p>
<p>
And goddamn, I gotta mention this episode's musical performances, because
they <i>floored</i> me! I'm embarrassed to say I didn't know who Eubie Blake
was prior, but with Gregory Hines by his side, beautifully singing Blake's
songs with the sort of twinkle in his eye that only comes from true
enchantment and the utmost reverence, I knew he was special. Even four
decades later, his piano wizardry is truly spell-binding, and the warmth
on-stage between the two performers gave me the biggest smile I've had in
weeks. Gary's special performance... not so much, but you gotta love the guy
for trying. Pour that champagne, buddy—we've earned it tonight.
<i>(Penned 8/25/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
3/17/79: Margot Kidder / The Chieftains (S4 E15)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
It always feels like a lottery, at all times with SNL, over what host will
get treated well with their material, and what host will get treated poorly.
Why is it that Cicely Tyson, perhaps one of the most radiant presences to
host the show in the original era, would be saddled with some of the most
offensive material of these early years, whereas Margot Kidder, a host who
is merely affable and at best decent at reading her lines, exits with one of
the stronger episodes of the season? I suppose we'll never know how the
fates are decided, but if an episode at this point is even vaguely
enjoyable... you'll bet your ass I'll enjoy it to the umpteenth degree. Such
was the fate of this Margot Kidder gig: while she wasn't the most inspiring
SNL host and occasionally stumbled through some lines, she never deterred in
the relatively nice smattering of pieces the show offered her.
</p>
<p>
One of the things I found particularly nice about the episode is that so
much of it was devoted to a certain St. Patty's Day cheer that enabled even
some of the limper, rehashed material to get over for me alright. Both the
concept of the cold open and the Knights of Columbus sketches are rehashes
of pieces that I wasn't too thrilled about in their earlier iterations, but
something about them worked for me just that hair more to feel tolerable,
and to feed into the pleasant atmosphere of the night. There's also the
monologue, which is probably one of the better pieces from the episode,
where Dave Wilson and the control room's sloppy, drunken St. Patrick's Day
festivities strain the show's ability to conduct itself. It is, admittedly,
a premise that feels amalgamated from other backstage moments and
monologues—a little Eric Idle, a little Killer Bees—but I always appreciate
an excuse to take a walk backstage and bring the crew members in on the fun,
something these early seasons have done a surprisingly solid job at. Oh, and
we've also got The Chieftains, filling the two musical guest slots with a
rousing dose of Irish folk music! Could you <i>imagine</i> if they did
something like that these days? Because I couldn't even for a second, and
it's another reason to appreciate these early years' eye for eclectic
musical performances, which somehow nestle into the patchwork of the show
perfectly.
</p>
<p>
The two most enjoyable pieces of the night, though, rested outside of that
general pattern. "Fred Garvin: Male Prostitute" was a jolt of beautiful Dan
silliness, something this season has been sorely lacking in at points; it's
a rather long sketch, but he anchors it perfectly as Margot's unsolicited,
square, and profoundly un-sexual male prostitute, making immaculate use of
Dan's businessman-like delivery. (The sight of his "sultry" poses in bed for
Margot with the world's cheesiest smile is also, undoubtedly, one of my
favorite visuals from all season.) The superhero party sketch is even more
labored, but similarly fulfilling. It's certainly not the grandest exercise
in sketch writing to have fun with superheroes, but there's something
intrinsically fun about seeing a piece so nerdy in the original era, and it
excels even without a lot of familiarity with the source material. It's
rather strange how halting Margot comes across in her performance as Lois
Lane, considering that's, like... her thing, but I loved the concept of
superheroes and their wives/lady friends being socially alienated at a house
party, granting the sketch some fun, slice-of-life tinges. Plus, Belushi's
chummy, wise-ass performance as the Hulk was particularly fun work from
him—how often have I been able to say that about him this season?
</p>
<p>
Not only is it nice for an S4 episode to have a few pieces worth bragging
about, but the fact that there's such a breezy energy throughout makes this
one stand out quite a bit to me. It's still got some clunkers, and Franken
and Davis tag-team with Mr. Bill to stink up the joint right at the end, but
the fact that there's anything to like immediately lets me go to bat for it
as a whole. Perhaps that's the desperation setting in... but I'll let myself
have fun. <i>(Penned 8/31/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+. </b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
4/07/79: Richard Benjamin / Rickie Lee Jones (S4 E16)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
In a season that lives and dies by a near-identical ebb and flow week after
week, the prospects of the Richard Benjamin episode felt tantalizing. It's a
strange, strange episode that I only really knew about beforehand from its
epic "Pepsi Syndrome" piece, and its overall lack of sketches. Aside from
the cold open and monologue, there's only four sketches total, which is
insane to think about. While that gave me some concern as I grew more
accustomed and apprehensive of the ways of this season—these sketches are
already running long enough, how the hell could this one be any better?—it
so quickly proved itself to be, in spite of that theoretically intense
Season 4-ness, a truly singular episode, and one that stands as a refreshing
and delectable exception to the rules which have dictated this season's
onslaught of casual complacency and mediocrity. In other words: this episode
was mighty strong.
</p>
<p>
Immediately, with the cold open revealing that Belushi wouldn't be in the
building (out with an ear infection, allegedly), I was jazzed
more than I probably should be, but as the episode would continue to
unravel, for good fucking reason! This one felt like what I wish Season
5 would become: a version of the show without Belushi, but with Dan. Indeed,
too, this felt like a nicely Dan-centric episode, something I've bemoaned
the lack of in recent memory; he submits fine straight man work for the
fun, meta cold open alongside a John Belushi substitute, gets the best use
of his Carter impression yet in "The Pepsi Syndrome," and enlivens the
"Scottish Restaurant" sketch, which without his anchoring threatens to
become an exhausting, crudely-conceived bit of xenophobia.
</p>
<p>
Honestly, though, since this episode has so little material, I can afford to
hit up every sketch one by one. The big centerpiece, naturally, is the epic,
beloved "The Pepsi Syndrome," which absolutely lives up to the hype. (It's all
the more surprising that I heartily enjoyed it, given that the prospects of such a piece penned by Franken and Davis, if at least alongside Jim Downey, make me feel very unwell.) It's a rather slow piece for the most part, but it always
finds beautifully inane bits along the way to its sweeping climax—what other
sketch features an ode to nuclear energy as delivered through mime
performance, or a thirty second Rodney Dangerfield cameo? The true meat of
the sketch, though, is Dan's Jimmy Carter, who, through nuclear exposure and
a series of beautifully dated special effects, becomes "The Colossal
President" and delivers a message to reporters in the nude from the other
side of a giant window. It's so conceptually bananas that even Garrett in
drag can't deter; the twist of his maid character (sent into the nuclear
core to clean up a spill only to grow to Carter's size and become his new
first lady) creeping into frame alongside Dan with the goofiest smile on his
face gave me one of the heartiest laughs of this era. This sketch is all
build-up to that wicked punchline, but damn if it isn't worth it; "The Pepsi
Syndrome" is such a gem.
</p>
<p>
The episode already cements its place with that piece, but the delightful
one-two punch with the Nerds installment that follows guaranteed to me that
the show could do no wrong. Whereas Season 4 feels like a place where a lot
of sketch concepts have come to die, I feel like the Nerds have
just kept getting better and better with each successive installment
broadening the characters' relationships and worlds. This iteration, with
Todd attempting to seduce Lisa at the bachelor pad of his germaphobic
brother (a perfect role for Richard's nerdy energy, mind you), was equal
parts charming and beautifully chaotic. Both Gilda breaking as Bill
forcefully pours rose down her throat, and the insane physical comedy of the
two locking their faces together and rolling from the couch to the ground as
Bill frantically tries to convert it to a futon turned this one into an
instant-classic in my books. I could think of no better send-off for these
characters, if only the show would allow them to exit on this high. I
suppose we'll see how much further future installments can carry them, even
if this feels like the most natural conclusion.
</p>
<p>
The remaining pieces are of lesser significance, but still respectable in
their own ways. As simple as Aviva Slesin's "A Bird For All Seasons" is,
casting Bill as a Fred Silverman-esque network exec forwarding his agenda of
bird-centric programming, it may just be a dark horse candidate for one of
my favorites of the season. Something about Bill's cocky deadpan
interspersed with excessively-detailed recreations of television programming
led off by real birds broke me. The sheer <i>dedication</i> swung me from the
get-go and left me with nothing but guilty belly laughs at the site of bird
Frankenstein, or a bird Lawrence of Arabia riding a camel, or a sitcom
starring two pizza boy birds talking in the most mind-numbing Italian garble
ever—transcendent content for my stupid soul. The concluding "Scottish
Restaurant" sketch flirted dangerously with lame stereotypes, meanwhile, but
Dan's performance helped bring some entertainment, and the absurd details
(side of thistles, anyone?) manage to triumph over their muddied entry
point.
</p>
<p>
What else is there to really say here? Not only does this episode feel fresh
and rejuvenated, existing in a vacuum far away from the seasonal fatigue;
it's downright epic. It offers the sort of madcap experimentation and
expansion that makes this era of SNL so hypothetically exciting. We so
rarely see that be the ultimate case, but man, when you do... the sparks can
really start to fly. <i>(Penned 8/31/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A.</b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
4/14/79: Milton Berle / Ornette Coleman (S4 E17)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
I'm not gonna beat around the bush here: I came into the Milton Berle
episode looking for a hate-watch. And how could you not? The moment Milton saunters
on-stage and does so much as opens his mouth, the mythology surrounding his
episode reveals itself to be true, only to get beaten into a bloodied pulp
as he seamlessly combines sexism, racism, and insufferable shtick. Every deadening remark is delivered with a
lifeless glint in his eyes, and the lifeless glint of a man who doesn't just know he has nothing to
prove but thinks he knows better than everyone else in the room. I suppose
it makes enough sense for him to reach that narcissistic conclusion given
the entire audience's nervous teetering at his meandering stand-up, but I
share my sympathy with them. I mean, could you imagine finally getting
tickets to see SNL, and the episode is hosted by a legend of the golden age
of television... and he fucking <i>sucks</i>?
</p>
<p>
It's a strange night to look back on, especially because I feel like there's
some world where at least some of it could work. The greatest issue is that
Milton crashes through literally everything that he's a part of, eager and
smug to get the last laugh whether or not the sketches he's in necessitates
it. A slice-of-life piece featuring the Farbers maintaining a
characteristically low-key conversation while tending to their senile
father? That's an opportunity to groan and spit-take, if there ever was
one—why should we allow the audience's attention to be held to any one thing
in such a fragile piece anyway? Even Milton's nauseating "show-stopper" at
the end of the episode, crooning "September Song" and waxing upon his
career, was a segment that Milton proceeded to litter with shitty jokes.
(One of the few sketches he didn't sabotage, notably, was the final
installment of "The Widettes," because he didn't have to for it to be
exhausting. Due credit there, I suppose.)
</p>
<p>
There are some bright spots to come out of keeping Milton at an
arm's length from the creative process, but every such sketch feels like
more of a reprieve than a gain. Both the "Texaco Star Theatre" opening and
the "Village Persons" pieces were on the fluffier side, but enjoyable
enough additions to the episode that pumped some necessary energy in; the
former made for a cute (if undeserving) tribute to the night's host, while
the latter was a nice heaping of gaudy stupidity and unbridled cocaine
energy. I also think there's something to be appreciated deep within the
nexus of the "Launching Pad" sketch, even if it resigns itself to being
another oblong Season 4 dirge; every cast member submits a solid
characterization that encompasses the spectrum of amateur comedy, but it
just isn't all that funny. The only real, bonafide winner of the night was
the Irwin Mainway installment, and our final installment under Dan's tenure;
while I haven't been as hot on it those sketches season as the bits have
veered further away from visual comedy in favor of salacious detail, the
accounts of Irvin's crude, morally-reprehensible amusement rides are good
fun, as is Jane's aggressive, murderous lunge at Dan at the very end. It's
hard to be a good sketch in the midst of utter dogshit, and my appreciation
was sullied by the mood the evening set me in, but good material is good
material.
</p>
<p>
Ultimately, none of that really matters, though. When an episode has already
been relegated into loathsome infamy by the nature of its existence, no
amount of positives can make up for the thick atmosphere, which in moments
like Milton's ranting at his monologue being cut off or Dan hopping off the
goodnights stage before the cameras are off feel all too palpable. There's
too little joy in watching a decrepit old man bomb for an hour.
<i>(Penned 9/08/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: D. </b></p>
<h2 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 22px; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
5/12/79: Michael Palin / James Taylor (S4 E18)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
At the goodnights of his third hosting stint, Michael Palin is barely able
to get a few words out before he's immediately ambushed with hugs from the
entire cast (and noogies from Bill, naturally) before collapsing to the
ground with a truly endearing smile on his face. It's an indelibly sweet
moment for this original era that makes you realize just how much Michael
was loved as a recurring host, and it's not difficult to see why; in the
heyday of truly rousing sketch comedy, getting to work with a Python is a
dream come true, let alone one that inundates himself fully into the
creative process of the show. This felt like an episode where everyone was
having a great time... so it's unfortunate that it's also, by a significant
margin, the most dreadful episode from Michael yet, charging forth with
ambitions that, rather than granting the show a greater sense of insight,
turn the entire show into a brutal slog of material that deserved to be lost
to the sands of time.
</p>
<p>
The Richard Benjamin episode gets a lot of attention for its unique
structure, but Michael Palin is even more unique, if unheralded in that
regard—perhaps because it's so deadening. "The Pepsi Syndrome" lives on in
legend as one of the show's grandest epics, yet this episodes sequel to
Michael's previous Miles Cowperthwaite sketch is about a minute longer, if
substantially less involved. The last Cowperthwaite sketch packed some truly
beautiful absurdist details in with a powerhouse Dan performance; this
follow-up, swapping settings to a homoerotic pirate ship, has significantly
less to work with aside from lispy performances from almost every male SNL
could source from the cast and writing room. If it hasn't actively aged into
something despicable, it feels insufferably hacky and limp; a few choice
details offer laughs, especially Bill's surgeon character, but the sketch's
premise subjects it to an early grave because of how few jokes it can make
(the list: gay pirates, Miles being sexually assaulted).
</p>
<p>
Not to be outdone, "Boulevard of Proud Chicano Cars" is just a hair more
tolerable, and I mean <i>just</i> a hair. Coming in at over 11 minutes, it
at least takes more liberties with jumping around from scenario to scenario,
and set to set, but the premise that guides it is even more
nebulously-defined (at one point, Dan's Jimmy Carter pops up crucially with
limited explanation), and the incredibly wobbly performances from John,
Laraine, and especially poor Gilda as Chicanos will make you wince at best
and recoil at worst. There's some vague suggestion of the sketch attempting
to make some comment about socioeconomics and race relations, but it goes
about as well as you'd expect this writer's room to accomplish. Michael
makes his only other sketch appearance of the night here, as well, in an
exceptionally minor role as a Cockney mechanic, which also ends up being the
only time in the episode that he's allowed a shot at putting his material
over. He's fine.
</p>
<p>
Whatever tidbits the episode manages to squeeze around its two centerpieces
are better by default, but all pretty lesser bits. Dan gets his first crazy
spokesperson bit on the show in ages, but there's no spark to the idea, or
any good comedy to the idea of steroids for plants. He gets a better bit at
the very end of the episode as Tom Snyder alongside his mom, played to
perfection by Jane; it would be the episode's finest piece if not for how
truncated it comes across. There's also Mr. Bill in the mix! People like
these?
</p>
<p>
Look, I'm glad that Michael had a great time, but just as he gets lost in
the skirmish of his own episode, whatever excitement powered this episode to
the finish line doesn't translate to the end result at all. One would hope
that he's better-served in his future hosting stints, but I've been told not
to set my expectations too high... and seeing this one, I certainly won't.
<i>(Penned 9/05/21)</i>
</p><p><b>GRADE: D+.</b></p><h2 style="text-align: left;">5/19/79: Maureen Stapleton / Phoebe Snow and Linda Ronstadt (S4 E19)</h2>
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</div>
<p>
It's a great shame that, by the very nature of what they do, character
actors don't frequent SNL very much. They're the sort of actors who put in
the work, whether or not the spotlight is cast on them, and they take it to
the stage with graciousness and a workmanlike precision to help get
everything over as if they're one of the gang. You can tell that sense of
self goes a long way, too; the goodnights of Maureen Stapleton's episode—a
low-key but successful outing—found the cast embracing her, carrying her
about, and proclaiming her name to the studio audience.
</p>
<p>
It's almost sort of miraculous that the show found insightful way to utilize
the middle-aged Maureen, because it's not like SNL and its party animal
energy screams "female host in her mid-50s." And yet Maureen made for a
perfect member of the ensemble, delivering charming and dedicated work
whether or not it was expressly required in every appearance she made. The
Nick the Lounge Singer sketches always threaten to at least somewhat bury
the host amidst the crowd that Nick navigates, but Maureen scores a win in
the sketch with a beautifully-executed, aghast stare, and in the case of the
rather flat "Veterans of Foreign Hairdos" sketch, her testimonial as a woman
who's inexplicably content with her eccentric new look saves it from
wallowing in repetition. Her best moment of the night, though, is also the
best sketch, casting her as a passive-aggressive mother trying to push a
tray of brisket upon her weary daughter, their dinner reservation be damned.
It's a delightful slice-of-life piece carried by exceptional writing and a
wonderfully in-sync performance with Gilda, who's granted a wonderful
opportunity to go all out as a poor woman who loves her mother as much as
she's spiteful of their microaggressions.
</p>
<p>
While that makes for the episode's crowning achievement, there's a
respectable energy to proceedings that allows even the less successful
material to at least bear some merit. While I much preferred Dan's first
"Telepsychic" cold open from the Eric Idle episode, where he sleazily dueled
with skeptical callers, this one was at least a chance to get one last bump
of cerebral Dan weirdness on his way out. The "Roach Brothel" sketch was
similarly bizarre, but while I don't think it lived up to its full,
absurdist potential, it ultimately amounts to a fun, fake commercial in a
season that seems far less intent on drilling into that well. We also have a strange installment of "Black Perspective"; while I don't think it
ultimately gets over indebted to some iffy ethnic caricatures, I think it
offers an interesting glimpse into the socioeconomics of the day, with
Garrett expressing a sense of quiet satisfaction at the rise of immigrants
becoming "the new [n-word]s" and lifting African Americans off of the lowest
rungs of the social ladder. The night ends on (barring Mr. Bill, as I tend
to do) another installment of Don Novello's mall series, and while I don't
think it has as much of an impact as the previous two, I'm always happy to
see something so melancholy and thoughtful to round out the night, and
Maureen feels like a shoe-in for the sort of host who can convey those
emotions.
</p>
<p>
It's far from a perfect episode overall, but it's the sort of episode from
this season that I really like to see. I complain about Season 4 quite a
bit, but it still has the potential to do good with the impulses that guide
it, and Maureen Stapleton made for a fine muse to the show's more delicate
touch. <i>(Penned 9/08/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<div><h2>5/26/79: Buck Henry / Bette Midler (S4 E20)</h2></div>
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<p>
Our annual Buck Henry season finale is a time of apprehension. As I say in
all of my reviews of Buck episodes: I love the guy and think he's an
underrated SNL legend, but I'll be damned if his episodes don't often try at
my patience. Coming at the end of this rather tumultuous season, I was even
more skeptical than ever of what we could accomplish... so I was pleasantly
surprised that Buck's latest episode, if not as perfect as one would like to
hope, felt like a true season finale, offering one last burst of energy
before closing things down for the summer, and for some revered cast
members, for the rest of their careers.
</p>
<p>
ndeed, this was the final show of both John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, two
cast members that I have nothing if not a ton of opinions about. John has
been, putting Chevy aside, the most difficult of the original cast for me to
assess. For as much capability as he has to be compelling, he was a creature
of habit who often relegated himself to the same bits, played out to
diminishing returns to all but the whooping audience that adored him. This
last season especially was a difficult one for John; as he grew bigger than
the show he was a part of, his efforts became more middling. He was the
contractual wild card, but he only revealed his gifts when they were
funneled into the right material. Fortunately, in addition to one final
Futaba sketch (which I can forgive—it's the dude's final night, and the
sight of John throwing pastries into the studio audience gave me another
reminder of his likeability), he got to go out strong with our final Olympia
Cafe sketch, too. I've always loved that series for its attention to detail
and sense of narrative progression, and this was the perfect note to end on:
after John's scheme to stage a fire and reap the insurance benefits for a
renovation falls through, he leads everyone off with a Greek circle dance.
It's a far more poignant image to close the season than Buck and Laraine
dressed as "transsexuals," so I'll pretend it is.
</p>
<p>
Dan doesn't get as good of a send-off, but his final episode is perhaps
tragically appropriate for how this last season has gone for him. With the
show stripping him significantly of his insane spokesperson utilities (hell,
Bill gets such a sketch this episode), he's more than less drifted into
their resident political impressionist and ensemble player, lucky to get
other roles along the way that play to his eccentricities. His final Nixon
sketch this episode is rather fun, at least—I've never been the hugest fan,
but Jane's dour Pat impression slays as always and the flashback scene with
him and Buck holding up signs and "fabricating" incriminating evidence
("LET'S TALK IN INCOMPLETE SENTENCES) is a riot. One just wishes for a bit
more love towards one of the greatest cast members of all time, but at least
he'll make the most return appearances of anyone from this group in the
years to come.
</p>
<p>
Those qualities offer the finale the most poignance, but the rest of the
material is pretty routinely pleasant enough that I can't complain too hard.
Buck's deviance is tapped into with yet another entry of "Uncle Roy," and
yet again, it inexplicably works for me in its shameless debauchery,
escalating to the degree that Laraine and Gilda stuff their socks in his
mouth and tie him to their bedposts... but please, quit while you're ahead,
SNL. I also enjoyed the metaness up top the show, between Jane's LFNY rant
cutting off the opening montage and Buck's monologue, indebted to the
interests of a focus group, shrinking and growing with the intellectualism
and ribaldry of his commentary, respectively. It's the little things that
help keep this episode feeling spirited if nothing else, and I enjoyed it.
</p>
<div>
As we approach Season 5, it's daunting to consider what the show will look
like; shaved of two of its biggest stars, there's at least a pressure for
SNL to fill in those gaps. Whether or not it'll lead to interesting changes,
or if it'll end up turning the show into a dirge, it'll be an interesting,
transitional moment for the show... and worst case scenario, if it's as
frustrating as I fear it'll be, Doumanian and Ebersol are right around the
corner. Only one more Buck finale to go, y'all. <i>(Penned 9/10/21)</i>
</div>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<h2>
Cumulative Season Rankings:<br /></h2>
<p><b>1. </b>Richard Benjamin / Rickie Lee Jones (A)<br /><b>2. </b>Eric Idle / Kate Bush (A-)<br /><b>3. </b>Gary Busey / Eubie Blake and Gregory Hines (B+)<br /><b>4. </b>Michael Palin / The Doobie Brothers (B+)<br /><b>5. </b>Fred Willard / Devo (B+)<br /><b>6. </b>Margot Kidder / The Chieftains (B+)<br /><b>7. </b>Maureen Stapleton / Phoebe Snow and Linda Ronstadt (B)<br /><b>8.</b> Walter Matthau (B)<br /><b>9. </b>Steve Martin / Van Morrison (B)<br /><b>10. </b>Buck Henry / Bette Midler (B)<br /><b>11.</b> Carrie Fisher / The Blues Brothers (B)<br /><b>12. </b>Kate Jackson / Delbert McClinton (B)<br /><b>13. </b>Rick Nelson / Judy Collins (B-)<br /><b>14. </b>Buck Henry / The Grateful Dead (B-)<br /><b>15. </b>The Rolling Stones (C+)<br /><b>16. </b>Cicely Tyson / Talking Heads (C+)<br /><b>17.</b> Elliott Gould / Peter Tosh (C)<br /><b>18. </b>Michael Palin / James Taylor (D+)<br /><b>19. </b>Frank Zappa (D+)<br /><b>20. </b>Milton Berle / Ornette Coleman (D)<br /><br /><b>FAVORITE SKETCHES:</b><b><br />10.</b> "What If" (S4E10 / Michael Palin)<br /><b>9.</b> "Muck Jumpers" (S4E14 / Gary Busey) <br /><b>8. </b>"A Bird For All Seasons" (S4E16 / Richard Benjamin) <br /><b>7. </b>"Fred Garvin: Male Prostitute" (S4E15 / Margot Kidder) <b><br />6.</b> "Scotch Boutique" (S4E02 / Fred Willard) and the mall series<br /><b>5.</b> "The Olympia Cafe" (S4E20 / Buck Henry)<br /><b>4.</b> "Mother & Daughter" (S4E19 / Maureen Stapleton)<br /><b>3.</b> "The Pepsi Syndrome" (S4E16 / Richard Benjamin)<br /><b>2.</b> "The French Chef" (S4E08 / Eric Idle)<br /><b>1.</b> "Nerds in Love" (S4E16 / Richard Benjamin)</p>
<p><b>Other great sketches:</b> "Baxter Prison" (S4E03 / Frank Zappa); "Uncle Roy" (S4E05 / Buck Henry); "Loud Family" (S4E06 / Carrie Fisher); Eric Idle's monologue and "Candy Slice" (S4E08 / Eric Idle); "Miles Cowperthwaite" (S4E10 / Michael Palin); "Nick Rails" (S4E11 / Cicely Tyson); "Nerds & The Nurse" (S4E13 / Kate Jackson); "Bill Murray's Celebrity Corner: Mrs. Ed," "Unsung Heroes of Rock 'n Roll," and "Schiller's Reel: Perchance to Dream" (S4E14 / Gary Busey); "On the Spot (Irwin Mainway)" (S4E17 / Milton Berle); "Nick Wings" (S4E19 / Maureen Stapleton)</p>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE MUSICAL PERFORMANCES:<br />10.</b> The Doobie Brothers (S4E10 / Michael Palin)<br /><b>9.</b> Ornette Coleman (S4E17 / Milton Berle)<br /><b>8.</b> The Blues Brothers (S4E06 / Carrie Fisher)<br /><b>7.</b> The Chieftains (S4E15 / Margot Kidder)<br /><b>6.</b> Frank Zappa (S4E03 / Frank Zappa)<br /><b>5.</b> Howard Shore and the National Broadcasting Orchestra (S4E01 / The Rolling Stones)<br /><b>4.</b> Kate Bush (S4E08 / Eric Idle) <br /><b>3.</b> Devo (S4E02 / Fred Willard)<br /><b>2.</b> Talking Heads (S4E11 / Cicely Tyson)<br /><b>1.</b> Eubie Blake and Gregory Hines (S4E14 / Gary Busey)</p>
<p><b>SEASON GRADE AVERAGE: B-.</b></p>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">Follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>!<br /><br /></i>
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</div>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-74434896393709075212021-08-30T19:19:00.003-05:002021-09-19T15:06:26.044-05:00Summer Camp Island Review: Jeremiah / Tomorrow's Bananas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"I'm gonna need you to go back to your corner real quick."</span></i></b></span>
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<p>
Today's <i>Summer Camp Island </i>episodes are "Jeremiah" and "Tomorrow's
Bananas." Let's dive on in!
</p>
<p>
By nature of the creative process, not every episode to emerge from a TV show
is a winner, and I think it's unreasonable to expect anything less from even
the best of shows. It's not like <b>"Jeremiah"</b> is a particularly bad
episode, either; it just feels a bit undetailed for a show that excels with
its eye for nuance, and while it presents interesting character work for both
Oscar and Hedgehog, the narrative ensures that they've realistically
accomplished very little by the episode's end.
</p>
<p></p>
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That's also not to say that I'm not a fan of seeing Oscar's parental instincts
crystallize in another episode—I'm always unabashedly down for that. If it isn't
teeming with inspiration, there's guaranteed cuteness to come from Oscar's
sudden bout of fatherhood over a young tree being he finds outside of Susie's
house named Jeremiah. Oscar, as always, is the beating heart of the show, and
it's fun to see how his sense of care combines with his naivete as he tirelessly
plugs away at his new son to the detriment of his own health. The issue is that
the joy of seeing Oscar inhibit a fatherly role for Jeremiah can't really carry
the episode, and <i>SCI's </i>only way to expand upon its premise is to take it
into another direction entirely, and a direction that ends up feeling
particularly labored.<span><a name='more'></a></span>
<div>
<br />As Oscar devotes his life to Jeremiah's growth, Hedgehog is forced to
tend to the other campers, all of whom have suddenly come down with some
strange illness. It's obvious, watching an episode of television with two
seemingly-unrelated things happening at the same time, that they're gonna
wound up interconnected, and indeed, as "Jeremiah" slowly unravels itself,
Hedgehog discovers that Jeremiah is infecting the entire camp with his grubby
fingers, instilling him with strength and causing him to grow bigger and
bigger. Up to this point, the episode is treating Oscar and Hedgehog as
strangely passive entities; Oscar is stuck as Jeremiah's parent, only
developing in the sense of growing fainter and fainter from a lack of sleep,
while Hedgehog is left to put the pieces together through strict observation.
When we get to the climax, then, there's a hope that things will finally be
taken into the two protagonist's hands, and that Hedgehog and Oscar will
finally team up, knowing the full extent of their current circumstances, to
solve the issue in a satisfying way. There's even a nice beat, in the heat of
a moment, where Oscar goes from a doormat to Jeremiah to a strict
disciplinarian, which momentarily defuses the situation.
<p></p>
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</div></div>So it's strange, then, that their efforts fail, and Susie conveniently appears
to fix the issue for them. I can get the use of Susie in an episode that
spirals out of control and begs for a reset, even if I don't think it's very
smooth; at least in an episode like "<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2020/06/summer-camp-island-review-molar-moles.html">Tortilla Towels</a>," there's enough fun going on in how the narrative gets more in more
helpless that the show would rather explore that downward trajectory than find
an inspired way to dig itself out. The issue is that "Jeremiah" isn't even
doing that, really; it's a very slow and methodical narrative that suggests
the climax to be a pivotal moment where everything ties itself together, but
Susie appearing and taking care of it herself ultimately deprives anything
from really being said. Oscar and Hedgehog are charming throughout, but they
always are, and this episode doesn't allow them to inflect their personality
into enough of an outcome.
</div>
<br />
<div><b>"Tomrrow's Bananas,"</b> though similarly ending with Hedgehog getting
bailed out of her dilemma by Susie, is the far better of these two episodes.
Co-penned by newbie Lucyola Langi and Alabaster Pizzo, the resident
time-bending wizard behind Season 1's wonderful "Time Traveling Quick
Pants," it's yet another entry into <i>SCI's</i> winning catalogue of
time-centric experiments. It also happens to be a particularly fantastic
Hedgehog showcase, something that this season has been criminally lacking;
it feels rare to see her character flaws explored, and even rarer for them
to be explored in such a thoughtful way.<p></p>
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</div>
While cleaning the witch school, Hedgheog discovers a bag of magical farro
seeds tucked into an armchair which, after a visit to the underground info
booth located conveniently nearby, she learns can grant you the power to read
your future. Despite warnings not to play with them, Hedgehog twiddles with
the seeds anyway, seeing that she'll end up as valedictorian in high school...
and that Oscar has end up as a detention-dwelling ne'er-do-well. What follows
is blind panic and experimentation, with Hedgehog becoming intensely
over-protective of her precious, corner-bound boo boo and instructing him
through a series of inane, banana-related tasks. As the visions from the seeds
become more and more arbitrary and alter more conflicting variables, though,
her anxiety becomes far too immense to bear.
<p>
It's a messy situation, and one that speaks to the deepness of Oscar and
Hedgehog's friendship. While "Tomorrow's Bananas" uses this to fine comic
effect, dragging Oscar blindly through Hedgehog's experiments with nothing
but faith that his bestie knows what she's doing, there's a turn where Oscar
gets rightfully fed up with his weird treatment and finally, frustratedly
asks Hedgehog what he's even doing. The moment he turns around, though, and
notices Hedgehog bent over, sobbing on the ground, his frustration softens;
he still has no idea what's happening, but he recognizes her desperation and
anxiety and asks her, empathetically, what's going on. It's such a small
moment, but to me, it feels especially touching. It's not often that we see
Hedgehog as the half of their friendship in need of guidance, and that's
what makes "Tomorrow's Bananas" feel like such a gratifying exploration of
both her as an individual and her dynamic with Oscar. Naturally, she comes
clean to him about the farro seeds, and from there, the narrative can
progress with them fully in-sync.
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
"Tomorrow's Bananas" is also, it's important to note, brilliantly funny. For
as much as its conflicting timelines feed into Hedgehog's meltdown, they also
offer delightful, rapid-fire visual gags. (What other episode would offer the
glorious visuals of hardened, delinquent versions of both Oscar and Hedgehog?)
The plot also devolves into some entertaining buddy comedy once Osc-Hog
attempt to quietly infiltrate Susie's pantry for a magical spice grinder to
destroy the farro seeds: as Oscar scrambles inelegantly about her kitchen,
Hedgehog bores and distracts Susie with feigned miscomprehension of a
painfully simple door-opening spell. ("Step 1: Say 'Welcome.'" Hedgehog: "I
can't get a handle on it.")
<p>
Of course, eventually Susie catches on, and she helps guide the episode to a
graceful conclusion. While, as I mentioned earlier, her involvement isn't
unakin to her swooping in at the end of "Jeremiah," I appreciate her
appearance more here because it doesn't sideline Oscar and Hedgehog; it
brings them back down to earth, and gives her a chance to quell Hedgehog's
anxieties in a surprisingly affecting way. They all take a walk down to
Susie's basement, where she explains that, unlike what Hedgehog heard
earlier, farro seeds don't forecast a definite future; they merely
demonstrate potential outcomes. As she and Hedgehog stare at the ceiling,
farro seeds floating mid-air like stars in the night sky, Susie stresses
that in a realm of extensive possibilities, the only guarantee is that
there's an endless amount of ways the future could go... so don't spend all
of the present worrying about it.
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
It's such a simple message, but in true <i>SCI</i> fashion, it's delivered
against such a thrilling context and with so much pathos that it resonates
beautifully. In that sense, "Tomorrow's Bananas" is the show at its absolute
best: it manages to play to the emotional and whimsical strengths of the show
while still feeling fresh, and it's always in touch with itself, allowing it
to deliver a message that really sticks with you. As a fellow sufferer of
anxiety (among other maladies), there's nothing I appreciate more than a show
like <i>Summer Camp Island</i> that truly understands what it's like to
live with imperfection and manages to address it with spectacular earnestness
and heart. That's the sort of messaging that children's television is made
for, and considering how rare it can be to find it elsewhere, that's what
makes it so enduring.
<p></p>
<p>
<b>FINAL GRADES:<br />"Jeremiah": C+.<br />"Tomorrow's Bananas": A+.</b>
</p>
<p>
<i>Next review: A mouse and a snowflake go on a journey, and Osc-Hog goes camping!</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>For my last reviews of "Oscar & His Demon" and "The Emily Ghost
Institute for Manners and Magical Etiquette,"
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/08/summer-camp-island-review-oscar-his.html">CLICK HERE</a>.</i>
</p>
<p><i></i></p>
<p>
<i>If you like my stuff, be sure to follow me on Twitter
<a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>.</i>
</p>
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</div>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-75289770207820404612021-08-14T00:30:00.005-05:002021-08-14T00:33:10.354-05:00Summer Camp Island Review: Oscar & His Demon / The Emily Ghost Institute for Manners and Magical Etiquette<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLmwqjNiqFbfiARz779UME81wCAbaT3-fQl7HFz0O_OC9PNVE-0GaN-3WCkRh3CeRxqDojCaZDM9kMXAYAoxaWRZUQOhI7tPjU3kec4hdr4rz79Ys9nsV8yJ68CTycVzqk-P70pFS95uw/s2048/Screenshot+%252811642%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLmwqjNiqFbfiARz779UME81wCAbaT3-fQl7HFz0O_OC9PNVE-0GaN-3WCkRh3CeRxqDojCaZDM9kMXAYAoxaWRZUQOhI7tPjU3kec4hdr4rz79Ys9nsV8yJ68CTycVzqk-P70pFS95uw/s16000/Screenshot+%252811642%2529.png" width="518" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: xx-large;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><i>"Shh!</i></span></span></span><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>"</i></b></span></div>
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<p>
It's been too long since I've written a review of this
show! Let's jump right into it with two more Oscar-centric offerings: "Oscar
& His Demon" and "The Emily Ghost Institute for Manners and Magical
Etiquette.
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
<b> "Oscar & His Demon"</b> is, to put it plain and simple, the season's
first big home run. That's not a strike against the season at all; there's been
an appreciably experimental vibe, with <i>SCI</i> trying out different ideas and
shifting its priorities around in curious, thoughtful ways. This feels like the
first time that curiosity has crystallized into something truly solid, though,
and despite the fact that it frames itself in such a unique way, it manages to
highlight the show's greatest qualities, fully unhindered by its theoretical
sense of restraint.
<p>
What's immediately striking about the episode is that it takes place, almost
entirely, in silence. It's a risk that a lot of shows have taken, and it makes
sense for <i>SCI</i> to take an interest to that concept; for as integral as its
dialogue usually is, I've always felt that it was a show that had an astute
ear for sound design and low-key visual humor. We've seen drips and drabs of
what magic the show can do when it holds its tongue—both "Time Traveling Quick
Pants" and "Radio Silence" establish a strong precedent for the success of an
episode like this—so I was naturally excited to hear that the show would be,
in "Oscar & His Demon," fully committed to the concept. But what makes the
episode so great isn't just that it succeeds at that challenge; it uses the
opportunity to tell a compelling, meaningful story about Oscar's character.<span></span></p><a name='more'></a>
<p></p>
<p></p>
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</div>
It doesn't hurt that the premise is delightfully characteristic of the show:
when the library's door hinge breaks, the entire island is forced to observe its
rules by operating in respectful silence. Oscar, then, is tasked with retrieving
berries for a door repair potion, but things quickly come to a halt when he
discovers that the one path to the berry patch is guarded by two menacing eyes
peering out the hole of a nearby tree. Under normal circumstances, Oscar could
fan out of his anxieties to Hedgehog, or indeed, anyone else, but the silence
turns him into a liability. Without the ability to communicate his fears beyond
nervous shrugs, he's left to resolve the situation on his own, to build up the
courage and find the ingenuity to solve the problem that's plaguing him lest he
hold up the progress of the entire island.
<p></p>
I can't think of a worse nightmare for the character than being forced to face
up to fears that others refuse to assist him in confronting, let alone
understand; Hedgehog merely shakes her head in dismay and silently shouts
"Oscar!" to herself, and the librarian scolds him for his lack of urgency. The
closest he gets to camaraderie is his attempt to get Howard to protect him
across the bridge, which works about as well as anyone who knows Howard's
character would expect. (Badly—just let the poor guy measure his bushes!)
<div>
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<p>
"Oscar & His Demon" really takes off, though, once Oscar feels
strong-armed into taking things into his own hands. He attempts to distract
the creature with a pile of oranges, but when they all get snatched up
before he's done picking the berry patch, he finds himself cornered... and
motivated to outsmart the beast. It's a flash of brilliance from the
character, and one indebted to his childish perception of things,
constructing a large bit of camouflage from wood and scraps from his picnic
basket to appear as a freakish, tall beast; even better, it works... only to
reveal that the two eyes glaring at him inside the tree were the fur
patterns on a rabbit's ears who was doing the same.
</p>
<p>
Since Season 2's masterful "<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2020/07/summer-camp-island-just-you-and-me-glow.html">Glow Worm</a>," I've been dying to see
<i>SCI</i> delve deeper into the sweetness intrinsic to Oscar's character,
and "Oscar & His Demon" is delightfully attentive to that. When he sees
the rabbit leap out of the hole in fear and cower behind it, Oscar
immediately gives up the ghost and reveals his trick, befriending the
creature with a couple berries. That's the sort of plot development which
demonstrates, to me, the thoughtful strength of the show's writing; it's
this little moment of "Hey, there was nothing to be scared of after all!"
that doesn't feel cynical so much as pure and well-observed. It's a victory
for Oscar that alleviates him of his anxieties and restores him to his best
self, even making a new friend in the process!
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
Now, the ending of the episode has proven to be... perhaps a bit polarizing.
It's a strange note to close things on, even if I can get what "Oscar & His
Demon" is aiming for. When Oscar's celebration upon fixing the door is met
with aggressive shushes because he's still standing inside of the library, his
new bunny friend goes off on them for not living lives filled with wonder and
spontaneity. I think it's a good way to bring the cathartic nature of the
episode to a head, personally; after enduring so much time in isolation,
surrounded by people who fail to understand his struggles and ultimate
success, Oscar deserves to celebrate and verbalize his personal triumph. The
ultimate down note of the rabbit's speech that we close out on is perhaps a
bit too mean-spirited, but I love that someone will defend Oscar's right to
his pride and joy on his own behalf—it's not like he ever would himself.
Ultimately, too, I can't complain about the show exploring new tones; if
anything, it's a nice, experimental book-end to such a winningly experimental
episode.
<p></p>
<b>"The Emily Ghost Institute of Manners and Magical Etiquette,"</b> in
addition to running away with the title of "longest <i>Summer Camp Island</i> episode
name ever," further feeds into an exploration of Oscar's guileless character
by turning a core tenet of who he is on its head. What if, despite Oscar's
best efforts, he's not as nice of a person as he prides himself on being? He
may be a gentleman by the standards of your everyday animal-folk, but
following a chance encounter with Ghost the Ernest—so insulted by having the
door held for him that he insists on delivering Oscar a knuckle sandwich—Oscar
realizes it might be in his best interest to learn proper etiquette for the
new sorts of characters he interacts with in his daily, summer camp life.
</div>
<div>
<p></p>
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</div>
Perhaps the most unique offering of "Emily Ghost" is that it enables
<i>SCI</i> to indulge in broadening the show's mythology in quiet but
effective ways, exploring the different manners of the island's more
otherworldly inhabitants. There's something incredibly charming to me about
the idea that every strange creature—the aliens, monsters, witches, moles,
elves, and beyond—still lives within a polite society, and what's not to love
about details as specific as, "Don't say you like a sasquatch's house or
they'll feel pressured to give you a tour, and they hate giving tours"? The
inciting conflict of Oscar holding a door for a ghost is even justified in a
very thoughtful way by the episode's end; being able to float through stuff is
sort of the only perk of being a ghost, so what kind of person would you be to
deprive them of that?
<p>
Unfortunately for Oscar, however, his tutelage under Emily Ghost on those
various facets of island life is... less than amicable, and he spends pretty
much the entire episode facing her scrutiny over impulses that he struggles
to control. It's true that Oscar can be, to quote Hedgehog, "thicker than
toothpaste," and he repeats his errors enough times that he can't be faulted
for annoying Emily on the occasion. (He does hold the door open for ghosts
regularly across the episode.) At the same time, it feels a bit mean that
his polite, legitimate eagerness to learn and inquire is met with repeated
hostility. Hedgehog being by his side is a nice way to keep the world from
punching down on Oscar too much, but he's in an environment that sets him up
to fail. The fact that Oscar is so intrinsically lovable means that he's
adorable throughout it all and a source of empathy, but that simultaneously
makes me wish that he got his dues more than the episode allowed him
to.
</p>
<p></p>
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Even if Emily remains stuck in her ways, though, I like that the episode is
quick to remind us that the way Oscar lives his life works for him, and that
his worldview isn't strictly invalid. I think that crystallizes most nicely in
the small moment where Emily scolds Oscar for telling his problems to
Hedgehog, despite it being impolite to do so to a witch; even upon hearing
that, Hedgehog continues to tend to his needs and try helping him pass Emily's
exam, refusing to be fazed by the sudden stigma. The ending of the episode
also speaks to that in a slightly more direct way, with Oscar settling his
differences with Ghost the Ernest and finally nailing his door etiquette.
Ernest declares him a "very polite elephant," and even if he doesn't have
academic validation for his manners, it's his success in the real world that
matters the most.
<p></p>I do want to end things on a slightly more critical, retrospective note. (Taking notes from the rabbit in "Oscar & His Demon," perhaps.) Although both episodes were incredibly triumphant, and in fact my favorites of
the season thus far, it feels strange that almost everything this season is
coming up roses for Oscar. Hedgehog's appeared in meaningful roles
here and there (most notably in "Breakfast Like Grace Kelly" and "Emily
Ghost"), but it's rather imbalanced that, by the season's midpoint, she's
become an elusive commodity despite ostensibly being a dual lead.
Here's hoping that we can see more of her going forward—in a season teeming
with variety, it would be nice to see that come through in the casting,
too. We've crystallized on Oscar's potential to great effect, especially in these two wonderful entries... so what about passing the baton?<br />
<p>
<b>FINAL GRADES:<br />"Oscar & His Demon": A+.<br />"The Emily Ghost
Institute for Manners and Magical Etiquette": A-. </b>
</p>
<p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;"><i>Next review: Oscar becomes a father, and Hedgehog experiments with bananas.</i></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;"><i>For my last reviews of "Breakfast Like Gene Kelly" and "Spirit Balls," <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/summer-camp-island-review-breakfast.html">CLICK HERE</a>.</i></p><p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;"><i>If you like my stuff, be sure to follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>.</i></p><p>
</p><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;"><i>If you think my articles are good, that's probably because of my editor, Glass! Follow them on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Glass_Shardon" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Glass_Shardon</a>.</i></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 13.2px;"><i><br /></i></div>
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Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-84938135282550884692021-07-28T16:44:00.005-05:002023-10-15T01:11:03.955-05:00Saturday Night Live, Reviewed and Ranked: Season 3<p></p>
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<p></p>
<div style="background-color: white; clear: both; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>"I never watch television. Never. I don't even own a television.
Electricity is evil. It kills the creative mindset."</b></i></span></span>
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<p></p>
<p>Of the first five seasons of the show, I've been most curious about Season 3. Beyond the fact that it's well-regarded as the finest of the original era, it feels like all of the wonders of the show are coming in at a fevered pitch. There's some legendary episodes here, from Charles Grodin, to the atomic lobsters, to the quintessential Steve Martin gig. There are points of intrigue, like Hugh Hefner, returning alum host Chevy Chase, or Miskel Spillman and the Anyone Can Host competition. Gary Weiss is on the way out, and Tom Schiller's on the way in. And there's also O. J. Simpson. Basically, there's a lot to look forward to, and also O. J. Simpson!</p><p>Does Season 3 live up to its mythical status in the pantheon of <i>Saturday Night Live</i>? Scroll down and find out!</p><p>For my reviews of the preceding season, Season 2, <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">CLICK HERE</a>!</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><h2>9/24/77: Steve Martin / Jackson Browne (S3 E01)</h2>
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<p>
It's easy to recognize the SNL super-host gene in Steve Martin, but in his
third time around the studio, we're still not really there. To this episode's
credit, it's the closest to a successful Steve Martin-hosted episode of SNL
yet, though its successes also don't feel attached strictly to Steve's
magnetism. He's in the finest and most versatile form of any of his hosting
stints yet, but suspiciously, some of the night's best material
succeeds in disregard for his presence so much as the energetic, robust feel
of being a big, shiny season premiere.
</p>
<p>
That sense of excitement and freshness is what powers the episode along for
me, right from the Jumbotron opening montage and Steve's excited walk down to
the show's newest home base (even if the intro music is now decked-out with
poorly-aged, horribly synths). Two other things also jumped out to me rather
immediately, and most tantalizingly for the season to come. For one, the
show's fake commercials have gotten a serious upgrade; usually relegated to
brief bits woven into the middle of Weekend Update, they've now got a far
better sense of polish, showcasing an attention to detail in the season's
debut commercial parody that plays a heavy hand in selling the overall
concept—the sublime, briss-friendly Royal Deluxe II. Similarly, while I've
heard a lot of scary things about what this season's Weekend Updates will look
like, this inaugural iteration was pretty dang delightful, taking the form of
a more proper newscast featuring a weather update and reports from almost the
entire cast. Even if it's a proof of concept for what would go on to be a
mangled iteration of Update, it makes a great first impression.
</p>
<p>
As for Steve himself, while he only got two proper sketches, he gave them his
best shot. The better of the two was the debut Festrunk sketch; perhaps it was
more low-key than the mythical recurring characters I've heard so much about,
but I think that played to the sketch's benefit here, churning out a strong
character piece buoyed by Steve and Dan's improbable charm. More than just
being sexually-minded weirdos, they're two naive, silly guys just looking for
a good time, and that silliness transferred over to me wonderfully. His other
sketch, and the night's centerpiece, was far harder to swallow, though Steve
gave it his best shot and I can't blame its failures on him. "Mike McMack,
Defense Lawyer" is just way too dark and ill-handled for me to know what to do
with it. There's an interesting, satirical edge to it, the idea that lawyers
are in it for the ego-soaked gamesmanship rather than justice, but the show
trips on itself by its cruelty to Gilda, played with deadening, almost-painful
straightness. (Her sobbing while Steve hit on her after labelling her as
liable for being raped, and while her defendant patted him on the back for
knowingly whipping the jury around over his guilty client, just made me feel
unwell.)
</p>
<p>
The rest of the night's offerings maintained a pretty fun vibe, fully-formed
or not. The best of those was Dan's confession booth piece with Garrett, a
spiritual successor to the winning "ATM" sketch last season where confessions
are quantified by a computer algorithm. Meanwhile, Franken and Davis manage to
wring a few laughs out of their pageant sketch (slight but remarkable praise
for them, truly), and John pulls of a fun, physical turn performing an
inelegant musical number as Roy Orbison. (I do wish it were framed more
immediately though, like his Joe Cocker performance from Season 1; the
framework with Laraine just felt dead.) All in all, a pretty good night, even
if Steve Martin's got a ways to go. <i>(Penned 6/27/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2>10/08/77: Madeline Kahn / Taj Mahal (S3 E02)</h2>
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<p>
Madeline Kahn's second episode is, disappointingly, a bit hard to find a
stance on. I don't think it was the worst thing ever, and considering what
I've seen from the last three seasons, there's honestly some merit to what
gets brought to the table here. But there's also aimlessness in equal strokes,
and perhaps most frustratingly, Madeline's first episode—which was rightfully
a revelation—casts a heavy shadow over the mediocre patches that plague her
return.
</p>
<p>
The best sketches were generally speaking the ones without Madeline's
involvement, but I don't think that's a strike against her. The show just
didn't know what to present to her as a host, and it's the fault of the
writing more than anything else that Madeline doesn't get much to do besides
sing and awkwardly maintain aimless conversation with Dame Edna. She gave
strong performances across the night, even if most of what she applied herself
to throttled her chance to charm; the final sketch, pairing her with Gilda
for a sweet, Marilyn Suzanne Miller slice-of-life piece, glowingly proved that
the Madeline of 1976 is still here.
</p>
<p>
But as I said, the night shone elsewhere. Bill's "Swill" sketch is another
home run for the season's fake commercial department (the visual of the soda
can tab slowly oozing out of the bottle destroyed me), and though more
low-key, Dan submits similarly-sublime work to the later "Pocket Pal" piece;
his complete 180 from the stiff, professional spokesperson delivery of his
commercial pitch to a stiff-bodied, blood-curdling scream was one of the
hardest laughs the show's given me in this era. (Alongside the Hercules voice
dub sketch, it's a nice reminder of Dan's strengths, especially in the
aftermath of his distressingly terrible Update performance.) Gilda and
Laraine's "The Pink Box" sketch is also incredibly strong and one of this
era's best women-centric pieces, advertising a women's hygiene product so
personal that even women don't know what it's for. Less successful were the
inaugural Schiller's Reel, even if it was a bit cute, and Garrett and John's
"reverse discrimination" sketch, a piece which, like last episode's lawyer
sketch, bungles its intent despite its toothy premise by placing its edge in
the wrong places. The show's done far worse, at least.
</p>
<p>
Ultimately, this is a very mixed episode, but I think its wins are truly
solid. I'll gladly take an episode that manages to get there in waves over one
that struggles the entire time. <i>(Penned 6/28/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<h2>10/15/77: Hugh Hefner / Libby Titus (S3 E03)</h2>
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<p>
Hugh Hefner is a figure that I'll never be able to really get. If it's any
distillation of that absolute confusion at the guy, at one point during his
hosting stint, he announces, "I'm noted sex authority Hugh Hefner" to
<i>no laughs</i> because everyone just willingly
<i>accepts that as a fact</i>, and that's <i>weird!</i> But alas, in spite of
the fact that this episode was strangely intent to massage his ego, I thought
that it was a fair enough outing for the show given the many ways that it
could've gone terribly wrong.
</p>
<p>
A lot of that comes from the fact that while Hugh is a stiff performer who
never has his public image challenged by he episode's writing, he rolls gamely
with the reverence the writing seems to hold for him. There's never vibes of
noncompliance or forced politeness from either party in the same way that,
say, the Elon Musk episode feels like it was manufactured at gunpoint, and
while it's perhaps weird that SNL seems to have no pause working with Hugh,
everyone seems happy enough, and everyone's trying at something. With that
being said, it doesn't tend to land; a filmed piece where Hugh narrates about
his life as if the hedonistic universe he created for himself is a curse is
hurt irreparably by Hugh's lack of comic instinct, and the sketch casting him
as an ancient Greek philosopher espousing upon the wisdom of his debauchery
reeked of Jost-tier pleasuring. I didn't mind the innuendo-heavy "Planet of
the Men vs. Planet of the Women" sketch, though; it's a guilty-pleasure piece
for sure but I found some joy in its kitsch and was surprised by the fact that
it caricatured both of its parties with a campy, balanced sense of irreverence
rather than poorly-aged hackiness.
</p>
<p>
As with the preceding Madeline Kahn episode, some of the most valuable pieces
were the ones less centered on Hugh's involvement. Jane's "Angora Bouquet"
fake commercial was surprisingly incisive and a great display of the sort of
deadpan bite Jane gets to deploy when she's at her best, and John got one of
the best distillations of his anarchy yet in the "Listening to Great Music"
piece, finding him sliding into maniacal fury as he gets more enraptured by
Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries." Bill runs away with it this episode, though,
with his funeral magician piece; I always love the sketches that cast him as
an artificial, show-biz shmuck at the helm of an incongruous situation (see
his debut execution rehearsal piece), and he navigates the piece with so much
assuredness that he almost makes members of his fellow cast tonight look jaded
in comparison. The episode's obligatory, less successful bits were another
rendition of "John abuses Gilda: the sketch" and our debut "X-Police"
installment, a continuation of the rule that every Season 3 episode has to
have that one sketch that has the ability to work in its transgressive tone
but which frustratingly misaligns itself. (I almost liked it, but it's too
hard to laugh at Jane's life being wrecked; there's a reason that the
similarly-minded "Police State" sketch from S1 didn't fuck with pathos.)
</p>
<p>
Maybe it was just because I expected so much worse, but while this episode
isn't the best, I found some value in it. A poor man's Ralph Nader isn't the
worst thing to be, it seems. <i>(Penned 6/28/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<h2>10/29/77: Charles Grodin / Paul Simon (S3 E04)</h2>
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<p>
Is there a feeling in the universe more gratifying than when something that's
been talked up to you endlessly turns out to be, in fact, as astounding as
they claim? Probably, but it's still a damn good feeling, and the Charles
Grodin episode sent a nice shock wave of pure joy into my brain, the likes of
which this era has never seen before, and in some ways, that it hasn't really
seen since. Not to immediately jump to the conclusion that this is one of the
best SNL episodes ever, a measurement which is impossible to quantify, but
it's definitely up there as an all-timer and a sublime curio piece that does
everything it's intent on doing to absolute perfection.
</p>
<p>
The basic idea is thus: Charles Grodin, the host of the show, has been flaky
all week and failed to attend the show's dress rehearsal (the cold open
reveals he had to run out and get gifts for everyone before stores closed).
What follows is an episode where the host sabotages every single sketch
that he appears in through complete confusion and obliviousness to what his
duties as a host are, or indeed what SNL is. All he knows is that he wants to
sing his song, which he's worked very hard on. It's all fake, of course, but
it's a testament to its absolute lunacy and the mythology of the show that
this episode is all-too-frequently declared a legendary trainwreck episode
that concluded with Grodin being banned from the show for his mind-numbing
incompetence.
</p>
<p>
Clearly, none of those people have actually watched the episode, though, which
plays its meta game absolutely perfectly. A lot of that is just... the powers
of Charles Grodin. He has the perfectly solemn, lost sort of face for the gig
at hand, and he's so damn good at playing himself as a guy who is truly,
pitifully doomed to fail but genially trying to figure things out as they
happen. Perhaps most memorably, he crashes through a Futaba sketch, which is
the best outcome that could've come of a Futaba sketch really; his polite
praise of John's character work, scene-halting deconstruction of a
three-second gag, and mistaken reading of one of John's gibberish lines off of
a cue card were all absolutely sublime. He similarly overturns a "Killer Bees"
sketch, which plays to even greater, more destructive effect, sparking a
confused discussion amongst the cast over what the Killer Bees are actually
supposed to be—an "etymological masquerade," Dan says, which has to be one of
his greatest, most Dan lines ever—before John gives an impassioned, furious
speech about how Charles has destroyed the show. (He naturally fails to pay
attention to due to his fascination with John's bouncing antennae.) Charles is
at the height of his powers, though, in his impromptu duet with Paul Simon,
wearing a Garfunkel wig much to Paul's confusion and discomfort and asking for
playback on a high note that he fails to hit.
</p>
<p>
The episode is also smart to throw about some more traditional sketches
unrelated to the episode's main conceit to give the show more proper form. The
Coneheads return for one of their most classic installments, handing out
six-packs of beer and fried eggs to trick-or-treaters because oh yeah, this is
also the Halloween episode! And speaking of, Irvin Mainway returns to hock
some of his horrific, discount Halloween costumes and prove that even outside
of the first "Consumer Probe," he's a welcome guest for any evening. Lastly,
Gilda gets one of her biggest highlights yet in her "Judy Miller" piece,
playing a young, hyperactive child imagining her own talk show. It's not high
on laughs, but as with other Mary Suzanne Miller sketches, there's something
to admire in how lived-in it is, and how much of a physical and believable
performance Gilda is able to bring to the writing. She's endearing.
</p>
<div>
Basically, everything about the night doesn't just work—it excels. It breaks
the standard that SNL has set for itself up to this point so that it can do
its own thing, for one night only, and have a bomb-ass time with it. I can
never hate that, and fortunately, the night is so good that hatred was never
an option. <i>(Penned 6/29/21)</i>
</div>
<p><b>GRADE: A+.</b></p>
<h2>11/12/77: Ray Charles (S3 E05)</h2>
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<p>
It's a bit hard to say what one could even ask for out of a Ray Charles
episode. Sure, he didn't get a lot of material to sink into, but the guy's got
some things that create inherent difficulties with the idea of acting, and the
fact that he gamely participated in as many bits as he did is already a
testament to his enthusiasm enough. Ray's effusively charming, and he brings
life to everything he's handed no matter how basic the writing may be. It
would be easy for this episode to slip into a hackathon of blind jokes, but
Ray deftly maintains the upper hand through it all and keeps things fun with
sly admissions to the audience that he's not as dumb as the show
(fictitiously) thinks he is. Yes, he knows he's not in Carnegie Hall right
now, but he's also not the real Ray Charles—the real Ray Charles is
<i>at</i> the real Carnegie Hall. And yes, he knows that Mr. Mike didn't
present him with a real Monet as an expression of gratitude ("Hard to
describe, you sort of have to see it"), and he's gonna get Mr. Mike beaten up
by the biggest Black dudes he can find at the after-party.
</p>
<p>
Ray's best comedic moments are his banter in between performances, but he
navigates the night's sketches with far more assuredness than I expected... though
it's indeed true that he has nothing to prove. There's not any big winners but
everything works amicably enough. The better comedic pieces of the night were
the ones held down by the cast: Dan gave one of his best Carter performances
yet in a piece shunning Americans for refusing to support his energy program,
and Gilda got to bring back her delightful, widowed Debbie Doody character.
I'm a simple man and the visual of her and Laraine flopping around as
marionettes brings me insurmountable amounts of joy.
</p>
<p>
But the night's all about Ray's musical performances, and boy are they
absolutely spellbinding. He manages to convert one of the most intimidating
episode types of this era—the musical episode that trades in its sketch
content for full-on concert vibes—into a joyride rather than a chore, packing
all of his best hits but performing them with as much vigor as you could
possibly dream of. Plus, that moment right before the goodnights, where the
entire cast is gathered around Ray at the piano on center stage, just singing
"I Can't Stop Loving You" along with him (John busts in some of his Ray
impression for good measure)... that's gotta be one of the most charming
moments of this era. You can just tell that's one of the moments where
everyone on stage, all giggly and excited, is living the dream. It's an
infectious night of SNL, if there ever was one. <i>(Penned 6/30/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2>11/19/77: Buck Henry / Leon Redbone (S3 E06)</h2>
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<p>
One of the season's most intriguing offerings, its "Anyone Can Host"
competition, has been quietly building in the background across the past few
episodes, but here, it finally comes to a head. As a result, it's a bit of an
odd hour, but I think it's carried along as smoothly and thoughtfully as it
could've possibly been carried. It's not a roaring success, but it intrigues,
and that's not a bad flavor for an SNL episode to have either. More than
anything else here, I think this episode speaks strongly to the show's love
and trust in its first five-timer Buck Henry, calling him up to moderate over
the five contestants and otherwise carry a low-key but writerly night's worth
of material. I'm hard on Buck's hosting gigs a lot of the time—he's almost too
game of a host for these early season's most trying reflexes—but when he
works, he's the best, and this episode is a nice reminder of how snugly he
fits into the show and keeps things tight and to-the-point.
</p>
<p>
Maybe I'm also just excited that the night allowed him to play a wider ranger
of roles than usual. Buck can will anything into working to some degree due to
how affable he is, so it's nice to see that funneled into unique concepts.
While I wasn't the biggest fan of either piece, both "Reunion in Kiev" and
"Ricky Rat Club" tried at something different and, if not fully successful,
make for wonderful demonstrations of the show's trust in Buck and Buck's trust
in the show. Buck and Bill also brought just the right amount of goofy energy
to the fantastic "stunt baby" sketch; I get how it wouldn't work for a lot of
people, but I feel like it bypasses the grim premise of "baby abuse" in favor
of pure absurdism through the internal logic that the baby has free will and
is a show-biz professional who gamely carries out his duties, which just so
happens to mean being slammed around and thrown out a fucking window.
</p>
<p>
The episode is really all about the five finalists, though, and even if most
of them aren't too much to write home about (they shine the brightest in a
Gary Weis film, each taking turns trying to twist Buck in their favor), it's
amusing how obvious Miskel Spillman is as the only true candidate for the job.
Sandwiched between three amicably bland contestants and a clearly deranged
man, her assured one-liners charm as much as they destroy. It's a testament to
the fact that she's got the contest in the bag that when everyone else is
making final, desperate pleas to be voted on, she doesn't even tell a joke so
much as saying that she had the greatest night of her life. Team Miskel
forever! <i>(Penned 7/01/21)</i>
</p><p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<h2>12/10/77: Mary Kay Place / Willie Nelson (S3 E07)</h2>
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<p>
Amidst this stretch of episodes either comprised of recognizable hosts (Steve
Martin, Madeline Kahn, Buck) or curious anomalies (Hugh Hefner, Charles
Grodin, Ray Charles), I went into Mary Kay Place's episode with absolutely
zero expectations of anything, and that mentality paid of: this was a solid
night of comedy with a decidedly fresh vibe. It's rare to see a female host in
this era who feels like they're on the same wavelength as the cast, but Mary
is absolutely perfect, especially when paired with the ladies. That's great,
too, considering how rarely it feels like Jane, Gilda, and Laraine get to hold
up a scene without help from the boys; for once, we get a rare episode of SNL
that has a feminine slant, and which is all the more successful for it.
</p>
<p>
The night had two big ensemble pieces, and both were greatly successful. The
"Total Womanhood" sketch was incisive as all hell in a latitude that SNL—in
its love of sketches where Gilda gets beat up—has seldom been, taking on the
conceit of a group of women detailing their subservient exploits and assessing
if they've been submissive enough to the unconscious desires and expectations
of their husbands. (Leading off a prayer at the end, Mary Kay asks God to
renew her Valium prescription, "and let it be not 5s, but 10s.") And more
farcical but delightfully smarmy all the same, the "Married in a Minute!"
sketch makes for a hilarious deconstruction of woman's films where the
characters come from nothing and attain their wildest dreams with minimal
adversity so much as millions of dollars and invitations from royalty
littering their free penthouse suite.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the material was pretty darn great, too. Gilda headlined the
simple but effective "Hey You!" perfume ad, another winner in these season's
line of fake commercials; the Farbers returned for some nice, low-key
silliness, with the addition of a flashback sequence and a fun quick-change
gaffe; and Andy Kaufman hit up the studio again with undoubtedly my favorite
bit of his yet, commanding the stage with nonsensical, foreign gibberish
stand-up that confused the audience as much as it delighted them. (To everyone
who says that Kaufman was too advanced for his audience, just watch how much
they eat his insanity up.) All in all, this was an episode that really snuck
up on me, but I'm glad that it did. <i>(Penned 7/02/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2>12/17/77: Miskel Spillman / Elvis Costello (S3 E08)</h2>
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<p>
It was foolish on my part to expect the Miskel Spillman episode to be better
than it was inevitably bound to be. The "Anyone Can Host" competition is as
exciting as its final outcome is bound for disappointment—at the end of the
day, it culminated with a non-performer hosting SNL, and SNL having to
delicately accommodate for that. Miskel is adorable, but she's unsurprisingly
stiff, and the show never bothers to find that much of an angle for her across
the hour that followed her delicate walk down to center-stage. If anything,
the show seems intent to hide her as much as possible.
</p>
<p>
That's fair enough, I suppose, but even if Miskel isn't a good host, it feels
kind of silly to hide her as much as they did. She's hosting the show because
America wanted to see her host the show, and she maintains the audience's
trust the entire time, but SNL doesn't give her much of a chance to demand it.
She's best in the monologue, zogged out of her mind from one of Belushi's
killer joints and clutching a bowl of fruit while Buck Henry does his best to
wheel her through. (All of her swats at Buck's hands when he tried to snag the
bowl back were delightful.) Elsewhere, she listens to Jane read a story, is
held hostage, and in her biggest role, shows up at John's childhood home as
his new girlfriend, but none of those roles demand her to do much more than
give straightforward reads to the slim dialogue she's contractually obligated
to deliver.
</p>
<p>
Sadly, the episode doesn't pick itself too much in the material that Miskel
isn't a part of, either. The "American Date the Self-Conscious Association"
had some cute scenes with Bill and Gilda, but never found a strong framework,
instead diverting the potential sweetness in their character work for a string
of jokes about spokespeople that ends, tragically, with Dan doing an impaired
voice. "The Gift of the Magi" was saccharine build-up to another cruel and
annoying "John beats Gilda" punchline. "E. Buzz Miller," too, continues to
disappoint me; I want to like Dan's performance, but the material does him no
favors.
</p>
<p>
On the other hand, Bill has a fun turn as a wino Santa, and the night scores
an indelibly fascinating Mr. Mike piece, "The Soiled Kimono." I've been
curious about it for a while since I understand it to be one of O'Donoghue's
masterpieces, and even if it's not the funniest thing ever penned, there's
something very striking about it. It feels like a strange exercise in
world-building, fleshing Mr. Mike out as more than just a dick but some
all-powerful, antagonistic force with a Sisyphean grip on those who come to
him for mercy, or at least a twisted bedtime story. it was atmospheric,
cinematic, and just a hair opaque, but it left me wanting to see more of this
strange little universe O'Donoghue concocted; I was eating right out of the
palm of his hand, which I'm sure is exactly what he wanted and got off to.
</p>
<p>
Either way, there's a reason that this episode is most remembered for Elvis
Costello (even if, in his defense, he fuckin' ripped). At least Miskel looked
priceless in that Santa outfit during the goodnights. <i>(Penned 7/02/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<h2>1/21/78: Steve Martin / The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band (S3 E09)</h2>
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<p>
Ah, Steve Martin! I always walk into the next hosting gig of his in these
years with equal parts excitement and skepticism; his past episodes have
seldom worked amazingly for me, and even if his last one felt like a step in
the right direction, I'd be remiss not to acknowledge the points in which it
struggles. But with his fourth hosting gig, it feels like the show is finally
getting more of a grip on how to imbue its sensibilities with Steve's; there's
a really nice marriage of their styles, and while I still think we're not
really at peak SNL, we're having a good time.
</p>
<p>
I feel like Steve's comedic voice likes to skirt the line between intelligence
and inanity, and I the sketches that made up tonight's rundown spoke to that
tug-and-pull pretty well. The Bigfoot sketch, for instance, is stupid as all
get-out and makes its big reveal fairly early on, but I feel like it's able to
retain a goofy tone throughout in how straight the characters' lack of an
understanding is played; it's an absurd scenario executed in a very earnest
way. Likewise, it's pretty easy for me to be charmed by the visual of Jane,
Bill, and Garrett flossing their bodies with giant pieces of dental floss, but
maybe I just don't require too much.
</p>
<p>
The best pieces of the night were its recurring pieces, which feels
sacrilegious to say of SNL. The Festrunk Brothers are pure, goofy character
work, and they get sold by the power of Dan and Steve's chemistry and
charisma. (Those dance-walks they do!) It's crazy for me to think how quickly
they've already established themselves as beloved characters on their first
return, but there's such a palpable joy to it all, and this installment does a
good job of continuing to build the world around the Festrunks rather than
being another iteration of them hitting aimlessly on American foxes. The later
Coneheads sketch is just as good, transplanting the characters into Family
Feud where hilarity naturally ensues. I feel like I never have a ton to say
about the Coneheads, but really, what's not to love? All you have to do is
drop them into some new context and give them different characters to play off
of (most notably here, Bill's delightfully pervy and scornful Richard Dawson),
and it's a guaranteed success. It's also nice, at least to me, that we've hit
a point in Steve's hosting gigs that he doesn't have to be front-and-center
the entire time; he contributes some fun work to the Coneheads sketch as the
patriarch of their competing family, getting some laughs but never
over-stepping the line like a real team player.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the episode is fine, with only one real clunker ("What If?") and
some terrific musical numbers from The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band; their
performance of "White Russia," accompanied by Steve, was a rip-roarin' affair.
Here's hoping the Steve Martin episodes continue to get better and better.
<i>(Penned 7/02/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A-.</b></p>
<h2>1/28/78: Robert Klein / Bonnie Raitt (S3 E10)</h2>
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<p>
Perhaps I was just too spoiled by Charles Grodin, but I had high hopes going
into Robert Klein (aka the infamous "atomic lobsters" episode), and while I
had a great deal of fun with it, I hesitate to call it a perfect experience. I
think a lot of that comes down to the episode's material, weighted against its
more high-concept storyline. The fact that the lobster theme slowly and
quietly establishes itself as a runner before veering the show out of control
means that it doesn't have the same sort of intoxicating effect as Grodin's
episode, but that also means that it's a show that you can easily pull apart
and assess on the merit of its individual sketches.
</p>
<p>
On the plus side, the good is very good. This episode marks the debut of the
"Olympia Cafe" sketches, a series of sketches whose cultural standing power
surprises me quite a bit. That's not a strike against the sketches by any
means—and there's something hypnotizing and rhythmic about John and Dan's
"cheeseburger" call and responses—but it's a very lived-in character piece
that relishes more in a sense of low-key authenticity than absurdity, and I
think that made it work so well for me. The later "Nick Summers" sketch is
similarly delightful, taking what worked about his debut and creating a piece
that's, overall, more silly and charming. Whereas the first installment
commanded a sense of pathos from Bill's aimless probing at an unreceptive
audience, I loved how this sketch gave him different energies to play off of,
ensuring that his effusive charm never goes to waste. The lounge versions of
Strauss' "Also sprach Zarathustra" and the Star Wars theme, too, are
deservingly classic.
</p>
<p>
On the other hand, though, the ambivalence I had with Robert Klein during his
first hosting stint wasn't assuaged too much by his presence here. He's an
engaged host who's got chemistry with the cast, but his performances across
the night tended to be too distractingly indulgent, even bordering on hacky,
capping off in a particularly exhausting and aimless Jerry Lewis sketch. (He
didn't do a ton of favors for the debut "Nerds" sketch either; it's hard to
carry a premise that's so driven by character work when you play your role as
stereotypically as possible.) With that being said, the general disbelief in
some of his performances also allowed, against all odds, this "X-Police"
installment to land a hair better for me than the first, since his deranged
outburst at the end didn't demand the sort of gut-wrenching sympathy that
Jane's did in the original. (The prison rape joke was gratuitous, though, even
by these sketch's metrics.) So... hooray?
</p>
<p>
All of this eventually takes us to "The Attack of the Atomic Lobsters."
Starting in Update, there's a curious runner building about atomic lobsters
attacking the United States and slowly but surely making their way south to
Manhattan before, in the middle of a sketch... it happens. What ensues is
wonderfully insane and ambitious, but I simultaneously feel like I struggled
to laugh at it so much as marvel at the ingenuity of it all. There's some
insane stop-motion, audience participation, dynamic camerawork, and a gigantic
lobster claw to boot, but it's more bizarre than funny, lacking in obvious
joke-telling at a certain point in favor of general anarchy. For that reason,
gutsy as it is, I hesitate to think if this episode has much rewatch value. It
relies so viscerally on shock that the fact that I knew it was coming probably
doesn't help things either, though if nothing else, I want to applaud it for
its sheer audacity. Robert Klein, against all odds, proved to be a strong host
to carry it out, too; he's got some fun, dramatic capabilities that I wish
could've been more actualized across the preceding material, but at least he
got to send this episode home.
</p>
<p>
Either way, this was a strong outing for the show, whether or not it was an
unequivocal success. There's worse things for an episode to be than ballsy.
<i>(Penned 7/03/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A.</b></p>
<h2>2/18/78: Chevy Chase / Billy Joel (S3 E11)</h2>
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</div>
<p>
Chevy Chase is one of the entertainment industry's greatest villains. Having
grown up with an understanding of him as nothing less than a hot-headed prick
who, as O'Donoghue put it best, "turned into a giant garden slug," it's
strange to look back at a time when he was a sex magnet comedy superstar on
the perch of greatness, at least hypothetically. Watching through his tenure,
despite how much he wobbled between assured and nauseatingly desperate in his
detached, too-cool way, he certainly proved himself to be an integral part of
the show's early DNA and his talents can't be refuted, medium as they may be
by some accounts. With that being said, I was always kept at arm's length from
appreciating him too much because of how generally reprehensible he is...
which takes us to this episode, the first one hosted by an alum, where mere
minutes before going live he got into a screaming match and fistfight with
Bill Murray. Good to have ya back, Chev!
</p>
<p>
At the very least, going in with such low expectations, the episode packed a
handful of nice surprises. The issue is, of course, that you have to put up
with a lot of Chevy Chevy-ing around to get there, and his antics made for an
exhausting, smug bedrock to a lot of the material. The baggage inspection
sketch would perhaps work better for me if Chevy's wink-wink way of playing
clueless characters didn't annoy me as much as it did; the sermonette sketch,
meanwhile, had no chance of working at all. The cold open and monologue, too,
are perhaps most interesting because of how visibly shaken-up Chevy is from
his altercation with Bill, though that's a novelty that doesn't elevate the
material in any way as if lukewarm Gerald Ford fumbling and an onslaught of
deliberate applause breaks had much of a shot.
</p>
<p>
Chevy was at his best when the show was able to rein him in and use him as
more of a team player. His bedroom scene with Gilda was excellent, and coming
off the heels of the monologue, it was a piece that caused me not to abandon
hope for the episode immediately. It's a knock-out Marilyn Suzanne Miller
sketch that finds just the right balance between its slice-of-life nature and
quality laughlines, all buoyed by Gilda and Chevy's natural chemistry. The
"Endings" sketch that closes out the night, meanwhile, is beautiful, meta
insanity, packing fake-out after fake-out as scenarios fall apart under the
weight of the show's farcical standard for the perfect out. (One of my
favorite in-jokes is Jane attempting to transition to a film by Gary Weiss
before falling dead.) Meta humor is hard, but I've been impressed by how much
these early seasons have weighed the self-indulgence of it all with supreme
self-deprecation, the likes of which modern SNL, in its smarmy "So what?"
attitude, seems nigh-incapable of possessing.
</p>
<p>
Do two amazing sketches (and an intriguing Gary Weiss film) undo the great
struggles of having Chevy back? Ehh. At least this season's still intent to
pack a punch even when nothing else can be depended on.
<i>(Penned 7/04/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<h2>2/25/78: O. J. Simpson / Ashford & Simpson (S3 E12)</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIYms4n3S5HRXR4DWYvB8wNvoLNKT0_d2ORIeYzB626buKZ7NG17yAJOe9dmYHapqgumJoVC7zFg-7MVQGwVXmEgOtKkHWwMBxkwNv8FqnZ4ltLc8f9hkNh0lt1rct1z7AFFRRPO692hI/s2048/Screenshot+%252811051%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIYms4n3S5HRXR4DWYvB8wNvoLNKT0_d2ORIeYzB626buKZ7NG17yAJOe9dmYHapqgumJoVC7zFg-7MVQGwVXmEgOtKkHWwMBxkwNv8FqnZ4ltLc8f9hkNh0lt1rct1z7AFFRRPO692hI/s16000/Screenshot+%252811051%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
O. J. Simpson. Jesus fuck. As a child of the 2000's, it's not just hard to go
back to a time when he was America's meat-headed, athletic sweetheart; it's
impossible. With that being said, it's not like I was walking into the episode
bracing for disappointment; if anything, I was expecting to be wowed in spite
of myself. The episode's notoriety seems to be the two-parter of, "Holy shit,
that murderer O. J. Simpson hosted the show???", followed by, "Holy shit, he
did a good job???". And to his credit, Simpson gives this episode his all,
pouring as much charisma into proceedings as possible, but while I can't accuse him of bringing his hosting stint down, there just wasn't anything here to
begin with. In a lot of ways, his monologue embodies the episode that follows:
as I watched Simpson talk sincerely about his career with a goddamn Coneheads
cone on his head, I just had to wonder, what exactly was SNL trying to
<i>accomplish</i> here?
</p>
<p>
I mean, starting things off with a sprawling, epic Futaba-<i>Saturday Night Fever</i>
parody is as bad of an omen as I could possibly imagine. I get it; Belushi's a
star, and with that comes the carte blanche of being able to do whatever the
hell you want, but sometimes... don't? His Travolta-Futaba intonations managed
to supersede his usual racist gibberish with brain-damaged murmurs, and the
sketch itself drifted aimlessly through a meandering homage that seemed to
exist as an excuse for John to fuck around on the dance floor to the tune of
"Staying Alive." Congrats, buddy.
</p>
<p>
After that, the episode settles into the groove of relying on O. J., but never
giving him anything to make his own, navigating a string of fairly slight
premises. (Perhaps it's no surprise that this also features the show's first
big impression parade, "The Raid on Nicosia.") Sometimes the results of that
are okay: I didn't mind the night's final sketch, pitting athletic Black men
against white women in some pathetically one-sided Olympic games, and the Babe
Ruth sketch was just dumb enough to get over for me, if not in large part
because Garrett made a fucking meal out of it. Other times, you get "Mandingo
2" which... ugh. Look guys, by which I mean the stupid white guy who probably
looks like Al Franken and who definitely wrote this sketch: I get the idea of
doing a parody of a shameless exploitation film, but that doesn't make SNL any
less grossly exploitative to have Garrett dress as a slave mistress and
sloppily make out with O. J. Simpson. I don't need another pungent reminder of
how much SNL's internal politics sucked. Be better.
</p>
<p>
At the end of the day, everyone certainly tried at something here, but I
suppose it isn't surprising that so little of the O. J. Simpson episode has
withstood the test of time. <i>(Penned 7/15/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C.</b></p>
<h2>3/11/78: Art Garfunkel / Stephen Bishop (S3 E13)</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9G1KhPpTOYP83nj4yOLTbZGiIML0IEWY3unclueNUt3Fj_NdZ8BsTWFQAj7_gzXaKGxIbewRVN7RzBZEEQg5qU72c-bU3jDCzUSsS53xzghDgIEHJEVDRusNCCbNaDmkzS57s_3cdgB4/s2048/Screenshot+%252811062%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9G1KhPpTOYP83nj4yOLTbZGiIML0IEWY3unclueNUt3Fj_NdZ8BsTWFQAj7_gzXaKGxIbewRVN7RzBZEEQg5qU72c-bU3jDCzUSsS53xzghDgIEHJEVDRusNCCbNaDmkzS57s_3cdgB4/s16000/Screenshot+%252811062%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
Who would've thought Art Garfunkel would put on a better show than Paul Simon?
Admittedly, the best material of the night tended to be the material he wasn't
a part of which is a bit of a "luck of the draw" situation, but Art was
actually pretty fun when he got to participate in the night's events, too. I
don't wanna throw that adorably awkward guy under the bus too hard.
</p>
<p>
Art commits himself well to the two sketches he holds down for the night,
which surprised me more than it probably should. The <i>Tomorrow</i> sketch
was weighed down severely by the suggestion of a battered husband being
hilarious, but the details make me appreciate it in spite of that painful
center, with Dan's Tom Snyder increasingly spilling an increasingly-anxious
Art's personal deets in spite of his promised anonymity. The Kiss security
sketch is better, though, and a fun ensemble piece with everyone taking their
turn to try and get into the back-door of a Kiss concert and slip past John
and Garrett's uncooperative security guards. Kudos to Art: his soft-spoken
delivery of "I’m in the Air Force and bailed out over the city to get here."
was shockingly perfect. (Also a treat: turning down the night's musical guest
from entry, Stephen Bishop, on account of hating his big song. He'd played it
on the show two sketches before to verify that it's bad.)
</p>
<p>
But the reason the night shined was its back-half, where the episode bore the
privilege of containing two timeless masterpieces that instantly make this
episode a must-watch. My lack of familiarity with Andy Kaufman's work paid off
beautifully in his piece tonight, which has to be my favorite thing that I've
ever seen him perform. He just steps out on-stage as "his real self" (talking
in a British accent) and decides that, in the interest of being himself before
the audience, he'll read <i>The Great Gatsby</i> in its entirety in hopes of
launching a facilitated discussion afterwards on its brilliance. It's a
masterclass in Kaufman's ability to inhibit his bits to perfection, and in
complete defiance to the audience's will and complete understanding; it's the
carrot on a stick that says they're both in on the joke ("haha, he's not gonna
actually read the book, right?") and <i>faaaar </i>outside of it ("holy shit,
he's gonna actually read the book"). He drives the audience to insanity,
playing them like a fiddle while maintaining enough control to fuck with them
at every beautiful turn. I laughed until I cried.
</p>
<p>
Tom Schiller, meanwhile, scores his first SNL masterpiece with "Don't Look
Back in Anger," finding a senile John Belushi mourning over his deceased,
fellow cast members. It's a gut-wrenching piece, least of all because of the
cruel subtext modern time has laid over it, but it's funny in equal parts as
John lists the causes of deaths of his fellow Not Ready For Prime Time Players
with a mix of pain and occasional ambivalence. I'm hard on John, I know; I
feel like he's the most overrated cast member of his pack, someone who's been
marketed as "dangerous" when he in fact relies on a slim but calculated bag of
tricks most of the time. But moments like "Don't Look Back In Anger" are a
reminder of his charisma, his talents, his ability to perform work that was
nuanced and dramatic and vulnerable; the turn from his immense heartbreak and
grief to that sly look into the camera, admitting the secret to his long life
is "being a dancer" and performing a wild jig in the snow, is brilliant. To
echo the words of Nathan Rabin—ironically the John Belushi of SNL reviewers if
there ever was one—"If only it were that simple."
</p>
<p>
This isn't a consistent episode of SNL with much of a sense of flow to it, but
if you've got two all-time classics amidst a sea of pretty enjoyable content,
the math works out in your favor. This one's solid. <i>(Penned 7/05/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2>3/18/78: Jill Clayburgh / Eddie Money (S3 E14)</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrEsWXf0_GGiy2snFNJxCY6Jx0iOae9U2zjRPIZKHXb41_chiTjkP_soxxxPHmyhK-VpTkGZR-u1HWz14_wrVgQybbgWNEo7_qKw0HkvJs437A9kdFHSLJfAUDoIiBKAAe4E6SNcZLC6U/s2048/Screenshot+%252811069%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrEsWXf0_GGiy2snFNJxCY6Jx0iOae9U2zjRPIZKHXb41_chiTjkP_soxxxPHmyhK-VpTkGZR-u1HWz14_wrVgQybbgWNEo7_qKw0HkvJs437A9kdFHSLJfAUDoIiBKAAe4E6SNcZLC6U/s16000/Screenshot+%252811069%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
Jill Clayburgh was a host that I had no particular interest in seeing back on
the show. Admittedly, that's perhaps a bit unfair to her; her first episode
was another rocky-as-expected S1 affair where SNL was still very much trying
to work out what exactly SNL is. She also had her fair share of charming
moments, too, like her little musical number with the Idlers; if anything, the
main point of separation between her and a host like Candice Bergen is
material. That hypothesis rested pretty steady over this episode, her second
and final hosting gig. It's a step up, though it never quite rises to become
anything more than enjoyably pedestrian.
</p>
<p>
A lot of that is that it has cruise control vibes, though for this season,
that isn't an inherently bad thing. Recurring material dominates the episode,
but I think it's a testament to the little universes of each piece that they
still get over. The Olympia Cafe returns, most notably, a reminder of how much
of an instant-classic the first one only a few episodes ago was, and while it
doesn't match the simplistic brilliance of the first, it finds some new
wrinkles that feed into the quiet world-building of it all (Jill's frustrated
tribulations as a waitress-in-training; Gilda's regular customer trying to
tell Bill a joke). The Coneheads were also pretty darn good, even if they're
always pretty darn good and even if this one doesn't escalate too much from
its predecessors. (It's just fun to hear Jane and Dan exchange distressed
"mmmebs" over each others' newfound infidelity.) And lastly, the latest
installment of the "Bad X" and shower talk show sketches linger upon a basic
hypothesis—what if we just added more people?—and it pays off handsomely
enough for what the sketches are.
</p>
<p>
Whatever else remains of the episode is just fine, perhaps even pleasant, but
never mind-blowing: "Sybil III" offers up some laughs with its silly concept,
"Celebrity Crack-Ups" pokes fun at the problematic celebrities of yesteryear,
and John lands a surprisingly quaint piece about a man whose life experience
has been thoroughly shaded and deprived by his poor vision. But yeah, Jill was
fine, and the show was fine. I can't complain, but I won't write home about it
either. <i>(Penned 7/05/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<h2>3/25/78: Christopher Lee / Meat Loaf (S3 E15)</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLkj6tymuOSEU93Vq6vpTTLOc2rGQn9TthNlAs_gbsuNyEihaFiMQePhmGvCNDWEt25HiDScUGR45zlcAugt_LPLeTy6Rbge-dH2iCOLR8o2eVRiU1AgvDfpejMOWb0RmUqMlpwTRSI7A/s2048/Screenshot+%252811074%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLkj6tymuOSEU93Vq6vpTTLOc2rGQn9TthNlAs_gbsuNyEihaFiMQePhmGvCNDWEt25HiDScUGR45zlcAugt_LPLeTy6Rbge-dH2iCOLR8o2eVRiU1AgvDfpejMOWb0RmUqMlpwTRSI7A/s16000/Screenshot+%252811074%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
I dunno what it is about those dandy British actors, but they tend to make
damn good SNL hosts. Unsurprisingly, too, Christopher Lee was a complete
natural throughout his hosting gig. Perhaps the greatest crime was that he
didn't get more to do though his presence lent to the episode's lust for the
macabre; in other words, he's a perfect emcee for the show's dark
proclivities.
</p>
<p>
It feels like a fair amount of the episode is spent with Christopher
introducing us to the most ghoulish of delights rather than being an active
participant: a series of fake horror movie trailers, a bloody Gary Weiss film,
Meat Loaf. Barring some of those immaculate fake trailers, though ("The Thing
That Wouldn't Leave" is classic, and Dan's Vincent Price-as-Mr. Rogers is
rather delightful as well), the episode was at its best when Christopher could
actually play along with the gang, even if he only got three real shots at it.
I was gobsmacked, for instance, that I really enjoyed this episode's Baba
sketch; I've never really been a fan of Gilda's impression nor the rote
cliches that all of her appearances operate under, but the redefined context
granted by her sketch tonight—a <i>My Fair Lady</i> parody where she seeks
speech therapy from Christopher and Dan, complete with a legitimate story
arc—was a ton of fun. See how far you get when you really try, SNL? Another
surprise for me was how much Christopher elevated this episode's Nixon sketch.
Like Baba, I've never really been able to key into Dan's Nixon impression or
the sketches that have housed him, but turning everything into a horror spoof
where he's a vampiric monster whose written work must be slain so that he can
stop haunting the public conscience was beautifully inspired.
</p>
<p>
The best sketch of the night, though, was Christopher and Laraine's "Mr.
Death" piece, which has to be one of my favorite things from the season. It's
a perfect mix of sweet, slice-of-life-esque undertones and deadpan absurdity,
with Christopher's Mr. Death personally apologizing to Laraine for the death
of her dog and waxing about the strange nature of his duties as someone who
attends to the finality of death rather than actually controlling it. The idea
of humanizing Death is far from inciteful, but everything is played so
straight and with a shocking amount of poignancy; it feels less like another
take the idea so much as one of the idea's greatest distillations. As with
almost all good things in these early seasons, though, the sketch is haunted
by complication: Larraine begged to have her part in this sketch over Gilda,
straining her relationship with Gilda and Alan Zweibel (the sketch's
co-writers) and dooming the rest of her tenure. I can try to ignore that,
though... I guess... because this one's a real winner. Happy Halloween,
everybody! Ignore that it was March. <i>(Penned 7/08/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2>4/08/78: Michael Palin / Eugene Record (S3 E16)</h2>
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</div>
<p>
Hmmmmm, I didn't connect with this episode at all. Perhaps that had to do with
high expectations; there's something inherently exciting at a Python hosting
the show, and as Eric Idle has proven in the past, it can make full a
harmonious meeting of the minds. But Michael Palin's episode never really
shifted into as interesting of a place as I would've hoped, even in its
occasionally zanier ambitions (and truthfully, kicking the night off with some
profoundly unhappy cats being shoved down Michael's pants didn't warm me to
the night's overall vibe).
</p>
<p>
There was some Python-esque writing strewn about, but none worked especially
well for me. The best of it was "The Seagull," with Michael attempting to
enter a dramatic scene at the same time that he exited a box he was trapped
in; there's something intrinsically funny about his spastic flailing at odds
with the very serious drama Bill and Jane are performing, but I feel like it
misses the chance to find a solid out by dragging things out with Michael
ranting about how he wishes he were a claims adjustor at the end. (That is,
arguably, a very Python thing to do, though it's seldom a writing trick that
I'm all too smitten with.) The Sherlock Holmes sketch, meanwhile, was simply
one that I couldn't manage to get into, even if I enjoyed some of the
character details and the rather insane visual of Michael's Sherlock
alternating between playing the violin and shooting at a target. (There was
also a very absurd and edgy Franken sketch. "Bigoted rapist?" Try harder,
bud.)
</p>
<div>
If I had to pick a best of the night, surprisingly, I'd go with the
slice-of-life piece between Bill and Laraine. It didn't fit into the night's
sensibilities too snugly, but considering how little I felt like its efforts
were working, it felt like a bit of an oasis, swapping high-wire antics for a
low-key, slice of life piece that always found ample space to tell jokes
without intruding upon its nuance. I also felt like the Nerds sketch offered
up some reliably endearing chuckles, even if the presence of Michael's
pedophilic piano instructor drove a stake into the lighthearted tone that
makes those pieces work for me; at least it allowed for a nice character
moment where Bill stands up to him, cuts out his horseplay, and stomps his
foot for trying at her. Lastly, the confession booth sketch was a bit of a
dull premise salvaged by a fantastic ending, which is so rare to see on SNL
that it's worthy of some appreciation.
</div>
<p>
Basically, whatever drips of goodness this episode had were off-set by
imperfection. Michael did his best, at least. <i>(Penned 7/11/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<h2>4/15/78: Michael Sarrazin / Keith Jarrett, Gravity (S3 E17)</h2>
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</div>
<p>
As with this season's earlier Mary Kay Place episode, I had literally zero
expectations of Michael Sarazzin and was lovingly rewarded by those lowest of
stakes. Unlike Mary Kay, though, this episode didn't prove its worth through
strong synergy with its host necessarily—Michael didn't pull a ton of weight,
though it almost feels like the show doesn't offer him the chance—so much as
the show, for whatever reason, feeling particularly inspired. It was a night
of unexpected, low-key delights, coating everything in an assured, relaxed
vibe, but nonetheless one dripping with writerly detail.
</p>
<p>
Right off the bat, we're confronted with an incredibly long, epic sketch about
a veneral disease case worker that should not work at all, but in spite of
itself... it <i>absolutely</i> does. Michael nimbly carries out his rather
thankless, straight man role, conducting the sketch from scene to scene packed
with a smattering of ingeniously stupid comic beats at every step of the way.
I mean truly, what's not to love about Bill screaming in agony while peeing,
and then exiting the bathroom and announcing, deadpan, "Boy, my penis sure
hurts when I urinate."? There are too many moments for me to jot down without
things just devolving into a list, but dammit, everyone in that scene brings
their A-game and I laugh just thinking about it.
</p>
<p>
The night doesn't lose momentum either, refusing to merely cruise along after
popping such an elaborate gem out up top. Judy Miller returns with a high dose
of charming energy, and I'd honestly consider it better than the
original—perhaps a symptom of "Schweddy Balls"-esque notoriety making its best
successor ("Dusty Muffin") all the more stealthily appealing. Either way, it
trades in the winning simplicity of the first with a healthy dose of
world-building, wise to never overstay its welcome and capturing that same
spark through sheer willpower. This episode also had the first E. Buzz Miller
sketch that really worked for me, fully relishing in its perversion with Dan
instructing Laraine through a series of suggestive exercises. It's actually
quite the heavy night for Laraine, actually: aside from killing it in the E.
Buzz Miller sketch, she gets a cute Update spot and holds down a surprisingly
clever 10-to-1 about future archaeologists wondrously observing the apartment
of an humdrum, old, 20th-century man as if a tomb.
</p>
<p>
She also contributes delightfully to the night's most fondly-remembered
spotlight piece, "La Dolce Gilda." It's a Schiller film that I both didn't
fully know what to do with, having never interacted with any work by Fellini,
and found wildly intoxicating. It doesn't feel like a self-satisfied takedown
of what it makes reference to so much as an earnest love letter, at the wise
expense of any easy laughs so much as a rich, frenetic atmosphere. It's also a
stunning testament to Gilda's charm; as she exits the party scene overwhelmed
and notices the cameraman filming her walk off, she addresses them (and the
audience) with equal parts sultriness and thoughtfulness, granting the treacly
dialogue a profound sense of conviction. All I can really say is it made me
immediately pirate <i>La Dolce Vita</i>, and I look forward to unlocking this
piece's beauty with time. This is how you make a short film for SNL, Gary
Weiss.
</p>
<p>
So yeah, maybe Michael didn't get a lot to do, but when the night's so
involved and simultaneously hitting it out of the park, how can you be angry?
The instrumental jazz performances from Keith Jarrett and Gravity further
sweeten the deal—this is a mighty strong evening. <i>(Penned 7/10/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A.</b></p>
<h2>4/22/78: Steve Martin / The Blues Brothers (S3 E18)</h2>
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<p>
This Steve Martin episode is... excessively hard for me to assess. It is, in
effect, a live recording of a greatest hits collection, smashing through
classic after classic to a degree that almost feels artificial. And I think
that's sort of an unfortunate byproduct of the mythical status that this
episode has, however deservingly: it fulfills its promises but, in the extent
that it's penetrated the cultural zeitgeist, rarely surprises.
</p>
<p>
That's unfair to the show in some ways, but fair in others. Most obviously for
me, the Festrunk Brothers piece—a recurring sketch I usually love—felt
completely on autopilot in this third installment. They chant their
catchphrases to raucous applause, dance-walk all silly, and land some hot,
American foxes. They're fun characters for sure, and I got my laughs out of
it, but I fear their characters have plateaued when these early years have
otherwise done a remarkable job of keeping its recurring sketches in a
constant cycle of reinvention. Steve Martin's monologue, too, felt sort of
warmed-over, at least up until the point that he started violently
pickpocketing items off of Bill.
</p>
<p>
Its original sketches could be mixed for me, too, and I fear my jadedness
comes from the expectations I hold for a sketch which is considered a
"classic." This affected Theodoric the most; I love the idea of writing a
sketch around an era in medicine somewhere between complete witchcraft and an
understanding of modern science, and the sketch hits that idea right on the
money with the line, "Just 50 years ago, we would've thought your daughter's
illness was brought on by demonic possession or witchcraft. But nowadays, we
know that Isabelle is suffering from an imbalance of bodily humors, perhaps
caused by a toad or small dwarf living in her stomach." But the sketch never
quite punctuates its great premise with writing to match it, playing out
competently but without exciting escalation. (We do get another version of
Steve's "Nah!" speech from his nasty defense lawyer sketch, though, which
works well enough here.) Some of the night's later contributions were more
slight, though they at least maintained energy as well as a sketch about a
trough restaurant can.
</p>
<p>
But alas, I should talk about what works, too. "Dancing in the Dark" is
deservingly a classic, a silly but sweet moment shared between two comedic
icons going for broke effortlessly as Steve and Gilda danced violently around
the studio. (I'm not crying, you're crying!) "King Tut" is also a nice burst
of fun; Steve's campiness is often hard for me to come to terms with, but it's
the song's greatest asset here, allowing him to go winningly ham while winking
at the Egyptomania and its commodification that had enraptured the cultural
psyche. Perhaps the night's two most forgotten pieces are pretty darn
delightful, too: Gary Weiss contributes a banger of a final short film,
inviting the Lockers to pop and lock to Swan Lake with some ballerinas, and
Jane and John hold down a great piece alternating between slice-of-life and
bonkers hilarity, playing a middle-aged couple trying to turn each other on
with tales of extramarital ribaldry.
</p>
<p>
So how can I rank this episode? I'm not sure, and truthfully, it's sad that
such a popular episode couldn't do more for me given that I fully understand
how it amassed such a sterling reputation. It's certainly a quality,
all-hands-on-deck night for SNL, though, and jaded as I am, there's a lot to
appreciate there. This one deserves the love, even if I can't give it all that
much myself. <i>(Penned 7/15/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2>5/13/78: Richard Dreyfuss / Jimmy Buffett, Gary Tigerman (S3 E19)</h2>
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<p>
From the second that Richard Dreyfuss walked out onto center stage to deliver
his monologue dressed as a Shakespearean actor, it was clear that we were in
good hands for the night. Indeed, this wasn't an amazing episode of SNL
material-wise, but it's a wonderful example of how much a night can be
elevated by a host who both plays by the rules of the show and fights to sell
everything that he's a part of, no matter what that entails or how much of the
spotlight is on him. He's a real team player.
</p>
<p>
Everything was pretty uniformly great, which also helps. On the original
sketch front, Richard carries a particularly strange but enjoyable sketch
spouting sex-based questions with increasingly-absurd answers and snippets
from field professionals. (Did you know that George Washington Carver first
discovered genitalia?) He's not made to do anything besides read things out in
a straitlaced manner, but his buttoned-up delivery grants proceedings a nice
gravitas and keeps it lively despite the sketch's rigid format. Richard gets
to cut loose far more in the slice-of-life piece alongside Laraine, which
might just be the night's best; the are perfectly in-sync as they shout
vicious, personal grievances at one another, and while the dialogue might be
overwrought with cleverness instead of realism, it packs a nice punch.
</p>
<p>
On the recurring front, the Coneheads returned, to pretty good effect as
usual; a spoof on Close Encounters on the Third Kind is naturally too obvious
to pass up. I love the continuity here of Beldar being a driving instructor,
with his local commercial spot leading Richard's alien obsessive right to his
doorstep. Elsewhere, it's the same old beats for the most part, but Richard's
character being less guileless than the sketch' usual human foil (at least up
until he gets tricked onto a journey to Remulac) grants things a fresh
feeling. Nick the Lounge Singer is less fresh, perhaps, but it's also very
evergreen; the only addition to the formula here might be a drum machine, but
Bill's joyous crooning and interplay with Paul Schaffer and his audience are,
as always, a damn good time.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the night's pretty fun too! While dressing Gilda up as Leon
Spinks' mom is a misstep, "The David Susskind Show" also features Jane doing a
spotless vocal impression of Dan's Tom Snyder, playing his mom in what has to
be one of my favorite Jane roles ever. This episode also marks the debut of
Don Novello's "Father Guido Sarducci" character; I had no idea how to feel
about him based on everything I've heard, but I was pleasantly surprised by
how much I enjoyed Novello's characterization and nonchalant laughlines.
</p>
<p>
Richard Dreyfuss' episode won't knock your socks off, but it's a great
demonstration of what wonders can come out of a truly committed host. It's a
shame he hasn't come back since. <i>(Penned 7/18/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2>5/20/78: Buck Henry / Sun Ra (S3 E20)</h2>
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</div>
<p>
Oh Buck Henry, why are you such a tricky host? He's in a strange camp; I love
the guy and think he's an infallible fit for the show, but damn if his
episodes aren't fallible. I suppose that's the paradox of being a game,
weathered veteran of the program: with his abilities and willingness clear,
SNL buckles at the prospects of taking chances and simply rolls out an assured
final product. In a way, it reminds me of some of this season's other
episodes, actually. I feel like it was shooting to be akin to Steve Martin's
last hosting stint, a ceremonious combination of Buck's most reliable bits and
crowd-pleasers, but it ended up being more like Jill Claysburgh's episode.
Buck simply doesn't have a radiant presence that can be counted on to brave
the seas of wackier, less low-key material, and while he's competent and
charming as ever here, he can't get the show over if the show's not trying to
get that far over itself.
</p>
<p>
Basically, Buck reigned over a lot of recurring material, some of which worked
and some of which didn't, but none feeling strongly invigorating. His best
work was in the night's Nerds sketch, casting him as Bill's father; it's a
role he was cut out to play, nailing that insane inhaled laugh and feeding in
naturally to the goofy, endearing atmosphere that makes those pieces work for
me. He also plugged in fairly well to tonight's "Olympia Cafe" installment,
though all it really takes to plug in is the ability to play a believable
everyman which, indeed, is Buck's strongsuit in the first place. (Not to be
outdone, Bill's a lot of fun in this installment too, verblessly being fired
and dragged back in by John as he deliberates the cost of an attack dog.)
Lastly, although they're more low-key wins, I'm always a fan of those
scrolling text monologues, and Buck's ability to get complex lines without
faltering assisted greatly in the "Insects" piece, selling some devilishly
graphic details with complete professionalism.
</p>
<p>
The rest of the night struggled. The "stunt baby" sketch didn't need to be
redone with a "stunt dog," and the choice of a very unconvincing stuffed dog
drained any potential for viscerality. The Samurai rehash was even more
sluggish, seemingly existing out of obligation without knowing how to up the
stakes; even John looks thoroughly checked out. Everything else is a
wasteland: the sodomy sketch didn't know what to do with its thin premise, the
"Bad Conceptual Art" piece took a jab at something which is truly impossible
to satirize, and the Franken and Davis piece was atrocious even by Franken and
Davis' standards. The less said about that or Mr. Mike's perv ballad, the
better.
</p>
<p>
I'd like to say Sun Ra was a palette cleanser, but as much as I respect the
dude for bringing such a unique flavor to the show, it wasn't really the
refreshing breath mint I needed to exit from this season finale on the best
note. This was an ignoble end to an otherwise pretty enjoyable season, but
alas, that's what season finales are almost always fated to be. Onwards to
Season 4! <i>(Penned 7/14/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<h2>Cumulative Season Episode Rankings:</h2>
<div>
<b>1. </b>Charles Grodin (A+)<br /><b>2. </b>Michael Sarazzin (A)<br /><b>3. </b>Robert Klein (A)<br /><b>4. </b>Steve Martin #4 (A-)<br /><b>5. </b>Art
Garfunkel (B+)<br /><b>6. </b>Christopher Lee (B+)<br /><b>7. </b>Steve Martin
#5 (B+)*<br /><b>8 </b>Ray Charles (B+)<br /><b>9. </b>Mary Kay Place
(B+)<br /><b>10. </b>Steve Martin #3 (B+)<br /><b>11. </b>Richard Dreyfuss
(B+)<br /><b>12. </b>Jill Clayburgh (B)<br /><b>13. </b>Madeline Kahn (B)<br /><b>14. </b>Buck Henry #5 (B)<br /><b>15. </b>Chevy Chase (B-)<br /><b>16. </b>Michael
Palin (B-)<br /><b>17. </b>Hugh Hefner (B-)<br /><b>18. </b>Miskel Spillman
(C+)<br /><b>19. </b>Buck Henry #6 (C+)
</div>
<div><b>20. </b>O. J. Simpson (C)</div>
<p>
*I know that Steve's fifth hosting gig is objectively better than his fourth
material-wise, but I try to grade with special attention to my appreciation
for an episode in the moment, and especially the extent to which an episode
will surprise me. Organizing these sorts of rankings are often very hard to
quantify but I just try to follow my personal instincts.
</p>
<p><b>FAVORITE SKETCHES:</b></p>
<p>
<b>10.</b> "After Love" (S3E11 / Chevy Chase)<br /><b>9.</b> "Nick
Winters" (S3E10 / Robert Klein)<br /><b>8.</b> "Mr. Death" (S3E15 /
Christopher Lee)<br /><b>7.</b> "Endings" (S3E11 / Chevy Chase)<br /><b>6/</b><b>5. </b>"Don't Look Back In Anger" (S3E13 / Art Garfunkel) / "La Dolce
Gilda" (S3E17 / Michael Sarazzin)<br /><b>4.</b> "The Soiled Kimono"
(S3E08 / Miskel Spillman)<br /><b>3.</b> "Andy Kaufman's Great Gatsby"
(S3E13 / Art Garfunkel)<br /><b>2.</b> "Josh Ramsey, V.D. Case Worker"
(S3E17 / Michael Sarazzin)<br /><b>1.</b> "Simon & Garfunkel" (S3E04
/ Charles Grodin)
</p>
<p>
<b>Other great sketches:</b> "Royal Deluxe II," "The Festrunk Brothers,"
"Keypunch Confession" (S3E01 / Steve Martin #3); "Swill," "The Pink Box," and
"Pocket Protector" (S3E02 / Madeline Kahn); "Funeral Magician (S3E03 / Hugh
Hefner); "The Judy Miller Show" (S3E04 / Charles Grodin); "Stunt Baby" (S3E06
/ Buck Henry); "Married in a Minute!" and Andy Kaufman's foreign stand-up
(S3E07 / Mary Kay Place); "Family Feud (S3E09 / Steve Martin #4); "The Olympia
Cafe" (S3E10 / Robert Klein); "The Thing That Wouldn't Leave" (S3E15 /
Christopher Lee); "Archaeologicus" (S3E17 / Michael Sarazzin); "Dancing in the
Dark" (S3E18 / Steve Martin).<br />
</p>
<p><b>FAVORITE MUSICAL PERFORMANCES:</b></p>
<p>
<b>7.</b> Gravity (S3E17 / Michael Sarazzin)<br /><b>6.</b> Keith
Jarrett (S3E17 / Michael Sarazzin)<br /><b>5.</b> Taj Mahal (S3E02 /
Madeline Kahn)<br /><b>4.</b> Bonnie Raitt (S3E10 / Bonnie Raitt)<br /><b>3. </b>Ray Charles (S3E05 / Ray Charles)<br /><b>2.</b> Elvis Costello (S3E08 /
Miskel Spillman)<br /><b>1. </b>The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band & Steve Martin
perform "White Russia" (S3E09 / Steve Martin)
</p>
<p><b>SEASON GRADE AVERAGE: B.</b></p>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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</p>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-40676977312088414572021-07-21T18:32:00.001-05:002021-07-21T18:43:03.962-05:00Summer Camp Island Review: Breakfast Like Gene Kelly / Spirit Balls<p></p>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>"What's the difference between the dream you and the awake you?" "About
twenty pounds of lean muscle, hair for days, softer hair.</i></b></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>"</i></b></span>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;">
<br />
</div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">--</span>
</div>
<p></p>
<p>It's been long enough since my last review so let's just dive into this!</p>
<p>
<b>"Breakfast Like Gene Kelly"</b> is the sort of quintessentially warm
<i>SCI</i>
episode I was hoping to kick off this season. While I (of course) appreciate the
show's constant broadening of scope, allowing for more characters to step into the
spotlight than ever before, there's nothing more comforting than a classic
Osc-Hog pairing. After all, those two were created for each other; their
dynamic is untouchable, balancing Oscar's charming naivete off with Hedgehog's
bookish smarts, and it's always a delight to see.
</p>
<p></p>
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While this isn't the most perfectly balanced episode for the two, with Oscar
taking a more prominent lead, Hedgehog's input is the crucial ingredient that
helps send things home. If anything, the episode is a reflection of how
nurturing Hedgehog is at every step of the way. Oscar dreams of a perfectly
choreographed breakfast ritual, pirouetting around a kitchen and throwing his
ingredients in the air with graceful precision, in spite of the fact that it
comes in complete contrast to his relatively graceless existence. Hedgehog never
treats those dreams as some unattainable fantasy, though, even if all evidence
would point towards Oscar's ability to pull it off as suspect; instead, she's
determined to help him understand the circumstances that could enable it to
happen.
<p></p>
<span><a name='more'></a></span><p>The episode is at its best when it's focused on that mission, though I suppose
it's fair that there's a bit of a journey to get to that point. Oscar needs
access to the monster's kitchen, the location of his dream, but they're
immediately faced by resistance from Melvin, the monsters' resident
hypochondriac. Because of that, the middle section of the episode is a bit
aimless, however charming; we're not really progressing the narrative so much as bringing things to a complete stand-still in an attempt to elaborate on Melvin’s personality, but there's not a sense of the character being
particularly enrichened by the extended screen time. It's just a bit
hard to think of the monsters as anything beyond a monolith; they're fun
characters who work best playing off of each other or plugged into ancillary
roles, but "Breakfast Like Gene Kelly" doesn't suggest that they're the best
at commanding focus. Likewise, while it's interesting to see an entire
sequence in the episode dedicated to the monsters getting injured by a series
of unlucky blunders and blaming Hedgehog for telling them prophetically to
"break a leg," it feels a bit like the episode buying time even though there's
no shortage of intrigue to its central idea. </p>
<p></p>
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</div>
Fortunately, the episode's climax allows for its idea to be actualized to
intriguing effect. After Oscar fails to perform his breakfast ritual with poise
even in the right kitchen, Hedgehog casts him under a sleep spell to scope out
his dream and figure out what boxes are yet to be ticked. It's a nice sequence
that keys into <i>SCI's</i> brand of low-key surrealism and eye for cute
flourishes—of course Oscar would have Hedgehog cheering him on inside of a
cupboard in his dream!—and while I would've liked to see more of the detail to
this dreamland, it's a delightfully inventive way to bring Hedgehog's magical
prowess into the plot, with Oscar wandering about his imagined kitchen as if
lucid and finding out that what he really needs is a crowd of people to serve.
And luckily, the monsters have just come home from a day of broken legs!
<p></p>
<p>
There's also a surprisingly nice out for the episode beyond just Oscar's
success at making his dreams a reality. I like how Melvin, after all of his
distress that his spotless kitchen will be ruined, embraces the chance to
clean things up at the end; it's nice that he's able to take the same
circular, self-fulfilling journey that Oscar's attained, joyfully cleaning up
his kitchen with an identical, sensory fervor. ("The splashing of wet mop! The
swooshing of the sponge-skate!") Everyone has their own, little rituals—a
sweet little message to cap off a sweet little episode.
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
Whereas "Breakfast Like Gene Kelly" is another notch on the belt of the show's
surefire formula, <b>"Spirit Balls" </b>is an attempt at something much more
ambitious. <i>SCI</i> had a whole arc framed around the history of the island
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2020/12/summer-camp-island-review-susies-ark.html">last </a><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2020/12/summer-camp-island-review-meet-me-in.html">year</a>, but it's interesting to see this season swapping out an episode slot for a
nonchalant flashback episode, operating within a different timeframe with a
largely different cast of characters but the same episodic feel. It's not
perfect, but curiously, the bulk of its issues aren't a matter of
that risk so much as how the episode decides to carry itself out.
<p></p>
<p>
The greatest success here is that even though Susie and Ramona are the only
characters bridging this point in time with the present,
<i>SCI's</i> molecular structure and sense of self are so strong that the show
doesn't lose an ounce of its charm despite the change in direction. The world
feels just as vibrant, if a bit more antiquated, and the fact that a nice
chunk of "Spirit Balls" is spent exploring the various nooks and crannies of
the island preserves a nice sense of adventure throughout. There's also an
interesting conceit to the episode, presenting the show with another chance to
elaborate upon its conception of magic with the concept of the eponymous
spirit balls, coaxes designed to trap spirits with impossible, menial labor so
that they don't overtake witch's bodies.
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
With that being said, the issue with "Spirit Balls" is simply that it's built
around two characters who deliberately lack synergy, and who never develop as a
pair. I'm not opposed to the idea of framing an episode around two characters
that are practically new to the show, but there should be some justification
within the narrative for why they were chosen, even if that just means being
compelling to watch. Individually, both Mallory and Emma might be: Mallory is a
skeptic who prides herself on being individual and adhering to her assignment at
hand, while Emma is utterly detached from the situation, prioritizing her own
set of alternate goals without giving Mallory any indication that she's invested
in her character. They just don't make a good pairing, and the episode doesn't
try to sell us on them either, with "Spirit Balls" settling for a cycle of
Mallory exhaustively narrating the day to herself with general disbelief in her
partner (even if Emma does nothing to dissuade it).
<p></p>
"Spirit Balls" ramps up in intensity when Emma and Mallory return to class
without a proper spirit ball, but while it brings the episode to a proper
crescendo, it feels more like it's fishing things out of a feedback loop rather
than driving them towards a satisfying end. If anything, the fact that Mallory,
in lieu of a proper spirit ball, is possessed by the ghost of a soggy old log
just pushes both her and Emma into an even more uncooperative stasis, passing on
duties to Susie and Ramona to channel some reliable energy in. It's true that
Emma does ultimately save the day, forcing the ghost out by triggering Mallory
to sneeze him out of her system, but it's an action that's still carried out
with more detachment than a suggestion that the characters have grown. Her swift
departure from the schoolhouse right after, too, deprives the episode of any
particularly warm feelings, even if there's a clever twist at the very end.<br />
<p></p>
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</div>
It all just feels strangely cynical for a show which tends to be very wholesome
and positively-minded. That's not to say that I don't think
<i>SCI</i> should be able to experiment with striking different tones, but it
has to fight against a certain set of expectations that the show's imposed upon
itself that leaves the end result feeling kinda unfulfilling. Even so, it's hard
to be too angry at an episode which takes a chance, and there's plenty to enjoy
about what "Spirit Balls" is able to accomplish. Consider it a step towards
greater things.
<p></p>
<p>
While Season 4 seems to off to a fairly slow start, I don't think that's emblematic that we're in for a
problematic season. I think it's reflexive of a certain degree of promise;
<i>Summer Camp Island</i> is keen on tackling new ideas with a lot of
enthusiasm, and whether or not they're all home runs, that's deeply
appreciable for a show entering its fourth season. Here's hoping that the best
is yet to come.
</p>
<p>
<b>FINAL GRADES:<br />"Breakfast Like Gene Kelly": B+.<br />"Spirit Balls":
B.</b>
</p>
<p>
<i>Next review: Oscar retrieves berries and learns some ghost manners.</i>
</p>
<p>
<i>For my last reviews of "Sea Bunnies" and "Mushrumours,"
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/summer-camp-island-review-sea-bunnies.html">CLICK HERE</a>.</i>
</p>
<p style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">
<i>If you like my stuff, be sure to follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>.</i>
</p>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">
<i>If you think my articles are good, that's probably because of my editor,
Glass! Follow them on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Glass_Shardon" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Glass_Shardon</a>.<br /></i>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">
<i><br /></i>
</div>
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</div>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-20960215576095088722021-07-18T17:10:00.006-05:002023-10-15T01:11:21.784-05:00Saturday Night Live, Ranked and Reviewed: Season 2<p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTsLTVP_1s0q1nFY5RVTr7TgxjKsSn4A7q-2APFfKvfeLThLd3l7395tsVPnR0-aEm5l0DzgMw7iNzRsQybe2hyphenhyphen8BbHlLVzRL9KPYnS_AnaNUkYQ0mJxTNA_WN-6X8tzrKhp2BMj_1Fg/s2048/Screenshot+%252810566%2529.png" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTsLTVP_1s0q1nFY5RVTr7TgxjKsSn4A7q-2APFfKvfeLThLd3l7395tsVPnR0-aEm5l0DzgMw7iNzRsQybe2hyphenhyphen8BbHlLVzRL9KPYnS_AnaNUkYQ0mJxTNA_WN-6X8tzrKhp2BMj_1Fg/s16000/Screenshot+%252810566%2529.png" width="518" /></a></span><br /></div>
</div>
<p></p>
<div>
<div style="background-color: white; clear: both; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left;"></span></div><div style="background-color: white; clear: both; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>"We're just packaging what the kids want, ya know?"</b></i></span></span>
</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arimo;">
<br />--
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<p style="font-family: Arimo;">I greatly enjoyed watching the first season of the show, especially with how experimental and loose it tended to feel, but I also felt like the show was still frequently unsure of itself and what sort of show it wanted to be. I was greatly looking for to the second season, then, to see how the show would continue to develop and solidify. Did it live up to those expectations? See for yourself!</p>
<p style="font-family: Arimo;">
In case you missed it: for my reviews of Season 1,
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">CLICK HERE</a>! Now... onwards!<br />
</p>
<span><a name='more'></a></span>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo; text-align: left;">
9/18/76: Lily Tomlin / James Taylor (S2 E01)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Season 2! Lily Tomlin! I actually thought that was quite a solid
episode, all things considered. While the show is clearly still
trying to figure out its overall rundown/sequencing stuff, I think that it steps a very confident foot forward in
a way that a season premiere should, and often doesn't. Lily Tomlin
makes sense as a host to put up to the task as well: she doesn't
need SNL to keep her afloat, and her presence is strong enough to
will the night into being compelling, if nothing else. </span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">I do think that she is, by that same logic, a host that the show
doesn't always know what to do with most of the time, though. Her
characters are specific in their personalities but broad in their
performance style, whereas SNL's writing at this time tends to be
more seedy and conceptual. But rather than those two different
styles merging into something truly stunning, there's a tug and pull
where they rarely feel synchronized. For instance, while the debate
sketch was impeccably crafted—a piece worth all of its hype, and one
that demonstrates the unsuspecting sharpness of the show's political
satire when it extends beyond Ford falling down—Lily was relegated
to a straight role that did her no favors. On the opposite hand, her
character piece buried deep in the night with Garrett, putting her
distinct voice as a comedian at the wheel, felt like a concept SNL
had no idea how to work with or fit into its mold.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">With that being said, there are two main exceptions. Lily's "Phone
Company" ad in the middle of Update was a showcase which was
indisputably hers, but which she carried out excellently, a
reflection of the skills of her comedic voice when granted the
autonomy that it needs. Her Judith Beasley piece with Dan was even
better, though, ramping up its basic premise to the point of
irrelevant and pseudo-dark absurdity, anchored by two performers
doing what they do best harmoniously. The antler dance ending the
episode, too, felt like a moment where she and the show were at the
same terms with each other, blossoming into such a joyous closer to
a strong episode, in spite of its difficulties. (Oh, and in spite of
their earlier sketch ending too abruptly to register, it was a nice
high note for the Muppets to go out on, dancing along with antlers
on their heads.) Strong as it may be on a sketch-by-sketch basis,
though, I just wish a Lily Tomlin-hosted episode could feel more
wholly mutualistic. <i>(Penned 6/12/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: B+.</b></span>
</p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
9/25/76: Norman Lear / Boz Scaggs (S2 E02)
</h2>
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</div>
<br />
<div>
I wasn't quite sure where to set my expectations with this episode,
but wherever they were set (maybe around Ron Nessen??), this
episode far surpassed them. Sure, Lear isn't the sort of commanding
presence that someone like Lily Tomlin is, but that somehow enabled
him to plug into the show more and become a cog in the SNL machine
rather than an entirely separate energy source. He felt a lot closer
to someone like Buck Henry, someone who clearly relinquishes himself
diligently to the process and rolls with the punches far more than I
would've suspected. (That pratfall!) While he was basically Norman
Lear across the entire episode, his presence is amicable enough that
the show put him to fine use. The monologue was probably one of the
big highlights of the night for me; it risks becoming repetitive and
feeling narcissistic, but something about it just connects and works
with every reiteration of the main gag, and he hits just the right
tone to sell the material. (That deadpan lack of reaction to having a
trash bin full of water poured on him was, quite frankly, immaculate.)
</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Stepping beyond Lear, a lot of the night's material felt connected
to Chevy's absence. It makes sense, I suppose; the biggest star is
out, and suddenly the show feels like it has a weaker nucleus, but
SNL massively underestimates its confidence without him. Jane Curtin
acquits herself perfectly to Weekend Update, with this installment
being perhaps the best display of her deadpan yet (the Alka Seltzer
joke was perfect), and the ladies' song to their ailing cast member
hits just the write amount of sincerity and absurdity to land as
precisely as it needs to. The cast holds up the rest of the
episode's material playing to their strengths without leaving
anything to be missed, especially Dan, who trots out a worthy sequel to last season's killer "Decabet" piece. The only segments that didn't
really work for me were the snake-charmer sitcom and John's
obligatory "time to beat up Gilda" sketch, so this was all-around a
very respectable entry into SNL's canon.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: A-.</b></span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">As a sidenote, I also very much enjoyed Gary Weiss' weird "Yankee
Doodle" slapstick film this week. Usually I sort of nix his work
from consideration for grading purposes, but it really struck a
chord with me and felt strangely prescient of contemporary,
surreal/memetic humor. (There's some real "Dear Sister" vibes to it,
I swear.) Pretty electrifying stuff from ol' Gary!
<i>(Penned 6/13/21)</i></span>
</p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
10/02/76: Eric Idle / Joe Cocker & Stuff (S2 E03)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Alright, so the Eric Idle episode. After going through a lot of ups
and downs with it, I've settled on a pretty strong appreciation for
it! I went into it with high expectations, which are quite frankly a
lethal sentiment to have for an SNL episode, and I think that
blinded me away from the strengths that the episode has, especially
indebted to the chances that it takes with its material. While I
don't think everything in the episode is a winner, there's a fun,
absurdist energy that runs through the entire episode and keeps it
largely afloat.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">That's what we should expect from a Python hosting, naturally, and
Eric Idle is as fantastic as you'd expect. He's got a good synergy
with the show, with Idle causing SNL to take a more Python-esque
slant while simultaneously playing gamely into SNL's creative DNA.
That blossoms most notably in how much this episode actualizes Dan,
the most eccentric member of this cast; while the "AM/FM" piece
sadly doesn't do a ton for me outside of how impressive Dan's
performance is, he makes a fantastic scene partner to Eric, whether
as the straight man in the short but sweet "Genetic Counselor"
sketch or taking the lead in the Nazi bar sketch, an underrated
little piece that merely hurts itself from a poor ending. While
"Rutles" is probably the sketch of the night, I'm reluctant to
qualify it as such considering it was pulled, in its entirety, from
another television show; instead, I'll give that honor to "Dragnet,"
which outside of our obligatory racial oopsie-doo of the night
(Garrett), was one of those sketches so peppered with absurd,
brilliant, and underplayed detail that I couldn't help but love it,
all while being bolstered by a fantastic sense of progression. (That
drag race visual was <i>bonkers</i>.)</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">While the episode lost me in its final leg with a series of
sketches that hurt the episode's momentum (the theme of stitching
sketches together sort of falls apart, and the runner gets buried
until resurfacing for the goodnights), this one's a really good
time. Definitely one of the best of this era so far!
<i>(Penned 6/14/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: A.</b></span>
</p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
10/16/76: Karen Black / John Prine (S2 E04)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOCp-N09j5YPLi7menF1uZlhdJpcAnqEm_1FZI-ho5zMKRA23ZSDYL8L3wQ1T4yDFvhwixSA9A_M-wCIOLenU8k3XvK1V9hU97o_xjCLfuRUaJynb6uECvXN-PxRPZ5TrEXEhhqN15uNc/s2048/Screenshot+%252810571%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOCp-N09j5YPLi7menF1uZlhdJpcAnqEm_1FZI-ho5zMKRA23ZSDYL8L3wQ1T4yDFvhwixSA9A_M-wCIOLenU8k3XvK1V9hU97o_xjCLfuRUaJynb6uECvXN-PxRPZ5TrEXEhhqN15uNc/s16000/Screenshot+%252810571%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">While I didn't particularly enjoy the Karen Black episode, I think
that it represents one of my favorite, more elusive types of SNL
episodes: it's an installment of the show that teeters not because
of any laziness or sterility, but because things just don't click
for whatever reason in spite of the episode's sincere intentions. A
certain breed of absurdity permeates across the material here,
creating a night that theoretically makes the most of SNL's
potential for weirdness, but very little actually connects, turning
that weirdness more into confusion and a sense of remove.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Karen Black tries to do her part in the episode at least, and I
enjoyed her monologue for the material (detailing of the history of
mothers a la the Industrial Revolution) as much as I enjoyed her
infant son committing... curious faux pas on live television. But
while she proved capable there, the rest of the night relegated her
to straight and supporting roles through weary sketch after sketch.
She notably seemed rather out-of-depth as the moderator of tonight's
debate sketch, whiffing some cues and struggling to fight against
the already dead energy that sadly underscores some of its material.
(A fair bit works and gets it over—Carter's lustful comments towards
Jane, the National Anthem bit—but it can't stand up to its
predecessor.) As she slaves through the episode's two strangest
pieces, too, the mouse cupcake and Catherine the Great sketches, it
becomes hard to tell where the blame for the night's failures fall;
is Karen just unable to will the material into working, or is the
material too half-baked for anyone to work with? The addition of a
middling slice-of-life piece between Dan and Jane, though—something
I wanted to like, but which refuted my ability to resonate with the
characters—suggests the latter.</span>
</p>
<p><span style="font-family: Arimo;"></span></p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">With that being said, I thought that the A*M*I*S*H sketch was decidedly
strong, one of those jokes so simple and stupid but succinctly
executed that you're jealous of the person who came up of it.
Outside of that, all I could really do here is furrow my brows and
frown at the fact that Chevy's back. <i>(Penned 6/15/21)</i></span>
</p>
<div><b>GRADE: C-.</b></div>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
10/23/76: Steve Martin / Kinky Friedman (S2 E05)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGognYzbvF9Ii4loP3IXdxDvK7MXEO8GlyPjrc38byLPZVDFzxCUsgQCF4rjlu1N-9Cvi1lja4_XDMqXuBEB2c9LuzbelJPYQw_M2zgRJeW8cyxkzHw4kqPMqximGx9mn0IUOHEyJeO2s/s2048/Screenshot+%252810570%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGognYzbvF9Ii4loP3IXdxDvK7MXEO8GlyPjrc38byLPZVDFzxCUsgQCF4rjlu1N-9Cvi1lja4_XDMqXuBEB2c9LuzbelJPYQw_M2zgRJeW8cyxkzHw4kqPMqximGx9mn0IUOHEyJeO2s/s16000/Screenshot+%252810570%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">I find this to be a bit of a surprising debut episode for someone
who would go on to become a legendary host. It certainly wasn't bad,
but I think it's hard to go back to a time where Steve was a
fresh-faced comedian on the show with no expectations beyond a night
brimming with his shtick. In that regard, the episode was very
successful, but it didn't speak to the sort of versatility I would
expect from him. The night was very high-functioning, centered
around Steve's off-kilter, maniac energy, and maintaining him as
someone that you could never take your eyes off of. It never
registered as obnoxious, at least, and I enjoyed both his work in
the very quintessential-feeling "dog alarm" piece and as Ted Baxter
(which I feel works rather well despite not fully understanding the
references), but it does start to glaze over you at a certain
point.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">In spite of that, this actually wasn't a bad episode for ensemble
pieces, as show-stealing as Steve could get. The "Jeopardy 1999" bit
allowed for some fun, nuanced performances from Dan and Laraine (and
I suppose Chevy as well), and in spite of its length, the Beatniks
sketch was a fantastic showcase for the cast, giving everyone a
spotlight to just do their thing and demonstrate their unique value
prospect within the show. (Chevy fiddles around and plays to the
audience, Garrett sings maniacally, John preys on the audience he's
about to have a breakdown, etc.) You can tell that everyone in the
cast enjoys working with Steve, and Steve enjoys working with
everyone else as well, which is the most valuable aspect of this
episode—it's like a proof of concept, testing the waters for better
things to come. With that being said, this inaugural hosting gig
scored a bit under my expectations. <i>(Penned 6/15/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
10/30/76: Buck Henry / The Band (S2 E06)
</h2>
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<p><span style="font-family: Arimo;">I've found myself to have a lot of love for Buck as a host; his affability is charming, and while his range isn't great, he's as dedicated to serve the show as the show to play to his strengths. With that being said: man, this episode struggled to find the right groove. It's a symptom of SNL being as dated a show as it is in the 1970s that something flags for me almost every episode, but this episode really takes the cake up top, going from Buck's tasteless monologue (Chevy is gay, Laraine and Jane are abused spouses, the whole nine yards) into the obligatory Futaba piece, into a piece that forces Garrett to dress up as tribal men and women and talk about his ancestors being raped. For the most part, none of the unproblematic material makes up for that difference, either; Wawa was Wawa, I'm fatigued by the debate sketches by this point, and while there were some interesting Halloween vibes towards the end of the episode (between the Gary Weiss film and Garrett remotes), the night feels like it starts and ends with a whimper, albeit for a few oases of premium content.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Arimo;">While "Bat-o-Matic" is surprisingly robust for a sequel to such an iconic sketch, the one piece I'd consider a bona-fide success of the evening is "The Ointment," a sprawling, horror movie spoof packed to the brim with bursts of deadpan insanity. It doesn't just deconstruct every dark moment; it lampoons them with such earnest stupidity to the heightened degree that when Jane sees Dan's priest walk in with a streetlight impaled through his chest, she simply tells Buck, "Find out where he got that terrific lamp." It can be hard to write something that irreverent without it becoming smarmy, but Buck is the perfect host to pull it off, and even Chevy lands some brilliant laughs—not the worst way to go out!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Arimo;">Ultimately, though, the episode is most fondly remembered for featuring the Futaba sketch where Buck's head gets sliced open. It's a blunder that forces him to wear a bandage on his forehead for the rest of the night, a funny sight that slowly culminates in the rest of the cast joining him in bandage-wearing solidarity. While that doesn't really impact the quality of the rest of the night's material, it's a fun reflection of how surreal the show could be in its infancy, and how much camaraderie came with that, especially with a host whose as good of a sport as Buck. The dude gets sliced in the head, finishes the night, and comes back seven more times while doing more Samurai sketches <i>with the same sword</i>! That establishes Buck as an all-timer, even if the material of this episode itself doesn't. <i>(Penned 7/15/21)</i></span></p><p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
11/13/76: Dick Cavett / Ry Cooder (S2 E07)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RUxKqXGbVK-wkI2QURc1Nc8V2WxYW6s8RO8MTzyeBHSW1-k7BNTRzL_HQ01EByahgW8eSTiNTYX6C57ksu9wuEpiQo5IqbP8bQyRKAag7XZI5QnH9N1ZfdaaIqJrguHa15cMwZ0e44s/s2048/Screenshot+%252810346%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RUxKqXGbVK-wkI2QURc1Nc8V2WxYW6s8RO8MTzyeBHSW1-k7BNTRzL_HQ01EByahgW8eSTiNTYX6C57ksu9wuEpiQo5IqbP8bQyRKAag7XZI5QnH9N1ZfdaaIqJrguHa15cMwZ0e44s/s16000/Screenshot+%252810346%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">As someone who was very unenthralled by Dick Cavett's first hosting
gig, I was curious how this second one would go. He's sort of a
mythical comedian talk show host guy, right? And maybe he just
didn't shine through that first episode a ton as someone who was
working with a show that didn't quite have itself all the way
figured out. Well, this episode basically comes in to prove that no
amount of dedication can make Dick pop on SNL, coming into the
already-lukewarm material like a wet blanket with his silky,
all-too-calculated voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">As Dick mentions in his monologue, he was stepping in last minute
for Elliott Gould, and man, this episode sure has those vibes.
Although Dick plugs into this episode far more than his last, which
relegated him frequently to limp solo pieces, he doesn't enchant the
writers any more. His monologue was where he shined the most, making
decent use of his wry delivery but man... what is there to even say
outside of that? Some sketches were moderately ambitious (the Bees
sketch) but all of it was pretty grim, and all of it found Dick
awkwardly plugged in and mumbling through his material in that way
that reminds you that Dick Cavett is incapable of doing anything
that steps outside of a very small box which he is, nonetheless,
incredibly comfortable in. I can't even really single out a single
sketch that's interesting to talk about. Thanks a lot, Elliott.
<i>(Penned 6/16/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: D.</b></span>
</p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
11/20/76: Paul Simon / George Harrison (S2 E08)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Alright, so the Paul Simon episode was rather odd. I had fairly
different hopes for it; considering his last episode was more a
musical extravaganza than a proper SNL episode, I was looking
forward to seeing Simon lead off a more conventional episode of SNL
as host, which... didn't exactly pan out. But with the circumstances
of the episode, I can get behind how things shook out. Paul Simon
and George Harrison are two legendary musicians, with the latter
being one of the most elusive grabs that the show could've gotten at
the time, and it remains an elusive grab to this day, so if we're
gonna have him in the studio, why not let him show two of his music
videos? How many outlets were there for those back in 1976? I can
only imagine how exciting that must've been at the time, and they're
still pretty fun to watch now. </span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">It helps, too, that Simon and the show got to play around with some
more comedic work as well. The monologue, of course, is iconic, and
the visual of Simon dressed up like a turkey sincerely singing
"Still Crazy After All These Years" is aces, but the cold open
build-up is a delightful accoutrement. (There's an actually-funny
Chevy cameo!) The post-monologue commercial, too, is a piece that I
can only assume is vastly-underrated; it's a hilarious concept (the
stone-crunching sounds absolutely sent me) that makes perfect use of
Jane's dry, deadpan delivery. Paul didn't get to do a ton else
sketch-wise, but he sold the show's biggest sketch ("Billy Paul")
perfectly, if not just because it is intrinsically funny to see
Simon playing a soft-spoken tough guy. He's, improbably, a genuinely
good comedic performer, and the greatest shame here is just that the
musical nature of the episode overshadows his chance to play along
with the cast more. With that being said, this was a pretty good
time. <i>(Penned 6/16/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: B.</b></span>
</p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
11/27/76: Jodie Foster / Brian Wilson (S2 E09)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">The prospect of a child/teenaged host is about as novel as it is
nerve-wracking, and indeed, it's sort of hard to imagine what it
would look like for a 14 year-old Jodie Foster to politely solicit
sketch suggestions from a cocaine-addled writer's room, but dammit,
this episode kind of works! Jodie isn't the strongest host, but I
feel like that's fairly acceptable given her age, and while she
doesn't sell all of her sketches, she's integrated into the show
pretty well. She scores one especially great sketch, a sweet,
slice-of-life piece with her student character obsessing over her
teacher. It stands in stark contrast to her awkward performances in
some of the night's other pieces, locking in perfectly and
charmingly to the fast-paced dialogue (barring one cute flub) and
proving herself to be a legitimate scene partner to Dan Aykroyd,
which is no small feat at all. Mr. Mike also gets the great blessing
of getting to read this week's twisted children's story to an actual
child, and while all Jodie really has to do is sit on his lap and
grin along to his narration, her presence gives the sketch the bump
that it needs to land all of its macabre detail pointedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Fortunately, too, even if the other sketches don't play too much to
Jodie's strengths or feature Jodie at all, they're all pretty
strong. Jodie's roles in the Bees sketch and "Puberty Blockers" are
divertive, but their central premises shine through as sharp
continuations to tried-and-true bits. The "Don Pardo" sketch was a
sweet tribute to the show's seasoned announcer and a strong
distillation of the past two seasons' worth of jokes about him. Dan
and Laraine got to shine in two solo bits, the former being one of
my favorite pieces from the past season (the metal detector sketch).
Lastly, Gilda's runner through the episode was very enjoyable and
charming work as usual from her, though I wish she was more in
commission here; she's great at playing more childlike characters
and feel like she could've concocted something special with Jodie.
All in all, in a season that's left me fairly mixed up to this
point, this episode was far more solid than its negative reputation
suggests. <i>(Penned 6/17/21)</i></span>
</p>
<div><b>GRADE: B.</b></div>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
12/11/76: Candice Bergen / Frank Zappa (S2 E10)
</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFdtzWlShpxUuuZEeSg8P3IDZTYfEFrBLhO-FlWfB94ecUh6o4M_l39QUnnQ4IK12Vl5kq3UDxgZMTyFk28NUCw7Kr2auF-CAonR5Y1FCAUDFzQKCbrj-tfFWWPkmPuuWB0ayFei9kZts/s2048/Screenshot+%252810905%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFdtzWlShpxUuuZEeSg8P3IDZTYfEFrBLhO-FlWfB94ecUh6o4M_l39QUnnQ4IK12Vl5kq3UDxgZMTyFk28NUCw7Kr2auF-CAonR5Y1FCAUDFzQKCbrj-tfFWWPkmPuuWB0ayFei9kZts/s16000/Screenshot+%252810905%2529.png" width="518" /></a></div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Man, can we just get Candace Bergen to host SNL every Christmas? I
don't know what it is about her, but she seems to bring out the best
from the show. It's kind of improbable, really; Candace is charming,
but she's not really a natural host so much as a game participant,
but she's always worked into the show well, and if her legendary
break in "Right to Extreme Stupidity" is any indication, she's more
than content to sit back and enjoy the show in awe as much as the
rest of us.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">She's the sort of host that brings out the best of the cast without
ever trying to out-class them. Perhaps it's no surprise that the
three pieces tonight where it's just her playing off of one of the
show's other performers are all great in their own little ways—her
monologue with Belushi-as-Bogart, her aforementioned piece with
Gilda, and of course the legendary debut of Irvin Mainway, one of
Dan's greatest sketch creations. She also slots in finely as a team
player in this episode's Christmassy mini-epic, "The Killer Trees,"
a piece which (barring some really unfortunate Gilda use) is a
strong dose of dark, seasonal absurdity. So often we see Christmas
episodes from SNL that just feel like the show's already entered
break mode, so to see something that electrifying and involved
punctuate an episode like this is a reminder of the potential that
this sort of episode has to feel special!</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Oh, and Frank Zappa being around, too, was the expected treat;
while I wasn't too into the second performance personally, Belushi's
yelling be damned, the "I Am the Slime" and "Peaches en Regalia"
renditions are stunning. I reckon he would make quite the solid SNL
host, right? Right? Either way, this is what a Christmas episode
should be.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>FINAL GRADE: A+.</b></span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Other things I couldn't slip into the write-up:<br /></span><span style="font-family: Arimo;">— </span><span style="font-family: Arimo;">Although the Polaroid sketch was nothing special, I really liked it
as a bit of a tongue-in-cheek nod to the strange, uncomedic Polaroid
spots Candice did in her previous hosting stints. There's a fun,
meta vibe to the episode in general which I think the bits
complements to well.<br /></span><span style="font-family: Arimo;">— </span><span style="font-family: Arimo;">The joke about Belushi wanting to presumbly sleep with minors was
super unwarranted.<br /></span><span style="font-family: Arimo;">— </span><span style="font-family: Arimo;">I loved the Gary Gilmore Christmas medley. Very topical but the
show had the foresight to set it up so that nothing was lost on me,
which I appreciated. It feels like Mr. Mike's
version of "Winter Wonderland" from the last Candy Berg Christmas
episode, which also serves as a nice, reflective bookend for how far
the show's come since then. <i>(Penned 6/17/21)</i></span>
</p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
1/15/77: Ralph Nader / George Benson (S2 E11)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWON-GlYsYwQxQxgr2n2-4go9Y0kqMYySCVmptmBmfB9-rjh5pm61btSh8-MLJDfwW8NEUgd25mdcu7Sj3yyS-qCyKGTK8oJh3ary9UCQRFI013IfbFBKlh9miM8UtEdcX-EoDL-RPsls/s2048/Screenshot+%252810933%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWON-GlYsYwQxQxgr2n2-4go9Y0kqMYySCVmptmBmfB9-rjh5pm61btSh8-MLJDfwW8NEUgd25mdcu7Sj3yyS-qCyKGTK8oJh3ary9UCQRFI013IfbFBKlh9miM8UtEdcX-EoDL-RPsls/s16000/Screenshot+%252810933%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">So Ralph Nader as a host is kind of weird, right? Another notch in
these early years' penchant for getting the most eclectic line-up
they could manage. For someone I had no real expectations of,
though, I found Nader's presence to be fairly inoffensive, certainly in the upper echelon of non-entertainer hosts. He gets an A for
effort all the way, and while he tends to come in too strong with
his lines, there's a sense that he's enjoying himself, which somehow
registers as more charming than narcissistic. Maybe that's just
because he did get some of the material over against all odds, like
that <i>insane</i> sex doll sketch, or maybe because I can't doubt
from his maniacal peanut-throwing during the goodnights that he was
content with the night going on just a bit longer. Basically, he
felt like a dorky dad appearing on his son's favorite TV show, and
fuck, man, I <i>love</i> that.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">With that being said, the night was for the most part successful
without paying heavy dues to his presence. He's the nucleus only
insofar as he allows the funny to happen around him, whether that
means being hollered at by Dan's Jimmy Carter, fielding inane
questions from Laraine, Bill, and Gilda (all buried deeply in
character work), or stepping offstage entirely so that Andy Kaufman
could victoriously flail himself around doing an all-too-convincing
Elvis impression. Nader never dragged the episode into a crater,
though, for which he deserves all the respect in the world; he's
able with what he's given, undemanding as it may be.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">And speaking of Bill: little Billy Murray makes his debut as the
latest member of the Not Ready for Prime Time Players here, and he
immediately proves himself to be as adept a performer as SNL could
ask for, filling in the night's Belushi deficit that you almost
forget the dude's gone. He gets to demonstrate a refreshing edge to
all of the roles he plays across the episode, big or small. One of
the night's biggest highlights, featuring the dress rehearsal for an
execution, cast him in the sort of smarmy, self-obsessed character
work that's come to define his oeuvre, and he made for a fine,
quietly-befuddled straight man in the debut Coneheads sketch, but
for my money, his best work of the night was in the "Long Distance"
sketch. It's the sort of piece that risks leaving the new guy
hanging out to dry—hell, nobody knows who he is, he wasn't even
announced in the opening credits!—but he confidently anchors the
piece with a startling mix of deliciously mean-spirited humor and
deeply affecting pathos. SNL's been overdue for some freshness, and
while it'll take him some time to get integrated into the show, this
is a promising step forward. <i>(Penned 6/18/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
1/22/77: Ruth Gordon / Chuck Berry (S2 E12)
</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">I'm not quite sure how much of a bead I have on the Ruth Gordon
episode. As I watched it, in spite of its generally subpar nature, I
was immeasurably charmed by Ruth; she seemed like she was having the
time of her life up there, gamely playing along and imbuing all of
her work with a very warm presence... but the revelation that she,
in fact, had a horrible time by all accounts, pulls me away from
that a bit. Respect to Ruth, though, I suppose—she knows how to put
on a show for the audience which seems to speak towards a more
cheerful, false reality.</span>
</p>
<div>
<div>
Like its host, too, the episode feels energetic and enthusiastically
put-together, though none of the material truly gels. It feels like
the cast bringing their A-game over some B-tier writing. John has
returned to the show, notably and perhaps unwisely, to ride out the
cold open and a meandering sketch from a wheelchair before riskily
wobbling onstage for the goodnights, so I applaud the effort there,
I suppose? Dan and Laraine do their fair share of work here as well,
each holding up some pretty iffy material by the strength of their
charisma: the elderly pimp sketch has a weird, dead energy, but
Dan's violent screams tickled me silly, and the Barbara Streisand
sketch was minutes too long but packed some enjoyably scathing bite
in no small part due to Laraine's character work. (Dan did get a
real banger of a sketch, though, with his prototypically-insane
"Crazy Frank" commercial spot.) Ruth plugged into the show most
effectively with Gilda, especially in the charming slice-of-life
babysitter sketch; it's a further testament to their surprising
rapport that Ruth even helps make an Emily Litella vehicle work a
bit.
</div>
</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">There's at least a kernel of something to appreciate in every
sketch, but it's a characteristically uneven outing for Season 2
that was buoyed, in no small part, by false enthusiasm. It was nice
to be cast under the spell for a bit, at least.
<i>(Penned 6/18/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: B-.</b></span>
</p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
1/29/77: Fran Tarkenton / Leo Sayer, Donny Harper (S2 E13)
</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhobDRWRB_VK7FMdBaiujQUW0aMH0hshvm1VoezEgsH2sv74UMRxLGfrs-O6SiwA3tv01_HkvbKzJ7QGuPy3_5wtinFDHxyxDhi9hFf3Yi1yz5k-T8FMY7HbGPC0z1pmIfa0Dm3clSkm94/s2048/Screenshot+%252810636%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhobDRWRB_VK7FMdBaiujQUW0aMH0hshvm1VoezEgsH2sv74UMRxLGfrs-O6SiwA3tv01_HkvbKzJ7QGuPy3_5wtinFDHxyxDhi9hFf3Yi1yz5k-T8FMY7HbGPC0z1pmIfa0Dm3clSkm94/s16000/Screenshot+%252810636%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">While I'm usually pretty interested in this season's string of more
peculiar, novelty offerings, I can't say I was too excited about the
series' first athlete host—Fran Tarkenton. Nothing personal against
the guy, but athletes have never proved themselves to be the most
conducive to comedy. At best, they're just a fun lug who weathers
the night with enthusiasm, if not always burning charisma. This
wasn't the most successful episode, though, in large part to Fran,
who just isn't interesting enough to get a lot of material over
more. He's surrounded by decent, very involved sketches from an
episode that is very clearly trying its best with him, but when your
central figure isn't malleable, it dooms your sketches to trudge in
a qualitatively straight line.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">The episode as at its best when it slot him in as a cog in the
overarching framework. I loved the ongoing runner, starting the
evening off with a pep talk and treating the night like a football
game with him as the star player in need of occasional assists and
advice. With that being said, it didn't always work, and Fran didn't
do much to fill in those occasional gaps. It's certainly
entertaining to watch a bedroom sketch get repeatedly interrupted by
time-outs with color commentary from Bill Murray for instance, but
at the same time, the material that metaness is being applied to
isn't anything too new, and at a certain point you're just waiting
boredly for the sketch to be interrupted 'cuz it's not like Fran is
gonna suddenly add something to the writing. The show is generally
smart to not leave him hanging out to dry, pairing him with
performers who can do most of the heavy-lifting and cover for his
awkwardness, though curiously, in capitalizing on sketches that cast
him as a racist, steroid-addled, and not-very-good football player,
the night seems designed to make him look like a big old dummy
anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Either way, the best pieces of the night were ones that sat outside
of the night's overall tone: Dan delivered yet another
enjoyably-insane infomercial for oversized Swiss Army Gun, and
teamed up with Bill as secret service agents bent on helping Amy
Carter pass her history quiz. (Bill had a pretty good night in
general as well, which was nice!) We also get one of the most
legendary Jane Curtin Update moments, with her aggressively and
victoriously flashing the camera in response to a middling review of
her work at the desk. So I can ultimately respect the spectacle and
ambition, but more than anything else I wish that the host was a bit
more special. Leo Sayer's brain-melting falsetto, at least, will
haunt me for the years to come. <i>(Penned 6/20/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: B-.</b></span>
</p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
2/26/77: Steve Martin / The Kinks (S2 E14)
</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgpjzz28p443RZOQN1DeLgyePgQxN0h_RVaGk525hDHn4wRH3pg9DqZTMQ-WxgStu_T52VvO-ost4sUfDvfDnExsPRs4yVeVEzNc6OS6OHcWiz_QsNmcC-xt_USYcR0-CBbOijRBEt-wQ/s2048/Screenshot+%252810642%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgpjzz28p443RZOQN1DeLgyePgQxN0h_RVaGk525hDHn4wRH3pg9DqZTMQ-WxgStu_T52VvO-ost4sUfDvfDnExsPRs4yVeVEzNc6OS6OHcWiz_QsNmcC-xt_USYcR0-CBbOijRBEt-wQ/s16000/Screenshot+%252810642%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">As with his first hosting stint, while Steve fits in seamlessly to
the fabric of the show, we're still yet to really actualize his
presence to the fullest potential. Indeed, it feels here like he's
just sort of asserting his reliable presence over a sea of material
that certainly utilizes him well, but not to the end of making a
huge impact most of the time. Sure, we can have him play a reliable
straight man in this episode's return of the Coneheads, but if your
sketch doesn't have anything new to offer over the last, it feels
like a waste of this great gathering of comic minds. And in other
news, yes, Steve can sell just about any quick, silly bit of
dialogue you give him, but his motor-mouthed delivery and the
sparkle in his eyes were just about the most functional thing about
the "Hollywood Squares" sketch, otherwise a string of iffy
impressions (not this era's strongsuit) and even iffier direction.
As with his standup monologue, Steve gives off a sort of
intensely-calculated looseness, which I'm hoping eventually becomes
more legitimately loose with future hosting gigs.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">There were two particularly strong pieces which made perfect use of
Steve. The first, featuring him as a doctor trying to assure the
parents of a terminally-ill child, is an effective vehicle for his
ability to be both goody and straitlaced simultaneously, a persona
that becomes delightfully-sharp as the sketch takes stranger and
stranger turns. Even better, though, was the absolutely delightful
date sketch shared between Steve and Gilda; it's one of the first
chances we get to see their remarkable chemistry, and the two bounce
perfectly off of each other, spouting beautifully-specific dialogue
while exhibiting a legitimate connection. While those two sketches
are better than anything from Martin's first episode, I feel like
this one is still an overall step down because of the lessened
consistency. We're getting there with Steve, though. I can feel
it.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>FINAL GRADE: B-.</b></span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">(Oh yeah, and Lily Tomlin made some appearances, though not much to
the episode's benefit. As always, she's charming, but her charm
doesn't quite funnel into funny material, even if this time it's
more the fault of her own ideas than a writer's room struggling to
know what to do with her.) <i>(Penned 6/21/21)</i></span>
</p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
3/12/77: Sissy Spacek / Richard Baskin (S2 E15)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW35iNhr-YT_NT6X0cFrTkO3YhnsHA1XRMroNdigB35hBqWK-yLMo01LJTRsD8paQ2t7Eolz0J70LjxkE1a5AY5-qT5Xs3JbbDVQHlCEQTeXl1hZfRo1i1GKdb3gG8eKiXURYK0yNmyZQ/s2048/Screenshot+%252810813%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW35iNhr-YT_NT6X0cFrTkO3YhnsHA1XRMroNdigB35hBqWK-yLMo01LJTRsD8paQ2t7Eolz0J70LjxkE1a5AY5-qT5Xs3JbbDVQHlCEQTeXl1hZfRo1i1GKdb3gG8eKiXURYK0yNmyZQ/s16000/Screenshot+%252810813%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">I wanted to like this Sissy Spacek episode more than I did. I feel
like it's an episode that by and large should work, and an episode
with a lot of enthusiasm surrounding it—hell, it won an Emmy!—but so
little from it really pops off, leaving things feeling,
frustratingly, like they're consistently almost there, but just...
not. It's hard to attribute that to Sissy, who radiates a certain
charisma and who gets to demonstrate her capabilities as a host
every step of the way, but she also doesn't really elevate the
material so much as slipping properly into the ensemble. When the
ensemble's not doing the best work, though, what are we left
with?</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Well, a pretty mixed episode. The best of the best is the cold
open, with Sissy and the entire cast awkwardly trying to persevere
through the night in spite of the death of Dave Wilson, delivering
half-assed eulogies with the general information they've gathered in
passing about the guy. It's the one moment where the episode's
concepts crystallize into a thoroughly-fulfilling scene, but the
ensuing night isn't able to spark that in the rest of its material.
The "Ask Jimmy Carter" sketch has Dan and Bill doing strong work,
and a particularly great bit where Dan's Carter talks down a caller
on acid, but everything else takes a backseat before segueing into a
limp piece that puts poor Garrett in drag. The "quintlexia" sketch
has a decent, absurdist idea at its root, but the iffiness of its
subject matter (Jane, at a certain point, actively mocks Bill's
learning disability) and Bill's intense stage fright keep it stuck
in a limbo. And the impotence sketch is Sissy's best shot at
delivering a powerhouse performance, but it ends up being too
listless and unassisted by her delivery. </span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">The most successful proper sketch by default, is "Bad Playhouse," a
fairly straightforward, unelaborate sketch taking the piss out of
Scandinavian existentialism, but at least it nails those goalposts.
Oh, how I wish I liked you more though, episode.
<i>(Penned 6/22/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: C+.</b></span>
</p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
3/19/77: Broderick Crawford / Levon Helm, Dr. John, The Meters (S2
E16)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxg8gJG7BI2t_DUo_PK1giAOUBH1yGbQ5zzxStPBvX85hCogo-zkKJhm8pKYrlv8JrZeKHN52WK6Kbe2xwEIUuw-gMT9vwBy8BgaSd4I6IRA1xCwQ48hFq2nfyyCbCTfNiE82-1EVwbQ0/s2048/Screenshot+%252810818%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxg8gJG7BI2t_DUo_PK1giAOUBH1yGbQ5zzxStPBvX85hCogo-zkKJhm8pKYrlv8JrZeKHN52WK6Kbe2xwEIUuw-gMT9vwBy8BgaSd4I6IRA1xCwQ48hFq2nfyyCbCTfNiE82-1EVwbQ0/s16000/Screenshot+%252810818%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">The Broderick Crawford episode should be something of a small
disaster. By all accounts, Broderick spent his entire week at the
show hammered and drifting around bars, and on the show itself, he
spends much of his time sitting on the monologue stage in a comfy
chair, somewhere between performer and audience member. (I found his
occasional contributions to the show incredibly charming, for what
it's worth.) Regardless, I felt like it got off fairly well,
producing an episode with the right sorts of weird vibes that, if
not consistently strong, did a good job of maintaining your
attention and demonstrating the sort of diversity in its sketch
content that makes SNL as fun as it theoretically always should
be.</span>
</p>
<div>
Across the sketches, we get such delights as a Siamese twin hostage
situation, an interview with an incredibly nonchalant Godzilla, and
Lucy Ricardo spraying whipped cream on nuclear warheads, and even if
not all of them worked, there's something to be said about how the
material teemed with life rather than stagnating as this era
perpetually risks. The material also offered a nice mix of
demonstrating the cast's strengths, and sometimes their more
underrated capabilities. Sure, Belushi can yuck it up as Futaba
through another bit of half-baked anarchy, but I much preferred his
wise-cracking Godzilla performance, a nice display of his ability to
charm. And sure, Gilda can do her Baba Wawa shtick well, but the
<i>I Love Lucy</i> piece was a delightful display of her physical
comedy prowess. (Dan, meanwhile, continues to score with his insane
commercial pitches—this time advertising a leather shop where you
slaughter your own cows—and Jane continues to cruelly play with my
emotions with another scintillating Update opener.)
</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">The best of the night, though, was the historic moment where Bill
Murray simply sat at a desk and addressed the audience that he felt
like he was failing as a cast member. It's been interesting to trace
his tenure up to this point: aside from making a scorching debut in
the Nader episode, he's mostly just hung around the ensemble,
occasionally making decent contributions but also frequently being
caught in thankless roles. Last episode also found him in his worst
place yet, anxiously drifting through the "quintlexia" sketch and
attracting the ire of the show's writers for sabotaging their
material with a bad performance. But here, he's poised, and he's
vulnerable; it's as much a piece of comedy as a plea, but even with
its dark bite—he uses his dead father to quietly guilt the audience
into laughing for him—it's shockingly heartfelt, capturing a moment
in time where Bill Murray wasn't a smug, self-assured comedy
superstar so much as a young, starry-eyed comedian who just wanted
to make it on the show. Only a few more weeks, Billy.
<i>(Penned 6/23/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: B.</b></span>
</p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
3/26/77: Jack Burns / Santana (S2 E17)
</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv7UTdttj1JQV4M7ikpawJTD7PT8WVivLf2_c_GmH1IOzDr35nS_hBiv62sEd4iZPBLm6_87Pr4Vrs44SSoxhp5FJKSjK3U1gmiLEREN0KaUn83N0TqXR50_lh_S6CoILMLunM6aTN3Ag/s2048/Screenshot+%252810827%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv7UTdttj1JQV4M7ikpawJTD7PT8WVivLf2_c_GmH1IOzDr35nS_hBiv62sEd4iZPBLm6_87Pr4Vrs44SSoxhp5FJKSjK3U1gmiLEREN0KaUn83N0TqXR50_lh_S6CoILMLunM6aTN3Ag/s16000/Screenshot+%252810827%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Jack Burns, as a host, was a bit tough for me to crack. He was more
than sufficient for the material at hand, and occasionally the spice
that made a scene land, while other times he was fairly dead in the
water. I suppose that’s the paradox with getting an old comedy pro
to host your hip late-night comedy show, huh? I feel like he brought
about a real variety show air to proceedings, whether or not he was
a participant in the sort of sketches comprising his episode. The
predominantly punchline-driven or pun-laden affairs and the bevy of
racial oopsie-doos give things an unexpectedly old-timey feel, to
sometimes-charming, sometimes-exhausting effect.</span>
</p>
<div>
Some bits are more cute than funny, but feel like they were pulled out
of old comedy pocketbooks, a time when joke construction wasn’t that
elaborate and you could just come up with something as simple as “army
man officiating a wedding,” deliver strong performances, and call it a
day. It works, at least. The “Squatters” sketch was similar, but then
never really gets over the initial stupidity of its conceit; I get the
appeal of constructing something of a mini-epic around the dumbest
idea possible, but when all you do is repeat lame jokes for five
minutes and dress Gilda and Garrett up as a Native American and a
slave, you’re not gonna get far. (Oh, and the topic of some old hat
racist bullshit, the less said about the episode’s obligatory
brownface sketch and the sketch with everyone speaking with African
accents, the better.)
</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">On the plus side, though, the cold open and Coneheads sketch
offered a nice spark. John Belushi holding the show hostage in the
former was a fun exercise in his ability to finagle with the
audience’s trust and be smarmy in a legitimately hysterical way,
whereas the latter just made for some good old-fashioned silliness
(and breaking!). The best of the night, though, and the best shot
that Jack got, was in the sketch’s final night, appropriately
bookending the overall vibes by casting him as a washed-up comedy
writer attempting to leech onto Jane and Gilda—a nice, slice-of-life
style piece with hints of sadness, all making for a thoughtful
meditation on how comedy’s transformed overtime. It helps put into
perspective, coincidentally, what made SNL feel so fresh and
different from that which preceded it, even if some of that is lost
almost half a century down the line, and indeed lost in this
episode’s occasionally-hacky shuffle. <i>(Penned 6/23/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
4/09/77: Julian Bond / Tom Waits, Brick (S2 E18)
</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Julian Bond's episode is one that took me some time to sit with,
and it remains a tricky little episode to assess. Julian, to his
credit, is a surprisingly charming host; if he's a bit wooden, he's
very polished wood and a surprisingly engaging performer who more
than less plays an important hand in selling all of the things he's
given. Is that, in part, because the idea of someone like Julian
Bond telling Garrett that lighter-skinned African-Americans are
naturally more intelligent than darker ones is intrinsically
amusing? Perhaps, but he imbues the writing with intrigue; it should
stand as a testament to that fact that I was able to navigate the
episode's obligatory Carter piece with my interest
maintained. </span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">With that being said, assessing the Julian Bond episode is
assessing a double-edged blade. This is a very racially-charged
episode, unsurprisingly—even excluding pieces of a more political
nature—and one written by SNL's white-as-shit writer's room, but
whereas other attempts to participate all too gamely in challenging
material have come across as offensive and degrading... this episode
gets over. It runs the gamut from outrageous material, like the
aforementioned "Black Perspective" sketch with Garrett, to some more
challenging content, like the slice-of-life Farbers sketch, all with
Julian serving as a confident anchor. SNL's writers room succeeds
here, and there's a conflicting sense that they "got away with it"
which makes me question if I should choose to be pleased by that
surprise, or to remain frustrated at the show's inherent DNA. But
I'll choose to allow my appreciation for the night's nuance to
remain unfettered, and I'll enable the scale to be tipped with some
assistance from the awesome musical performance from Brick and Dan's
insane "Dr. X" sketch. It's a good one!
<i>(Penned 6/25/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: B+.</b></span>
</p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
4/16/77: Elliott Gould / McGarrigle Sisters, Roslyn Kind (S2 E19)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">At the end of this episode, Elliott Gould's third hosting gig, John
exclaimed that Elliott was the best host that the show's ever had,
and while I don't think his first two episodes fully popped off for
me to the point of succeeding... goddammit, we got there with this
one. And weirdly enough, I don't think that it's because Elliott is
the sort of host that'll make a huge splash and command the stage.
He's often relegated to straight roles here, if he gets a chance to
really appear in a sketch at all. (Most of the night's most
successful material admittedly has no stakes in his hosting.) But
there's a clear sense that he's just there to put on a show; he's a
consummate performer who's nevertheless willing to not just share
but shed the spotlight to those around him with sincere deference.
In layman's terms, he's kind of a fucking badass, even if he only
really gets a few chances to show that to the audience.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Most prominently, he carries SNL's first truly successful musical
monologue, which by default makes it pretty memorable. While in the
past, Elliott delivered straightforward, comedy-scant musical
performances at the top of his shows, SNL realized this time that it
could do this thing where it fuses his musical showmanship with
comedic intent. The resulting castration walk is a hoot, spelling
out an expectedly dark premise with an infectious sense of goofiness
carried out nimbly by Elliott, John, and Bill. Elsewhere, Elliott is
put to good use mediating over the Coneheads sketch and cold open,
imbuing his thankless roles with the sort of life that makes him,
nevertheless, a thrilling component of the scenes. He's less the
face of the show than the backbone, which is a noble position to
hold all the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Some of the best material of the night, though, didn't necessitate
his involvement so much as his willingness to let the sketch pros do
their work. Bill, notably, gets to hold down a fairly defining night
for his early tenure here. He fumbles pretty roughly through "You've
Come a Long Way, Buddy" (though not to the detriment of the
already-rickety sketch, Dan's performance notwithstanding), but the
debut of Nick Summers more than makes up for those blunders. It's a
fairly rough outline of what the sketches would inevitably become
but he fills out that roughness with pathos, navigating the line of
making his kitschy character a subject of strong empathy. He also
shines alongside Garrett (an equally unrecognized performer) in the
ATM sketch, a high-concept bit of absurdity that they offer
refreshingly laid-back performances over, creating something of a
slice-of-life piece from an alternate universe where ATM machines
necessitate IQ tests and spit out head cheese instead of paper
money. </span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">There's really something here for everyone. Elliott delivers, the
cast delivers, and if you're the kind of broken human being who
likes sports bloopers presented with some weird, implicatively
auteur slant that doesn't transfer across, then Gary Weiss has your
back, too. SNL is still far from a well-oiled machine, but this
episode makes for a good example of the potential for gems in that
roughness, especially for a season that's sometimes felt a bit too
fruitless. <i>(Penned 6/25/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>FINAL GRADE: A-.</b></span>
</p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
4/23/77: Eric Idle / Alan Price, Neil Innes (S2 E20)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Expectations, as I've said before, are the mortal enemy of SNL. No
amount of theoretical promise, or even past precedent set by the
show, can spell out the potential strength or weakness of an
episode, try as it might. And for me, although it was incredibly
well-assembled, Eric Idle's second hosting stint didn't
quite stick the landing for me. It's an episode that works hard, but
one whose material doesn't resonate quite enough, even if it makes
for a worthy enough successor to Idle's instant-classic debut.</span>
</p>
<p><span style="font-family: Arimo;"></span></p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">The episode certainly rises to meet him with a series of more
absurdist ideas and strong performances, but it's just not quite
enough most of the time. Most obviously, the "Heavy Wit
Championship" piece is a clunker when it set itself up to be a
centerpiece; it's the sort of idea that seems so strong up front but
reveals itself to be limp on arrival, with John and Eric trading
groaners while sluggishly pushing each other around. A later,
surefire piece, the gun airline sketch, holds dark promise, but it
hits an early crescendo and can't figure out where else to go with
the viscerality of its conceit. The rest of the more long-format
sketch material is alright, though again, didn't speak to me too
much: I've never been as engaged in the show's Nixon material as
most, so I glazed over the Frost/Nixon sketch up top the show, and
the later British war movie sketch fluctuated up and down a bit too
much with the repetition of its punchline, even if it got some
laughs out of me. </span>
</p>
<div>
But now, the good! The episode's absurdity was best in its short
bursts: the ongoing runner involving Eric's failed telethon alongside
the Queen made for a fun narrative, Dan got to go one-on-one with Eric
in the rapid-fire nonsense "Plain Talk" sketch, and Gary Weiss scores
a home run with his "body language" collaboration with Eric. (The two
clearly hit it off considering he'd go on to direct the <i>Rutles</i>'
TV movie.) Neil Innes also contributes two delightfully fitting
musical numbers for the episode, a Lennon-inspired bit of piano
psychedelia per the Rutles and a colorful, cheerful romp in the form
of "Shangri-La." With that being said, the pockets of immense goodness
don't do quite enough to counter the more substantive, iffy sketches
that plague the line-up, and the end result just feels like the
episode teasing promise that it never expends. <i>(Penned 6/26/21)</i>
</div>
<p style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
5/14/77: Shelley Duvall / Joan Armatrading (S2 E21)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">I'm tickled that, against all odds, the Shelley Duvall episode did
more for me in some weird way than Eric Idle. Obviously, my
calibration is set back a bit when the host isn't someone known for
forward-thinking comedy, but I think the Shelley episode deserves
more credit for its strengths than the bump it got from my leniency.
Something about it feels different in a distinctly refreshing way,
like the show trying at something different, which for SNL tends to
always be appreciable, if nothing else.</span>
</p>
<div>
Perhaps it's due to Shelley's pedigree as a dramatic actor, but she
seemed to fulfill an itch by the show to delve in the dramatic and try
at different tones. Instead of the usual cold open and monologue up
top the show, we come to in the aftermath of an aborted cold open and
follow Shelley into a backstage locker room where she chats it up with
the girls of SNL being hard-asses on the newbie and toughening her up
while the live TV feed plays behind her. If it's not laugh-out-loud
funny, it's fascinating as hell seeing the show play its meta games so
straight—there's not even laughter in the mix to air out the
tension—and those off-beat vibes continue into the show-opening
musical number substituting the place of a conventional monologue.
(Even the show's obligatory, weekly Gary Weiss film is swapped for an
absurdist short film from a different director about brides, and it's
single-handedly better than anything Gary's contributed to the show.)
</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">The rest of the night's bits are either solidly enjoyable or at
least novel, which is pretty much the best thing I could ask for
from these early years of SNL. Both the bank robbery and
slice-of-life sketches made for strong Dan showcases; the former is
one of the best, pure-funny sketches this season, hilariously
de-escalating Dan and gang's armed robbery when everyone gets too
confused by what his disguise is supposed to represent, while the
latter finds him ardently defending his van upgrade obsession from
his wife (Shelley) with startlingly affecting conviction. It's also
Shelley's best shot all episode, and she knocks it out of the park.
She's used wisely elsewhere as a member of the ensemble but the
episode keeps her on her toes and she handles her responsibilities
nimbly, whether that means playing a brain-washed cult member or
helping Gilda and Laraine differentiate Ricardo Montalban from other
near-identical, hive-minded Latin lovers in his midst. Aside from
the Elvis sketch, everything here had some spark of enjoyability
that was at least partially sold by Shelley's involvement, so what
can I really complain about? <i>(Penned 6/26/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2 style="font-family: Arimo;">
5/21/77: Buck Henry / Jennifer Warnes, Kenny Vance (S2 E22)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">Buck Henry, charming as he always is, seems to have become the host
who most harnesses SNL's carnal, risqué desires, for better or
worse. Do you wanna see Buck get dry-humped by a male "random
audience member" on the monologue stage, or lust after Jane at the
Update desk, or jerk himself off as Charles Lindbergh? Then this
episode's got everything you need. That's not to belittle what it
accomplishes: there's a strangely epic feel to a lot of the
material, and there's enough risk taken that it's not an episode
that can truly aggravate me, but it also just makes me wonder when
Buck will get to rein over a fully successful, gratifying episode of
the show again.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">I suppose it's worth listing what I found to be at least valiant
efforts, even if little fully gelled. The Coneheads sketch was
theoretically the most thoughtful, game-changing installment yet,
with the titular characters deciding to out themselves and return to
space, but its best laughs are its usual ones—once we transition to
the far-too-long interstitial sequence where they drive around New
York and actually get into space, the scale exceeds any degree of
written substance, and even the climactic fight at the end feels a
bit desperate. (Why do John and Dan just... jump out the window
without even attacking each other?) On the other hand, Bill's shower
talk show sketch has a promising concept and unique presentation,
but it suffers the opposite sort of issue, never feeling like it
organically extends its premise into truly exciting territory
despite the devilish set-up of introducing Buck as as the man
Gilda's cheating on him with. Last but not least in the
not-quite-there camp, the Lindbergh sketch actually has a cool
framing mechanism, but it suffers from how intent it is to play
things as dirty; it seems manufactured to fuck with the censors more
than anything else, before devolving into a fucking Chevy Chase
cameo vehicle.</span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;">If I were to point at two fully good things: Buck's best sketch,
and notably one of his only sketches not tainted by some draining
sort of debauchery, was "How Your Children Grow," a piece that
starts off in a unique place and maintains that curiosity all the
way to a satisfying, closing punchline. And Mr. Mike, repetitive as
his needle routine may be, delivers as fine of a way to close out
this season as anyone could, gathering the cast and writers into a
choir and commanding them to scream and contort on the floor in
needle-eyed agony. Ultimately, though, this finale serves as an apt
summary of Season 2 as a whole: there's some good stuff buried in
there, but for the most part it's saddled by expectations that it
doesn't quite fill. <i>(Penned 6/26/21)</i></span>
</p>
<p>
<span style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>GRADE: C+.</b></span>
</p>
<h2>Cumulative Season Episode Rankings:</h2>
<div>
<div><b>1. </b>Candice Bergen (A+)</div>
<div><b>2. </b>Eric Idle #1 (A)</div>
<div><b>3. </b>Elliott Gould #3 (A-)</div>
<div><b>4. </b>Norman Lear (A-)</div>
<div><b>5. </b>Ralph Nader (B+)</div>
<div><b>6. </b>Shelley Duvall (B+)</div>
<div><b>7. </b>Lily Tomlin (B+)</div>
<div><b>8. </b>Julian Bond (B+)</div>
<div><b>9. </b>Eric Idle #1 (B)</div>
<div><b>10. </b>Steve Martin #1 (B)</div>
<div><b>11. </b>Jodie Foster (B)</div>
<div><b>12. </b>Paul Simon (B)</div>
<div><b>13. </b>Broderick Crawford (B)</div>
<div><b>14. </b>Steve Martin #2 (B-)</div>
<div><b>15. </b>Buck Henry #3 (B-)</div>
<div><b>16.</b> Jack Burns (B-)</div>
<div><b>17. </b>Fran Tarkenton (B-)</div>
<div><b>18. </b>Ruth Gordon (B-)</div>
<div><b>19. </b>Buck Henry #4 (C+)</div>
<div><b>20. </b>Sissy Spacek (C+)</div>
<div><b>21. </b>Karen Black (C-)</div>
<div><b>22. </b>Dick Cavett (D+)</div>
</div>
<p style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>FAVORITE SKETCHES:<br /></b></p><p style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>10.</b> "Gags Beasley" (S2E17 / Jack Burns)<br /><b>9.</b> "Dragnet" (S2E03 / Eric Idle #1)<br /><b>8.</b> "Quarry" (S2E08 / Paul Simon)<br /><b>7.</b> "Long Distance" (S2E11 / Ralph Nader)<br /><b>6.</b> "Coneheads at Home" (S2E11 / Ralph Nader) or "The Farbers Meet the Coneheads" (S2E17 / Jack Burns)<br /><b>5.</b> "The Ointment" (S2E06 / Buck Henry)<br /><b>4.</b> "Lovers" (S2E14 / Steve Martin)<br /><b>3.</b> "Insect" (S2E21 / Shelley Duvall)<br /><b>2.</b> "24 Hour Bank" (S2E19 / Elliott Gould)<br /><b>1.</b> "Consumer Probe" (S2E10 / Candice Bergen)</p>
<p style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>Other great sketches:</b> "Debate '76" (S2E01 / Lily Tomlin); "The Metric Leisure Week" (S2E02 / Norman Lear); "A*M*I*S*H" (S2E04 / Karen Black); "Fido Flex" (S2E05 / Steve Martin #1); Paul Simon's Monologue (S2E08 / Paul Simon); "Metal Detector" (S2E09 / Jodie Foster); "Right to Extreme Stupidity League" and "Killer Trees" (S2E10 / Candice Bergen); "TV Execution" (S2E11 / Ralph Nader); Elliott Gould's Monologue (The Castration Walk) and "Nick Summers" (S2E19 / Elliott Gould); "Body Language" (S2E20 / Eric Idle); "Steak House" (S2E21 / Shelley Duvall)</p>
<p style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>FAVORITE MUSICAL PERFORMANCES / ETC.</b></p>
<p style="font-family: Arimo;">
<b>10. </b>The Meters (S2E16 / Broderick Crawford)<b><br />9. </b>Paul Simon and George Harrison (S2E08 / Paul Simon)<br /><b>8. </b>Dr. John and Levon Helm (S2E16 / Broderick Crawford)<b><br />7.</b> Neil Innes (S2E20; Eric Idle #2)<br /><b>6. </b>"The Antler Dance" (S2E01 / Lily Tomlin)<br /><b>5. </b>The Band (S2E06 / Buck Henry)<br /><b>4. </b>Joe Cocker & Joe Cocker (S2E03 / Eric Idle)<br /><b>3.</b> "Gary Gilmore" Christmas medley (S2E10 / Candice Bergen)<br /><b>2.</b> "Chevy's Girls (S2E02 / Norman Lear)<br /><b>1.</b> Frank Zappa (S2E10 / Candice Bergen)</p>
<p style="font-family: Arimo;"><b>SEASON GRADE AVERAGE: B-.</b></p>
<p style="font-family: Arimo;">
<i>Follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>!</i>
</p>
<p style="font-family: Arimo;"></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL7gZpzjMbDxDiQJy92gM8rC12eYD2yjeVmj3B8D2pa741WV8AOOmu0aYVdmw0X4_lAMUD0F2__fxJOYkk5k3HtaEm2qRdQ5oFrS16PJ3sz99n5NgB5zzM8lvIpZGZHH_cqOqMHLNVXSI/s2048/Screenshot+%252810573%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL7gZpzjMbDxDiQJy92gM8rC12eYD2yjeVmj3B8D2pa741WV8AOOmu0aYVdmw0X4_lAMUD0F2__fxJOYkk5k3HtaEm2qRdQ5oFrS16PJ3sz99n5NgB5zzM8lvIpZGZHH_cqOqMHLNVXSI/s16000/Screenshot+%252810573%2529.png" width="518" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arimo;"><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 1</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><b>Season 2</b><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/07/saturday-night-live-reviewed-and-ranked.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 3</a><br style="font-style: normal;" /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/09/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; font-style: normal; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 4</a><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"> | </span><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/12/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 5</a></span><br style="font-style: normal;" /><span style="font-family: Arimo; font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Season 6</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/03/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 7</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/06/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 8</a><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/07/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 9</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2022/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 10</a> | <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/01/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 11</a><br /><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2023/10/saturday-night-live-ranked-and-reviewed.html">Season 12</a></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
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</div>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-50725753626260307922021-07-08T13:25:00.000-05:002021-07-08T13:25:41.748-05:00Summer Camp Island Review: Sea Bunnies / Mushrumours<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhao21yByziYC0u5bnYGt43PD1bFpQj7pYwLEf4ii1pagfavE40dWsx7jNnjxP3mV31yaZX0Lgd22AdVcUmjh9rPbyzy3jGiJw54uCjSqXBtsnnU_nwEhIP8rgsAo5wVjeQAY4mfj8fDwA/s2048/Screenshot+%252810941%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhao21yByziYC0u5bnYGt43PD1bFpQj7pYwLEf4ii1pagfavE40dWsx7jNnjxP3mV31yaZX0Lgd22AdVcUmjh9rPbyzy3jGiJw54uCjSqXBtsnnU_nwEhIP8rgsAo5wVjeQAY4mfj8fDwA/s16000/Screenshot+%252810941%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
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<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>"A tendency towards self-pity. I get that.</i></b></span><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>"</i></b></span>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: center;">
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<p></p>
<p>
Considering the different sorts of routes <i>Summer Camp Island</i> has taken
to spice itself up across its various seasons, it'll be interesting to see how
the show, now in its fourth season, is set to hone in on itself. It's not like
it has to, really—<i>SCI</i> is effusively charming and knows exactly what it
wants to be, all while excelling at its singular visions—but the show's always
been intent to expand upon itself, whether through extending its focus to more
members of its cast or, as with last season, constructing more pointed arcs
surrounding them. Season 4 seems to have reverted back to a strictly episodic
feel, so it'll be interesting to see what sort of gains it made from past
experimentation and how much <i>SCI</i> will continue to push itself.
</p>
<p>
To their credit, the first two episodes of the young season, "Sea Bunnies" and
"Mushrumours," point towards some changes in approach. While Oscar takes
leading positions in both of them, Susie appears mildly in the former and
Hedgehog doesn't make any appearances at all. There's something perhaps
disquieting about the show's central figures being so absent, but it also
makes room for <i>SCI</i> to try at new things, even without a guarantee of
complete success. It's a bit of a bumpy start, but an intriguing one all
the same.<br />
</p>
<span><a name='more'></a></span>
<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxhRsyfsZ7gVf-KzELjThhFtuWcNvriD_TGkS6aGqXGW8wy-FPxzH2GZd4UIdOcfd9IohfRYeBHMdaPVVTx-2wbkAli822A12mLBKoGZJ4-c4f00Jy40Szv22txA5gafUi0njlD4Mq6yw/s2048/Screenshot+%252810935%2529.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxhRsyfsZ7gVf-KzELjThhFtuWcNvriD_TGkS6aGqXGW8wy-FPxzH2GZd4UIdOcfd9IohfRYeBHMdaPVVTx-2wbkAli822A12mLBKoGZJ4-c4f00Jy40Szv22txA5gafUi0njlD4Mq6yw/s16000/Screenshot+%252810935%2529.png" width="320" /></a>
</div>
It should go without saying that the flame of my love for
<i>Summer Camp Island</i> burns eternal, but it was met with a bit of confusion
by our season premiere, <b>"Sea Bunnies,"</b> an episode which enthusiastically
rearranges the show's fundamental DNA. It's an incredibly unique episode by
design; taking a note from shows like <i>Adventure Time</i>, Julia Pott
out-sourced an episode to one of her contemporaries, the aesthetic wunderkind
Julian Glander. The end result is a general merging of both of their
sensibilities, with Julian asserting his creative vision over Julia's universe,
and it's a creative partnership that plays to curious effect: sometimes good,
sometimes eh, really.
<p></p>
<p>
I think the biggest point of contention for me, personally, is that it feels
like Julian doesn't quite key into the qualities <i>SCI</i> has that makes it
so alluring. That's not to say his vision is worse, but it's different; it
comes across like Julian using <i>SCI</i> as general wallpaper to concoct his
own personal project apropos of what the show's deal is. It's a potent,
intoxicating voice for sure, crafting a geometric, gradient-colored undersea
universe with abstract and atmospheric musical scoring. <i>SCI</i> is equally
as potent, though, and it feels like its voice, one dominated by a certain
subtlety and coziness, comes in direct conflict with Julian's gleeful
outlandishness. The episode threatens to lose <i>SCI's</i> voice completely.
</p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQaU32CEGTtqs6a_V5pYgt2RSYuUlqWYNZ1L55MKfw1iCv-M7mPNnqFueJYoTTEgW53W3p8XEzHRMnzR1SfxfMt_dWHmaPDICj_pAo6MQnztodJKHeBh0dx6oVZ21i6qZy7sJmZ9odp6Q/s2048/Screenshot+%252810940%2529.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQaU32CEGTtqs6a_V5pYgt2RSYuUlqWYNZ1L55MKfw1iCv-M7mPNnqFueJYoTTEgW53W3p8XEzHRMnzR1SfxfMt_dWHmaPDICj_pAo6MQnztodJKHeBh0dx6oVZ21i6qZy7sJmZ9odp6Q/s16000/Screenshot+%252810940%2529.png" width="320" /></a>
</div>
It's worth talking about the episode's plotting. Oscar accidentally gets
teleported underwater by a magical Portal-Potty, only to be put on assignment to
get a Sea Bunny for Susie—"the latest must-have cute pet accessory according to
'Small Animals Monthly'"—rather than be properly assisted with his current
dilemma. It's a decent set-up to send us into the Glander-verse, where the
established reality of the Island becomes irrelevant. There's that core theme
that <i>SCI </i>has deployed before to strong effect of placing the
inexperienced, young Oscar in an unfamiliar environment, though this episode is
less about exploring his character than taking him on a journey through
unfamiliar, aquatic locales.
<p></p>
<p>
It's kind of all over the place, though I think that works well enough with
its abstract aesthetic. The plot never really builds so much as it pulls Oscar
from one situation to the next, each with their points of intrigue but never
building off of each other. Perhaps one of its most interesting suggestions,
for instance, is the idea that the culture of the bottom of the ocean is
parallel to the world above per the presence of sea bunnies and a Sea Susie,
but that unique revelation is treated with too much ambiguity for "Sea
Bunnies" to make any interesting points out of it. The episode is truly at its
best when it can take pause and slide into a comedic game with its characters,
like Oscar's ethics conversation with the monsters.
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
Ultimately, "Sea Bunnies" isn't a clear-cut winner, but it's a respectable
gamble on something different. There's a joy to it that permeates across the
screen, and that's its greatest quality—you can tell it was as much a dream for
Julian as it was for Julia to create. Even if it's flawed and disconnected from
the show it's dedicated to at times, it's a bombastic debut for Glander, and I
look forward to his ingenuity in future projects.
<p>
<b>"Mushrumours" </b>is more of a return to form, though not without a nice
amount of freshness. A lot of that is due to pairing Alice together with
Oscar—an (animal) family reunion of sorts, Oscar quickly points out to Alice's
dismay. But even beyond that, there's something to be said about pairing two
characters who are both sweet and naive in their own latitudes; Oscar is a
child who's actively discovering a world outside of his sheltered upbringing,
whereas Alice lives with blissful ignorance of any speck of the world that
exists beyond her circle of influence. We've seen that side of Alice before,
most notably in the second episode of the series ("Monster Babies"), but this
episode is the first time that she's been legitimately challenged to step up, an
idea which is as welcome as it is overdue.
</p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZkire9qKdpY-2HOcU4emZZWniPhk3nMAvp4LI3P6R9nyHUzoV2pGUZNEy_AR9Nazadzb5AGLO9UdyC4uBiQXvrjd0WLkmfk_KFXJ6bYuMWkUdJoKgX1K7wuPxJ5TY6OLYrveXPGoiYFw/s2048/Screenshot+%252811043%2529.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZkire9qKdpY-2HOcU4emZZWniPhk3nMAvp4LI3P6R9nyHUzoV2pGUZNEy_AR9Nazadzb5AGLO9UdyC4uBiQXvrjd0WLkmfk_KFXJ6bYuMWkUdJoKgX1K7wuPxJ5TY6OLYrveXPGoiYFw/s16000/Screenshot+%252811043%2529.png" width="320" /></a>
</div>
The premise itself, mind you, is gooey <i>SCI</i> perfection: Alice
masks her distaste for Oscar's mushroom-themed picnic under rationale that
eating them turns your hair into spaghetti, a lie that spreads across the
island courtesy of some gossipy dandelions. Less cute is the fact that Alice's
badmouthing has reached an ominous figure known as the Death Cap, sending
Alice a series of dark premonitions and beginning a steadfast pursuit to
right Alice's wrongs in whatever sinister ways she knows how to. It's the sort
of unnerving situation that Alice is unable to really counteract on her own,
and which becomes a fun chance for Oscar to step it up and try to guide her
along. <br />
<div>
<div>
<div>
<p>
That's all well and good, but the more iffy thing about "Mushrumours"
is how much it feels like it struggles to rest upon a coherent moral. It seems to be setting itself as a basic
lesson in accountability: Alice is terrified of being held to her
words and spends most of the episode trying to find roundabout ways of
solving her issue without the bravery to really tackle it head-on.
Instead of trying to confront the Death Cap, she apologizes to a fairy
ring of mushrooms who accept her apology but without the ability to
alter her fate, and Oscar later suggests that she conduct damage
control over her original lie with a more flattering one to balance
out her karma to a "neutral zero." I can't fault Oscar for being as
adorably childlike as he is—his vest story is, quite frankly, one of
the most adorable things he's ever done—and we shouldn't expect him to
be a bastion of good advice, but his contribution just continues
Alice's attempts to game the situation rather than accept her error.
</p>
<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIPrqGcY0L9MZkk6h6BmGkA2lSik67MSr2WWAGXGtKmyFDKF6Q4MkPGAO_-nGniPo9Mr0fS7qTUr_pKPKE4AUKZe7KH7BHgGnKXw4XjXqrbsUsShWuozQM3f1UJyBed3SodMV-0Y0O070/s2048/Screenshot+%252811046%2529.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIPrqGcY0L9MZkk6h6BmGkA2lSik67MSr2WWAGXGtKmyFDKF6Q4MkPGAO_-nGniPo9Mr0fS7qTUr_pKPKE4AUKZe7KH7BHgGnKXw4XjXqrbsUsShWuozQM3f1UJyBed3SodMV-0Y0O070/s16000/Screenshot+%252811046%2529.png" width="320" /></a>
</div>
There's a sense that things just keep getting worse, and that Alice will
be forced to face the music, and I think that's great; <i>SCI</i>
doesn't often play with tension to this degree, and it's an exciting
tone to contrast the breeziness the show usually maintains. The main
issue is that the climax, where Alice is captured by the Death Cap
and... fed mushrooms because the real issue was that she said she didn't
like how they tasted... feels too disconnected from the path that the
episode was headed down.
</div>
<div>
<p></p>
Misdirection can be a fun comedic tool, but I don't know if the
silliness of how "Mushrumours" closes itself out equates to whatever
meaning it suggested an interest in putting across. The end result,
then, is Alice getting off with her irresponsibility in smearing the
name of mushrooms everywhere scot-free; the punishment doesn't match
with the crime. Ultimately, though, I feel like the goodwill that drives
the rest of the episode helps it land and keeps it engaging in the other
areas where that really counts, and I'll happily allow my issues with
the climax to be superseded by the sweetness of Alice deciding that she
and Oscar can be cousins after all.<br />
<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8mr9Z0qhU67dA648Mta4tLNGCyHZJD4qKIm0IPZ0ovEHP8wXOSbQJbrH5BQQFso7pYVB1GD0sW3ZVX3vx1BwSFAAjy9wr185atHgIPddqiv8uQb6xYo2ST30ZWS71oieu_VNpR1LNk44/s2048/Screenshot+%252811047%2529.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8mr9Z0qhU67dA648Mta4tLNGCyHZJD4qKIm0IPZ0ovEHP8wXOSbQJbrH5BQQFso7pYVB1GD0sW3ZVX3vx1BwSFAAjy9wr185atHgIPddqiv8uQb6xYo2ST30ZWS71oieu_VNpR1LNk44/s16000/Screenshot+%252811047%2529.png" width="320" /></a>
</div>
I feel bad that at the start of the every season of
<i>Summer Camp Island</i> I've covered, I've submitted very lukewarm
responses that seemingly underpin the fact that I deeply adore the show,
so let me say it again: <i>Summer Camp Island</i> is amazing. I
write so extensively about it for no other reason than that I love it,
and that I consider it a valuable enough show within my personal comedic
education that it's worth deconstructing as aggressively as I can. At
the end of the day, too, even if I aired my grievances over both "Sea
Bunnies" and "Mushrumours" aplenty, they hit my brain in that distinct
<i>SCI </i>way that no other show can, and that's something special.
Here's hoping that as the season continues to unravel itself, I'll be
able to demonstrate that enchantment even more.<p>
<b>FINAL GRADES:</b><br /><b>"Sea Bunnies": B-.<br />"Mushrumours": B.</b>
</p>
<p>
<i>Next review: Oscar makes his dream breakfast, and Mallory and Emma
trap a ghost.</i>
</p>
<p>
<i style="font-family: Arimo;">For my review of the last Summer Camp Island review of "Where's the
Confetti," <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/01/summer-camp-island-review-wheres.html">CLICK HERE</a>.</i>
</p>
<p>
<i style="font-family: Arimo;">If you like my stuff, be sure to follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>.</i>
</p>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">
<i>If you think my articles are good, that's probably because of my
editor, Glass! Follow them on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Glass_Shardon" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Glass_Shardon</a>.<br /><br /></i>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">
<i>
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Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-39928008616134221712021-06-28T23:01:00.017-05:002023-10-15T01:11:42.865-05:00Saturday Night Live, Ranked and Reviewed: Season 1<p style="text-align: justify;"></p>
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<p></p>
<div style="background-color: white; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>"Let us begin. Repeat after me. I would like to feed your fingertips
to the wolverines."</b></i></span></span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; font-family: Arimo;">
<br />--
</div>
</div>
</div>
<p>I'm Matt. Few people would know this, and indeed, a part of me hopes that nobody does,
but I used to write reviews of SNL as it was airing in 2015/2016. They're all
bad and have been lost deliberately to the sands of time, but they served to
germinate all of my writing endeavors up to this point, and everything that
I've accomplished with this blog. So it feels fair to pay back my dues a bit.
</p>
<p>
I wasn't actually intending on doing anything like this, but I've been
watching the show from the start for the first time and commenting on episodes
with some buddies I've made working on the "One SNL a Day 2.0" revival
project, and they were so eager to hear my takes that it sort of became a
whole, big thing... eventually so big that they suggested I find some way of
posting them outside of our private groupchat. So I've decided that I'll
compile all of my little write-ups for every season here while adding some
fun, extra things! I don't think I'll write these all the way up to the show's
current season<span face="Roboto, arial, sans-serif" style="color: #4d5156;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">—</span></span>I'm not very interested in writing long-form about the seasons I saw as they
aired, and I'm already writing about some of the modern seasons per the
aforementioned "One SNL a Day 2.0"—but I'm looking forward to covering up to
at least Season 30, at which point I'll have seen every episode of SNL ever
produced.
</p>
<p>
Also note: I'm transplanting my write-ups over here with minimal changes,
except for assisted clarity. They'll get longer and more comprehensive as time
goes on; it's a bit of a slow start, but I think especially by the time we get
to the final stretch of this season, my write-ups start to get pretty sweet.
Hope you enjoy!<br /></p><span><a name='more'></a></span>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
10/11/75: George Carlin / Billy Preston, Janis Iain (S1 E01)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqE7gMujRu0LAYG86M94As_15vu8H93v7c64M2PiytuxPF97LLv6jDhh8rFNPKaiRb77Ig5REdkRjJBarvSPbuMUDikErPLnOB2aUZuHF0E-q28TCK2KudUGBM0x10rKUVe0_5f07xxXM/s2048/Screenshot+%252810606%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqE7gMujRu0LAYG86M94As_15vu8H93v7c64M2PiytuxPF97LLv6jDhh8rFNPKaiRb77Ig5REdkRjJBarvSPbuMUDikErPLnOB2aUZuHF0E-q28TCK2KudUGBM0x10rKUVe0_5f07xxXM/s16000/Screenshot+%252810606%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<div><br /></div>
<div>
It's sort of hard to evaluate the first episode, and I fear that vibe will be
in place until the show begins to resemble what it would eventually become
more. As it stands, it feels a lot like a curio piece contemporarily; all of
the best bits are the ones I've already seen (with the exception of "Trojan
Horse Security," which was pretty great), and the bits that I haven't won't
commit themselves too strongly to my memory. (I was amused by the audience
having, most clearly, the most joyous reaction to the three-blade razor
commercial out of all of the pretaped bits, though.)</div>
<p>
I do think the episode got by alright, even if my interest wavered at points.
At the very least, everything was fascinating enough that it retains you
whether or not it's the most engaging material in the present. I also feel
like, aside from some of the baffling fake ads, enough of the material feels
evergreen instead of dated, which was a pleasant surprise; that "Show Us Your
Guns" bit is as fantastic as it was when it aired.
</p>
<p>
I'm currently very fascinated by how, for the lack of a better word,
<i>unembellished</i> the fake commercials feel, though. I look at a piece like
"New Dad" or the "The Berkeley Collection" and I'm struck by how they don't
really have the reflex to escalate as the prototypical fake commercial does,
with extraneous detail or a broadening of the conceit which I'm far more
smitten with. I guess it's just that reflex instead to play the commercials
deadeningly straight and realistically, though I feel like that also means
that they don't always work comedically; the latter wallpaper sketch is a fun
idea that, uh, is presented? So I'm looking forward to when that switch really
flicks on; maybe "Triple-Trac" technically qualifies but at this point the
humor of it is completely lost. <i>(Penned 5/20/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B. </b></p>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
10/18/75: Paul Simon / Randy Newman, Phoebe Snow, Art Garfunkel, and Jessy
Dixon Singers (S1 E02)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXJnOfSjX3zFcoHQQ8R-jAYS8qTr2TcXXvfoLmkD2ZHN7z_udxck-f6LsKruV8PPNK3AtFjLg-SzDFxdwpDJ2JX-nV_kZIiyoMtVYOFEkWD1SoJdu7Dqx5dO2-iCtYEGKvnM1utmiT1A/s2048/Screenshot+%252810604%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXJnOfSjX3zFcoHQQ8R-jAYS8qTr2TcXXvfoLmkD2ZHN7z_udxck-f6LsKruV8PPNK3AtFjLg-SzDFxdwpDJ2JX-nV_kZIiyoMtVYOFEkWD1SoJdu7Dqx5dO2-iCtYEGKvnM1utmiT1A/s16000/Screenshot+%252810604%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<div><br /></div>
<div>
<div>
Alright, second episode finished, it was maybe a smidge less weird than I
was expecting. Honestly, it was a very front-heavy episode with its
sketch-to-musical-performance balance and I was like "Oh, huh, this isn't
too different!" before it turned into basically a concert. But the music was
pleasant enough background noise, and I enjoyed the sketches and short films
that littered this episode. Paul Simon was a far more game performer than I
was expecting someone to be with their first time on the show with that
basketball short; I look forward to seeing him do the show proper greatly.
However, he was not a good enough actor to make those exchanges with Art any
less awkward.
</div>
<p>
I was also surprised by the almost-complete absence of the cast, especially
only two episodes into the show to push them aside, but I guess it was a
time of experimentation. <i>(Penned 5/20/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B. </b></p>
</div>
<div><h2>10/25/75: Rob Reiner (S1 E03)</h2></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxtuhvh7pv8BelOrCeAbjSVFdEk5GsxWAJDQujlA6Se1tPnj8Gso4yxN1YX8EUcDyP7z4VB-8D6ishwUlCV5aKhh7W2WFb9KNUP-wilO4R1KEs7MG2IRySy7dU-HMS7cjDFc2s9Kdf3bM/s2048/Screenshot+%252810603%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxtuhvh7pv8BelOrCeAbjSVFdEk5GsxWAJDQujlA6Se1tPnj8Gso4yxN1YX8EUcDyP7z4VB-8D6ishwUlCV5aKhh7W2WFb9KNUP-wilO4R1KEs7MG2IRySy7dU-HMS7cjDFc2s9Kdf3bM/s16000/Screenshot+%252810603%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<div><br /></div>
<div>
The "Rob Reiner" episode was undoubtedly my favorite S1 episode yet,
even though I assume that's something I'll keep saying as the show comes more
and more into itself. It had the same experimental vibe as the other two
episodes, but I think to even greater effect; even if there were the
expectedly mixed bits, I appreciated the variety aspect of it all, as well as
the increasing emphasis on bits involving the main cast. I thought the
"Dangerous but Inept," "Square Dance" and "What Gilda Ate" bits were short but
delightful; I wasn't as wowed by the Joe Cocker bit as I was expecting to be
but it's good, committed stuff as well, and a nice reflection of the gritty, seedy
vibe that SNL was going for at the time. The Lockers were a definite highlight
and I loved watching all of the ways that the audience reacted to it (or
struggled to figure out how to react to it). Lastly, that long Albert Brooks
piece was pretty appreciable to me, perhaps not as lean as it could afford to
be but I liked the balance of deadening realism and absurdity that was driving
it, something that Brooks is proving himself to be delightfully capable of
with these shorts. <i>(Penned 5/20/21)</i>
</div>
<p><b>GRADE: A-</b> </p>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
11/08/75: Candice Bergen / Esther Phillips (S1 E04)
</h2>
<p></p>
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</div>
<br />
<div>
Alright, hmm, I feel like I was maybe a bit underwhelmed. I think the quality
is about what I expected given the other three, though there were more things
that didn't click with me and more things that I found generally off-putting
in their execution. I do agree with the sentiment that this is probably the
closest of these shows that we've gotten to getting into the traditional SNL
formula, but that made it feel like it was more hovering at an in-between
point, not quite as rickety as the experimental first three episodes but not
as well-oiled as the show's structure would eventually become; I can hardly
strike the show for trying to figure out what it is, though. The sketches
themselves were more of a determining factor for me here. "Land Shark" was
fantastic, and having only seen one cycle of the shark attack in the past, I
loved seeing the premise build and escalate, and it's probably my favorite
live sketch from the show that I've seen thus far. I also quite liked Chevy's
botched Hamlet speech (before it turned into... a Polaroid commercial), Andy
Kaufman, the dialogue between Candice and Gilda, and the "Pong" sketch, which
was very low-key but I enjoyed the experimental approach.
</div>
<div><br /></div>
<div>
With that being said, you also get stuff like that dreadful homophobic
commercial, and it's perhaps divisive to say, but I really did <i>not</i> get
the appeal of Michael O'Donoghue threatening violence against a woman and that
seemingly being the only punchline to the bit. Other bits were fine on-paper
but didn't really capture my interest strongly, with more enjoyable outs than
set-ups. <i>(Penned 5/21/11)</i>
</div>
<p></p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p></p>
<h2>11/15/75: Robert Klein / ABBA, Loudon Wainwright (S1 E05)</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUNhqzXBT8keD_kSapSARN0A9iiNMZ0cm3NTRU6vL11xYJKyuoYQjou7vMTU69w6cGGfSK7GH2bMh0OjoE5xlqQCcQNNAGl3S1CLlX65xqmHZonN9SU6b7NbgL0spo7dqLvu8d04GEG-Q/s2048/Screenshot+%252810600%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUNhqzXBT8keD_kSapSARN0A9iiNMZ0cm3NTRU6vL11xYJKyuoYQjou7vMTU69w6cGGfSK7GH2bMh0OjoE5xlqQCcQNNAGl3S1CLlX65xqmHZonN9SU6b7NbgL0spo7dqLvu8d04GEG-Q/s16000/Screenshot+%252810600%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<br />Despite going back and forth on my thoughts of it in some sections, I
actually found Klein's episode to be a fairly enjoyable effort far in terms of
honing in on some conventionality. I think I was perhaps more mixed on the
sketches than with the Bergen ep, but I felt more responsive to them, whether in
good or bad ways, than strictly ambivalent, which at least made it a better
watch. Klein's presence as a host was weird, and I alternated between enjoying
what he did ("I Can't Stop My Leg" won me over) and finding him to be a strange,
perhaps-desperate presence; apparently he was intending on flashing the audience
during the goodnights, which surprised me because all of his stand-up material
felt squeaky-clean and kind of dopey. No huge standout sketches this time,
though nothing flagrantly offensive either; "Minute Mystery" was probably my
favorite, though I also liked the Greg Allman blackout and was surprised by how
much I enjoyed both this episode's Land of Gorch piece and the Emily Litella
debut. ABBA was the highlight for me, and the conceptual slant of their
performances was a riot.
<i>(NOTE: it's since been brought to my attention that the ABBA performance was
driven, in large part, by Mr. Mike edgelord spite, which taints my enjoyment
of it quite a bit, though I do appreciate the idea of a novel framework for
SNL's musical performances, an idea we've rarely come back to.) (Penned
5/21/21)</i>
<div>
<p>
<b>GRADE: B.</b>
</p>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">11/22/75: Lily Tomlin (S1 E06)</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSFhocm71QvXimG-N-L6BTg5ZipZZmh84SZK9cFuS7l1oBw2YKapGd8OJr_iLJn8PwfvFAfadz1v_8JhGcdrEQL-HkjPv51mwD6AV5nJh1HaR6VD78FdxVN5LKcAcGDS4KJ3ldaM_gI0E/s2048/Screenshot+%252810599%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSFhocm71QvXimG-N-L6BTg5ZipZZmh84SZK9cFuS7l1oBw2YKapGd8OJr_iLJn8PwfvFAfadz1v_8JhGcdrEQL-HkjPv51mwD6AV5nJh1HaR6VD78FdxVN5LKcAcGDS4KJ3ldaM_gI0E/s16000/Screenshot+%252810599%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
Hmm, Lily Tomlin... another S1 episode that's hard to figure. Lily was a
fantastic host, and the sort that really gives things a nice jolt of energy,
coming across as fully, lovingly devoted to the show and even adorably
suggesting that she was joining the cast... but she almost felt too good for
this current iteration of SNL. More than anything else, as I saw the show
going through its continued efforts to figure out what it is, I was
anticipating Lily's future hosting gigs more than the one I was currently
watching. Literally the only piece that struck a chord with me tonight,
strangely enough, was the "Land of Gorch" segment, which I found to be
strangely sweet and poignant in a distinctly refreshing way, again assisted
by how naturally adorable and committed Lily is. Gave me a nice, goofy
smile.
</p>
<p>
Outside of that, this was sub-standard fare to me. Jaws didn't need to recur
so quickly, and even though the changes are novel enough that they should
work, it didn't. The Beethoven bit would've probably hit me more if I knew
what the sketches were referencing more vividly, though I concede that's a
me problem—they were cute. Everything else just sorta washed over me: the
sketch where the joke is seemingly that Chevy stumbles a lot and is maybe
racist, a sketch that just flips gender roles (maybe that was more cutting
in the '70s?), a sketch where Lily sings and I faded out before I caught the
premise. I was hoping for a little more here.
</p>
<p></p>
<p>
Oh, and the goodnights were delightful. Forgot about that somehow. <i>(Penned 5/22/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>FINAL GRADE: B.</b></p>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
12/13/75: Richard Pryor / Gil Scott-Heron (S1 E07)
</h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXNxOyskR6AR63_HRexUguWrSXdkxjd6X3uZ_87ZVyyBNCPJBwCcg0fWkG_0oxJyBO6PeXqAYxGBzonsQBQ31rfwJ9F5oVAjrMbKFrvF3fyoRQL6LOjOfXoFmJunSZpNHNEIJUzM8rdxQ/s2048/Screenshot+%252810598%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXNxOyskR6AR63_HRexUguWrSXdkxjd6X3uZ_87ZVyyBNCPJBwCcg0fWkG_0oxJyBO6PeXqAYxGBzonsQBQ31rfwJ9F5oVAjrMbKFrvF3fyoRQL6LOjOfXoFmJunSZpNHNEIJUzM8rdxQ/s16000/Screenshot+%252810598%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<br />
<div>
<div>
Alright, so surprise surprise, the Richard Pryor episode lived up to both
expectations and hype! It might've also benefitted from the fact that my
expectations were still set pretty low against what the season has been
thus far, but it succeeded at the two main things that I think a good S1
episode up to this point can aim for: the good sketches are good, and the
interesting sketches/moments are interesting. Obviously, "Word
Association" is legendary and the monologue is aces, and the fact that its
second-gear material was still absolutely golden (the family dinner
sketch, "White Like Me," the military sketch, the Exorcist) means that
there's no shortage of things to appreciate, and beyond just being
satiated by a good sketch for the night, I was actively looking forward to
whatever could come next.
</div>
<div><br /></div>
<div>
When the episode got more experimental, too, I was there for it; Shelley
Pryor's monologue was weird as hell but enjoyable all the same, and even
the Albert Brooks film I found strangely compelling, regardless of the
fact that it was a clearly, somewhat spiteful piece. My controversial
opinions might be that the police line-up sketches didn't fully work for
me, and I have a lot of reservations about the Samurai sketches as an
Asian person in 2021 (I get it, they're goofy, but I didn't really find it
funny either way and it's weird that an episode so intent on dissecting
race would feature a sketch taking the piss out of the exoticism of a
different race). Through it all, Pryor was the expectedly wonderful host
who brought life to every scene he was a part of, both in pieces clearly
written for his voice and pieces clearly spotlighting those around him.
Add in some lively musical numbers and we've got the first fully solid
episode of the season! <i>(Penned 5/23/21)</i>
</div>
</div>
<p>
<b>FINAL GRADE: A.</b>
</p>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
12/20/75: Candice Bergen / Martha Reeves, The Stylistics (S1 E08)
</h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjPslUPJsEeJGKjl_X1znR3SuJ-S32mwkTz4d7BzFECUuqyKl3pLLBb4k2tbErLd1nLagS6I2PFgv9AF9KkCIFar1xW7laxiEa-IfpAP-bKo9WbvaruV160XGPNqhjdeOSHKCjI6rY4Wk/s2048/Screenshot+%252810597%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjPslUPJsEeJGKjl_X1znR3SuJ-S32mwkTz4d7BzFECUuqyKl3pLLBb4k2tbErLd1nLagS6I2PFgv9AF9KkCIFar1xW7laxiEa-IfpAP-bKo9WbvaruV160XGPNqhjdeOSHKCjI6rY4Wk/s16000/Screenshot+%252810597%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p>
Alright, Candice Bergen #2! While I don't think that this episode reached
the (modest, for the most part) heights of my absolute favorite S1 episodes,
this was by far the most digestible as a whole. There's a surprising amount
of wholesomeness to the premises for the most part that helps things
maintain a jolly, cheerful vibe that you can never be too mad about; even
stuff that didn't hit too hard for me, like the ice rink home video or the
Gary Weis film at the end added handsomely to the overall atmosphere. The
laundromat scene between Gilda and Belushi was, far and away, the best
proper sketch of the episode, a touching and minimalistic slice-of-life
piece carried out masterfully by two endearing performers, and the elf
sketch comes in at a respectable second place; iffy analogy notwithstanding,
it was a sweet piece executed with an unexpected degree of sincerity.
Candice receded into the show as most S1 hosts do, but she was always pretty
fun when she showed up, helping the "Land of Gorch" piece stick the landing
and joining in on the classic "Winter Wonderland" musical number. All in
all, this was certainly an episode more fun than funny, but that's exactly
what they were aiming for. <i>(Penned 5/23/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<b>1/10/76: Elliott Gould / Anne Murray (S1 E09)</b>
</h2>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div>
<br />
</div>
<div>
Elliott Gould's inaugural hosting gig was an interesting episode to watch
for an interesting reason: I have some degree of recency bias with the
content of a lot of the sketches, having listened to the That Week podcast
episode back in January when I had no plans of really undertaking a grand
watchthough. That's had some pros and cons with my viewing experience.
</div>
<p>
On one hand, the element of surprise was lost. Arguably the crown jewel of
the episode, the meta shift in the "Killer Bees" sketch, didn't do a ton for
me. It feels like the sort of sketch that's too light on extra detail to
really work once you already know what the gist of the sketch will be, and
while I found it very easy to appreciate, it played out too slowly to be
gratifying when I knew everything that would be happening for the most part.
(John's speech and Lorne slapping Dave Wilson around got me, though.)
Meanwhile, the Godfather bit didn't do much for me, and while I assume it's
partially hurt by not knowing the source material, it also just felt
unfocused with the addition of Larraine's Valley Girl character, like the
sketch refused to properly land on a specific target.
</p>
<p>
The simplest material gratified me the most, and I found it the most
timeless: the fantastic, morbid string quartet opening, that anarchic
demolitionist sketch, and of course New Shimmer. The Gilda sub-plot was a
cute addition to the episode, though unassisted by Elliott's role seeming
more deflective of Gilda than reciprocating. I found him to be a serviceable
host, though the most contained and unassuming one yet with his more low-key
energy throughout the night; I'm interested in seeing the sort of material
he gets to work with as the show strengthens. <i>(Penned 5/24/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>FINAL GRADE: B+.</b></p>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
1/17/76: Buck Henry / Bill Withers, Toni Basil (S1 E10)
</h2>
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</div>
<p>
Alright, just wrapped up the Buck Henry episode and I think it might be my
favorite thus far; while Pryor's episode had higher highs, this one felt the
most consistent, like it took all of the aspects of the show established up
to this point and managed to fine-tune all of the kinks into something
completely solid. Buck Henry was an interesting host, and I like how the
show was very upfront about the oddity of him being there, but I can see why
he's come back so many times; he fit into the show's process very well, and
even if he wasn't ever given particularly challenging material he was a game
and generous performer.
</p>
<p>
Something I found refreshing was that the night tried at more long sketches
than usual; both the Ford and Citizen Kane pieces felt like small-scale
epics. The former of the two was stronger and the best use of Chevy's Ford
yet, undoubtedly because it plugged him into a more involved scenario that
enabled fun interplay with Buck, Garrett, and John, feeding into those fun
chaos vibes that this season seems to enjoy. The Citizen Kane piece,
meanwhile, took a while for me to enjoy because I don't know the source
material all that well, but I loved the gag of Dan repeatedly firing into
the streets, and the ending to that slow, meticulous build was so stupid
that it brought me joy. This also felt like the first episode where the
blackouts really punched or didn't leave anything to be desired, and their
spread across the episode gave the show a nice flow as it alternated between
longer and shorter pieces.
</p>
<p>
Now I'll just try to fill in the rest of the blanks. This Samurai sketch
definitely worked for me more than the last one because it felt like there
was a more legitimate game than just John fucking around a limply-written
script; the Asian blabber is still iffy but his physicality is a lot of fun
and I enjoyed all of the little flourishes (his attempted seppuku,
delicately cutting the sandwich). O'Donoghue finally contributed something I
fully enjoyed; I was familiar with the needle bit but had never seen it, so I
was relieved that it was more dark and absurd than aimlessly edgy. Last but
not least, the filmed bit with Buck trying to find the funniest person in
Irving was perhaps anticlimactic, but I found it be a charming, sincere
piece regardless. Great episode! <i>(Penned 5/24/21)</i>
</p>
<p>
<b>GRADE: A.</b>
</p>
<p></p>
<h2>1/24/76: Peter Cook & Dudley Moore / Neil Sedaka (S1 E11)</h2>
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</div>
<br />
<div>
Just watched the Peter Cook and Dudley Moore-hosted episode and hmmm, I feel
like I'm a bit disappointed by it. The two made good hosts, and I enjoyed a
lot of the material that they performed (especially the monologue and "Frog
& Peach" sketch), but this episode felt sort of like it was undoing a
lot of the progress that the past few episodes have made with host
integration into the show; for the most part, Cook and Moore felt isolated
from the show, emerging to perform parts from their act and only
occasionally gelling with the cast. When they entered into the formula more,
the night generally succeeded; I thought the prison musical sketch had nice
beats to it although it was very long, and the elevator sketch was charming.
But I wanted to see the sort of energy that the goodnights had, with Moore,
Cook, Chevy and John playfully smearing each other's face with a cream pie;
it felt like a hint of what could've been, rather than the show alternating
between their heavily fine-tuned deadpan and SNL's looseness.
</div>
<p>
As a sidenote: I'm amused that Lorne and O'Donoghue had such massive hate
boners for ABBA and then invite the dorkiest crooner ever onto the show lol
<i>(Penned 5/25/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: B.</b></p>
<p></p>
<h2>1/31/76: Dick Cavett / Jimmy Cliff (S1 E12)</h2>
<p></p>
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</div>
<br />I just finished the Dick Cavett episode, and I... have no idea how much
I can really say about that one. Like last episode with Peter Cook and Dudley
Moore, there wasn't a huge sense of the host really being inserted into the
show so much as just existing within it to some capacity, but unlike Cook and
Moore, Cavett also never did anything but be himself, and even then he feels
uncomfortable in his own skin which tends to read far too much as pitiful
rather than endearing. The fact that the episode was so comprised of sketches
where the actors talked directly to the camera basked the night with a sense
of homogeneity which it couldn't recover from. Only one sketch felt
particularly functional, the sketch where Chevy keeps accidentally shooting
stuff, but even that one felt kind of like a sketch that on any other night
would amicably drift to the bottom. It's at least kinda nice to know that the
flame SNL's air rundown issues burns eternal, I suppose.<br />
<p></p>
<p>
Strangely enough, the best bits of the night were probably the cold open,
with Garrett torturing an ailing Chevy with a voodoo doll, or the
fan-submitted apple film, which was incredibly charming and fit the tone of
the show surprisingly well. <i>(Penned 5/27/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">2/14/76: Peter Boyle / Al Jarreau (S1 E13)</h2>
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</div>
<br />
<div>
<div>
With Peter Boyle, I've crossed another S1 episode off my list! It's a bit
of a curious episode, lacking in any massive winners that would make the
history books or anything of that variety, but it's an episode of great
consistency, which in this season I far prefer. Although Peter is cast
into almost entirely straight man roles, he gamely imbues all of them with
a lot of life and character that makes him feel indispensable from the
scenes—the greatest attribute of a character actor hosting the show. The
"Janitor in a Fridge" sketch is probably the best of the episode in that
regard, a piece that swings for the fences with a solid premise but which
he plays with the perfect mix of pity and ignorance. (As stereotypical as
it was, I also really enjoyed the druggie sketch, largely indebted to him
serving as a perfect, guileless foil to Aykroyd's characterization.)
</div>
</div>
<p></p>
<p>
The occasions where he's able to really cut loose are equally successful,
with the "Bees vs. WASPs" piece and "Dueling Brandos" being especially
enjoyable and magnetic despite the excessively one-note nature of their
conceits. With the exception of a handful of sketches that scream S1 (the
Nixon monkey mask thing, Gary Weiss' "pledge of allegiance" pretape which I
have nary a shot of understanding), this was an episode where I really felt
like I was in on the joke, approaching the show not just as some vestige of
the past but as a source of legitimate entertainment, and that was a joyous
feeling to feel. Pushing Pryor's episode of anomalies aside, I'd say this
was second to Buck Henry's as the most successful of the season thus far.
<i>(Penned 5/27/21)</i>
</p>
<p>
<b>GRADE: A-.</b>
</p>
<p></p>
<h2>2/21/76: Desi Arnaz & Desi Arnaz, Jr. (S1 E14)</h2>
<p></p>
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</div>
<br />
<div>
Watched the Desi Arnaz episode and I was very charmed! It's interesting to
see how the show handled its first real "legacy act" sort of host, and that
proposition becomes all the more exciting when it becomes clear the degree
that Desi enthusiastically worked himself into the process of the show. It's
an intensely odd combination, a legendary, aging sitcom star serving as the
nucleus of an intensely counterculture sketch show with a nihilistic
perspective, but somehow it works. Desi gamely bats around the premises he's
presented with, sillier than SNL's usual fare but clearly written from a
place of affection for the guy, and whereas there's not any home run
sketches here (the obligatory <i>I Love Lucy</i> sketch is probably the closest we
get, but it's not quite there), the enthusiasm that permeates the whole
episode makes it feel incredibly warm and joyous in a way that SNL rarely
does, and not in any way to its detriment. (Real Candice Bergen Christmas
episode vibes, in my opinion.)
</div>
<p></p>
<p>
Bits like Desi reciting Jabberwocky, or sticking cigars into Belushi's
orifices aren't particularly daring, but he makes them work, always playing
it safe but keen to go along with the jokes (consider that legendary look he
gives at the end of the monologue as if his eyes are about to explode out of
his face). Unsurprisingly, he came to life most when he was in his element
through the episode's fantastic, lively musical numbers, ending everything
with a conga line though 8H and some ferocious drum-slapping that filled me
with fear for his health but ultimately joy. A real class act, that guy.<i> (Penned 5/29/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: A-.</b></p>
<h2>2/28/76: Jill Clayburgh / Leon Redbone, The Idlers (S1 E15)</h2>
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</div>
<br />
<div>
Oh, oops, I didn't write a former review of this episode at the time, or
indeed, much of anything about it! But I can say this: it's an episode
that's a bit difficult for me to assess, to be honest. I can see the appeal
but most of it just didn't really connect with me, especially the mini-epic
up top which had some elements to it that just sorta put me off (violence
towards a guileless woman from John again, Gilda's role). The cold open and
"Warthogs" were pieces I enjoyed, though, and I thought the night's finest
moment was Jill's musical number with The Idlers—indelibly charming.
</div>
<p><b>GRADE: B-.</b></p>
<h2>3/13/76: Anthony Perkins / Betty Carter (S1 E16)</h2>
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</div>
<br />
<div>
Alright, hmm, the Anthony Perkins episode was sort of odd. I feel like
there's a lot of stuff in it that I want to like, but simultaneously not a
ton gets over me. The unequivocal good was that Perkins was a great host,
and the material was crafted wonderfully to his specific cadence; if
anything, the monologue might be my favorite piece of the night, a simple
bit of writing that he nails perfectly. But the concepts didn't tend to
elevate to his level, I feel. I'm not familiar enough with Norman Bates for
the motel management ad sketch to fully land, though he anchored it well
unsurprisingly and I enjoyed the repeated "hack her to death with a kitchen
knife" gag. Nothing else felt fully-formed or fully-satisfying, though; once
again, Sherry has been shoved into a random non sequitur premise that falls
flat on its face, the dominatrix sketch feels like it's hovering next to
excellence but its performances never truly found a rhythm, and I can't tell
if the concluding Aykroyd sketch fell completely apart or if I just didn't
understand what it was going for at all. On the plus side, though, the
Muppets ended up being my favorite part of the night; I'm enjoying the angle
of them gasping for airtime and enjoy all of the meta/subtextual gags
pertaining to their relationship to SNL. Scred interrupting that one sketch
was probably my biggest laugh out of the night.
</div>
<p>
Oh, also: Gilda slow-dancing with Scred during the goodnights. I love her so
much. <i>(Penned 6/03/21)</i>
</p>
<p>
<b>GRADE: B-.</b>
</p>
<h2>4/17/76: Ron Nessen / Patti Smith Group (S1 E17)</h2>
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</div>
<br />
<div>
<div>
Alright, so the Ron Nessen episode was fairly interesting. I didn't really
get the strange, contemptuous nature of the episode as I was watching it
because at this point I sort of expect a degree of counterculture
perverseness from Season 1, but it definitely registers as a bit stunning
now, in retrospect, the sort of material that they gleefully caked around
Ron. Whenever he was woven into the show, it was as if the show was
running through its obligations; Nessen is generally uncharismatic, every
role of his written politely but deadeningly. (He's fortunate to have
stilted Ford clips slammed in at weird spots to make him look more
organic.) There is a bit of a wincing factor in how willingly he let the
show make him look like a fool for signing up, though, that same brand of
provocation that feels equal parts fun and sour (see: ABBA).
</div>
</div>
<p></p>
<p>
Fortunately, a lot of the bits work well in isolation: the Bass-o-matic is
an Aykroyd classic, and the Supreme Court sketch is a fun premise that was
solidly-executed, if perhaps less scathing now than it would've been at the
time. (I recall it's on the <i>RollingStone's</i> top 50 sketch list, which
piqued my interest even if their SNL lists were immensely questionable.) The
Flucker's sketch was good fun, even if the ending seemed like too easy of an
out for what it was building up to, but as with the douche sketch, it was
sold off of its delivery. (Apparently that "Tomorrow" sketch was very good
but I couldn't get a bead on it until Garrett walked out in that goddamn
peanut costume.)
</p>
<p>
Contextually, though, it was a morbid and sordid evening, pointed directly
at Ron Nessen for allowing himself to enter the lion's den. We start the
night with four dead bodies and go on to slam military recruitment, hang out
near a bunch of men's urinals, and talk to a garbage man about finding
disembodied limbs. (I did quite like the Weis film, admittedly.) I can't
tell if I liked it or not, but I bet all the writers were high-fiving each
other until Tuesday.
</p>
<p></p>
<p>
Oh, Patti Smith was pretty cool, though. Weird anti-synergy as usual with
this episode. And Billy Crystal, who I managed to mercifully repress
throughout the rest of my write-up, fucking sucked and might be the most
damning inclusion to this episode of all. <i>(Penned 6/04/21)</i>
</p>
<p></p>
<h2>4/24/76: Raquel Welch / Phoebe Snow, John Sebastian (S1 E18)</h2>
<p></p>
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</div>
<br />It's been documented of this episode that whenever Raquel Welch would
pitch sketches, the writers would deflect them and tell her to work on her
song. So using that as a jumpin-off point... yeah, this episode isn't
<i>super </i>bad but it fully has those vibes. Raquel is a game host who wants
to go with the punches very clearly, but she looks visibly like she was kept
at arm's reach from the creative process, working through ambivalently-written
material that capitalizes on her eye-candiness in a way that feels more
leering than ego-feeding (an inverse J-Lo, basically). She's not the greatest
performer but I liked her energy, which allowed some fun to come out of the
cracks of their material; her sign-language Oscar acceptance speech in the
Cuckoo's Nest sketch, which I was otherwise not a very big fan of (somehow
both edgy and vaguely lame, which about sums up most of Mike's writing for
me), was a nice moment that showed how much she could theoretically will into
working for the episode if it afforded her more benefit of the doubt than
strutting her out in scanty outfits. The best bits were Aykroyd pitching the
metric alphabet, because every episode can afford a minute or two of
unfiltered Aykroyd insanity, and Lorne's classic pitch to the Beatles.
<i>(Penned 6/06/21)</i>
<p></p>
<p>
<b>GRADE: B-.</b>
</p>
<h2>5/08/76: Madeline Kahn / Carly Simon (S1 E19)</h2>
<p></p>
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</div>
<br />
<div>
Alright, so the Madeline Kahn episode. While I don't think this episode
absolutely wowed me as a whole—Buck Henry #1 remains the standard I have for
a strong episode of the show at this point—what it lacked in consistency, it
made up for in dedication. There's a nice spread of ideas across this
episode, and while not all of them work for me, I appreciate the
intentionality across the board and Madeline had a far more distinctive
voice than I would've imagined going into the show. It's awesome, too, that
the show seemed to actively take note of that and give Madeline material
that enabled her to shine and flex her talents, culminating in that
legendary Frankenstein/"I Feel Pretty" musical number at the heart of this
episode which has gotta be one of my favorite moments out of the season.
Watching Madeline dance and convulse about, owning the stage was the moment
that I realized that she's one of those rare hosts that's on the exact same
wavelength as the show; more than the show writing to her, she meets the
show half-way.
</div>
<p></p>
<p>
The "Slumber Party" sketch was another clear highlight for me, taking an
incredibly simple premise but imbuing it with such a startlingly sincere
charm that restrained it from the risk of hackiness. It was just an
incredibly charming slice-of-life scene, with all the women of the cast
bringing their A-game and proving themselves to be the most secretly skilled
players in the season. And lastly, although the "I Will Follow Him" sketch
was another entry into this season's catalogue of suddenly-musical sketches,
I think it was their best variation of that idea, indebted to the
finely-calibrated performances of John and Madeline, turning it into a
proper show-stopper instead of a head-scratcher. <i>(Penned 6/07/21)</i>
</p>
<p>
<b>GRADE: A-.</b>
</p>
<h2>5/15/76: Dyan Cannon / Carly Simon (S1 E20)</h2>
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</div>
<div><br /></div>
<div>
This was... an okay episode, I suppose, though that's perhaps damning praise
for an S1 episode. It's neither compellingly good nor uniquely frustrating;
it entered and exited my body like a ghost with places to be. Dyan was an
okay host, but not one that really plugged into the show well for one reason
or another; she was dedicated but giggly in a mix of so-so material that
never took advantage of any unique skills that she may or may not have. She
charmed the most across the episode's uniquely silly runner—with the male
cast presenting themselves to her as her dream man despite mishearing her
specific vision of "a man on a white horse," only to culminate in Chevy
riding into the studio shirtless on said white horse during goodnights (the
'70s, fucking hell man)—but even there she amiably laughed her way through
it all without giving any more of a pulse on what she could specifically
bring the show. She can sing as the "Hell's Angels" sketch revealed, I
suppose, though even there she was displaced from the chaos as everyone
around her willed the scene (not good so much as... insane) into working.
</div>
<p></p>
<p>
One thing here worked unequivocally for me. The hearing test sketch, cruelly
juxtaposing an ear exam with an armed robbery, was the perfect mix of
absurdity and darkness that this season tends to excel at, and if it's
nothing too new to see from the season, it was nimbly conceived and
performed. Everything else was at least fully-formed, but uninvigorating:
the dead delivery boy sketch ends in a fun, smart place, but takes way too
long to get there. Chevy's performance in the funeral speech sketch is a
touch too annoying, even if by design. Even Dan's crazy spokesperson sketch
for the week, hocking celebrity bathwater (forever prescient), is merely
okay. Fortunately, Leon Russell's musical performances gave things an
awesome jolt of energy to keep the operation afloat.
</p>
<p>
Notably, Russell's second performance was also the first time John's Joe
Cocker fully worked for me, and damn did I love it there. Everyone just
stopping their music and watching him struggle in feigned confusion, before
coming back in and slamming the song shut... amazing moment.
<i>(Penned 6/08/21)</i>
</p>
<p><b>GRADE: C+.</b></p>
<h2>5/22/76: Buck Henry / Gordon Lightfoot (S1 E21)</h2>
<p></p>
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</div>
<br />
<div>
Alright, so Buck Henry #2 felt like SNL at its most confident up to this
point, but simultaneously at its most streamlined point of operation. We've
finally hit one of the great staples of SNL: an episode comprised far too
heavily of recurring material! None of it is too bad, mind you, but the mix
ranges from questionable (Lorne continuing his Beatles check bit, now with a
stumblier performance than ever), to dull (Baba Wawa), to passable but
obligatory (Samurai Tailor). None of the recurring bits are huge drop-offs
from their predecessors, but they also don't push the root concepts any
further, shaping the night into an amiable, crowd-pleasing experience, but
not one that speaks to a viewer who's keen on seeing the show take chances
and try at new things, especially with SNL knowing very well that Buck Henry
is the sort of host you can rely on to try different things out.
</div>
<p></p>
<p>
True to that sentiment, too, the best the episode had to offer were the
pieces that Buck could really key into. The monologue was amazing,
undoubtedly my favorite from the past season and perhaps one of my favorites
of all time now, deprecating on the show's jokeful disdain for its host with
an insanely ambitious scope that really epitomizes the joy of SNL being a
live show. Buck soared, too, in the "Talk Back" sketch, a delightfully
simplistic idea that risks being questionable but which he sells perfectly;
it's one of those moments that demonstrates the level of confidence the show
has in its host that he can carry something like this, which tries at the
audience's patience, entirely on his own. Even the Gary Weiss film, one of
the show's diciest spots, was something that he willed into working, playing
off of customers in a toilet seat specialty store with fantastic deadpan.
</p>
<p>
Frustratingly, I do want to call out that specific moment in the otherwise
wonderful crowd audition sketch where Garrett almost gets lynched, because
Jesus fucking Christ, that's gotta be one of the most disgusting things I've
seen from this show, and I hate that something that awful had to come into
something that was so winningly silly. It reeks of that S1 desperation to
underpin something fun with darkness, but it really came out on the absolute
wrong side and just felt embarrassing for the show and degrading for
Garrett, too good of a sport for this season to deserve. Fortunately,
though, Garrett does get the shining moment of the night as far as cast-led
material is concerned, singing a legitimately beautiful rendition of "An Die
Musik" while text scrolls by saying that the show was compromised into
including it. That's the way to use him, and that's the sort of material he
deserves to do. <i>(Penned 6/08/21)</i>
</p>
<p>
<b>GRADE: B+.</b>
</p>
<p></p>
<h2>5/29/76: Elliott Gould / Leon Redbone (S1 E22)</h2>
<p></p>
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</div>
<br />Okay, so the Elliott Gould season finale is... a bit of an odd episode.
I don't think that it's too bad, and I had my fun with it in the moment, but
as it went on, it increasingly left me with little to really say about it. As
with the preceding Buck episode, there was a breeziness to it, though if it
didn't exploit recurring material, its sketches all played off of the
pre-established strengths everyone has in their wheelhouse, causing a lot of
the premises to gloss over me. There were big autopilot vibes, whether that
meant sketches that rested entirely on the charisma of its performers (Chevy's
foreign poker player sketch, the Honeymooners spoof) or rehashing basic
concepts without thoughtful development (the "National Uvula Assocation" was
just a retake of the pancreas variant from one of the first episodes, and even
Dan's spokesperson sketch felt too obvious, fun as it was). Further
compounding upon those feelings is the general scarcity of material, causing
the back-half of the episode to almost entirely fall apart, slamming two
musical performances in between a recycled pretape for the last ten minutes of
the show. Also, just wanna say: Leon Redbone does <i>not</i> make finale
musical guest material. I was literally falling asleep at a certain point,
lol.<br />
<p></p>
<p>
The night was generally salvaged by that excellent Star Trek in the middle,
which feels like the one sketch everyone devoted the week to. The surprise
factor of the conceit was unfortunately lost because I at least vaguely knew
what the sketch was about, but the performances made it work in spite of
that: John and Chevy were locked in and delivering two of their best
performances of the season, and Elliott (a good host the show forgot how to
really implement) entered the scene with just the right air of nonchalant
formality before commencing destruction of the set. Considering my only
other experience with a sketch this long was that meandering and vaguely
racist "Guidance Counselor" sketch from the Jill Clayburgh episode, it was
cool to see such a long, epic-feeling sketch that actually popped. That's
more than can be said about anything else in this episode, though.
<i>(Penned 6/09/21)</i>
</p>
<p>
<b>GRADE: B-.</b>
</p>
<p></p>
<h2>7/24/76: Louise Lasser / Preservation Hall Jazz Band (S1 E22)</h2>
<p></p>
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</div>
<br />
<div>
Alright so Louise Lasser is... an episode, huh? I feel like it's a
theoretically easy episode to shit on—Louise is nervous and neurotic, often
at odds with the show in her own hosting gig and resting atop proceedings
like oil over water—but it feels like too delicate a situation to take that
sort of perspective on, at least for me. It's not the standard sort of
"disaster" episode of SNL with a host barreling in, chomping the show
through their ego, and shitting out a 90-minute turd afterwards. Louise
feels like... a broken soul kept at odds with an episode that wants to
exploit her notoriety without accommodating for her in any friendly way (if
what she's said about the environment of the writers room that week means
anything). She's set up to fail, and the show allows her to fail, making
things feel more grim than anything else.
</div>
<p></p>
<p>
It doesn't help that everything she appeared in this episode was... hard to
really get a bead on. Her performance was like Andy Kaufman if Andy Kaufman
was sincere; the fiction cuts too close to the reality for it to feel
anything but alienating. That dog bit was weird as hell, but I feel like it
could absolutely work, even with a performance like Louise's, if the person
leading the piece didn't feel trapped by the show. With that being said, I did find her concluding monologue to the episode utterly
fascinating; it sure didn't feel like SNL, but it felt startling to see her
speak on her issues and exploitation so earnestly.
</p>
<p>
As for the sketches themselves... I actually liked how much the episode
keyed into a weird vibe, even if Louise makes it feel difficult to swallow.
The aforementioned dog bit and even the short film could work, I think,
under a different host. (I liked the low-key vibe of the latter, I think.
Sort of.) Meanwhile, even if its placement in the show was a choice, the
Swedish movie sketch was quite delightful. And then "Girl Talk" has a nice,
slice-of-life edge to it, too; like the "Sleepover" sketch from Madeline
Kahn's episode, there was a lot of room for hacky jokes, but it feels so
grounded in reality, so thoughtfully-written, that it gets over for me.
Everything else was pretty amicable. Weird, but a fascinating sort of weird
that I can't get angry at.
</p>
<p>
Basically, I think this could’ve been a thoughtful, uniquely-good episode if
Louise didn’t cast a shadow over proceedings, but even so, I can’t be mad at
her. This evening just feels like a product of ill circumstance.
<i>(Penned 6/10/21)</i>
</p>
<p>
<b>GRADE: C.</b>
</p>
<h2>7/31/76: Kris Kristofferson / Rita Coolidge (S1 E23)</h2>
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</div>
<p>
Okay, so Kris Kristofferson... that was just, like, the worst kind of
episode. Most obviously, Kris is about as out of it as a host can be without
it threatening to break the show; he just lousily traipses through all of
his material which, by the way, is <i>plentiful</i> in this episode. He's
not hidden away strategically like a lot of weaker hosts tend to be this
season. Kris headlines a lot of sketches here, suggesting a level of
confidence that he'd be able to helm it which proved itself to be horribly
unfounded. But here's the thing, too: I have no idea, even if Kris was in
the finest form he could've been in, that he could pull off this episode
anyway. He doesn't have the tight, straight man sense a host needs to play
off Futaba, or the low-key energy to maintain a slice-of-life piece like the
gynecologist sketch, or the ability to play something perfectly straight
like in "Waiting for Pardo." Kris is a disheveled man by design who is just
more disheveled than usual—this night is ill-fitting of him in all
hypothetical scenarios. The only time he didn't detonate a scene was in
"Police State," and his entire role there is being shot dead and laying on
the ground for 30 seconds.
</p>
<div>
<p>
The night only worked whenever Kris was minimally involved, whatever those
scarce pockets were. The aforementioned "Police State" sketch was the best
of the night, taking a dark premise and playing it out to maximum
absurdity without coming at the detriment of its bite. ("Stop or I'll
shoot!" was one of the hardest laughs the show's gotten from me at this
point. I could've done without the weird ending dialogue about them opting
to kill specific minorities though, which was aggressively forced
edge—Franken, I'm guessing?) Larraine's character piece as Sherry was also
pretty solid, and as with "Police State," fairly salient. Maybe not the
most funny thing ever, but given the sorts of material that gets on SNL
this season, it felt kind of stirring and cathartic. Outside of that:
dreck. <i>(Penned 6/11/21)</i></p>
<div><b>GRADE: C-.</b></div>
</div>
<p></p>
<h2>Cumulative Season Episode Rankings:</h2>
<div>
<div><b>1. </b>Buck Henry #1 (A)</div>
<div><b>2. </b>Richard Pryor (A)</div>
<div><b>3. </b>Madeline Kahn (A-)</div>
<div><b>4. </b>Peter Boyle (A-)</div>
<div><b>5. </b>Desi Arnaz (A-)</div>
<div><b>6. </b>Rob Reiner (A-)</div>
<div><b>7. </b>Candice Bergen #2 (B+)</div>
<div><b>8. </b>Buck Henry #2 (B+)</div>
<div><b>9. </b>Elliott Gould #1 (B+)</div>
<div><b>10. </b>Robert Klein (B)</div>
<div><b>11. </b>Peter Cook & Dudley Moore (B)</div>
<div><b>12. </b>Lily Tomlin (B)</div>
<div><b>13. </b>George Carlin (B)</div>
<div><b>14. </b>Candice Bergen #1 (B)</div>
<div><b>15. </b>Paul Simon (B)</div>
<div><b>16. </b>Jill Clayburgh (B-)</div>
<div><b>17. </b>Ron Nessen (B-)</div>
<div><b>18. </b>Elliott Gould #2 (B-)</div>
<div><b>19. </b>Anthony Perkins (B-)</div>
<div><b>20. </b>Raquel Welch (B-)</div>
<div><b>21. </b>Dyan Cannon (C+)</div>
<div><b>22. </b>Dick Cavett (C+)</div>
<div><b>23. </b>Louise Lasser (C)</div>
<div><b>24. </b>Kris Kristofferson (C-)</div>
</div>
<p>
<b>FAVORITE SKETCHES:</b>
</p>
<p>
<b>10. </b>"Talk Back" (S1E21 / Buck Henry #2)<br /><b>9.</b> "Samurai Delicatessen" (S1E10 / Buck Henry #1)<br /><b>8. </b>"Word Association" (S1E07 / Richard Pryor)<br /><b>7.</b> "Laundromat"
(S1E08 / Candice Bergen #2)<br /><b>6. </b>"Police State" (S1E24 / Kris
Kristofferson)<br /><b>5. </b>"Slumber Party" (S1E19 / Madeline
Kahn)<br /><b>4. </b>"New Shine" (S1E09 / Elliott Gould #1)<br /><b>3. </b>"Jaws II" (S1E04 / Candice Bergen #1)<b><br />2.</b> "The Decabet"
(S1E18 / Raquel Welch)<br /><b>1. </b>"Buck Henry Monologue" (S1E21 /
Buck Henry #2)
</p>
<p>
<b>Honorable mention: </b>Andy Kaufman. I didn't want to put him in the list
because I feel like his presence is largely outside of the show, but "Mighty
Mouse" remains a classic, and his Foreign Man routine is wonderful,
too.
</p>
<p>
<b>Other great sketches:</b> "Wolverines" (S1E01 / George Carlin); "Black
& White" and "Exorcist II" (S1E07 / Richard Pryor); "An Oval Office"
(S1E09 / Buck Henry #1); "Janitor in a Fridge" (S1E13 / Peter Boyle); "Bass-o-matic" and "Supreme Court" (S1E17 / Ron Nessen); "Beatles Offer"
(S1E14 / Raquel Welch); "I Will Follow Him" (S1E19 / Madeline Kahn);
"Hearing Test" (S1E20 / Dyan Cannon); "The Last Voyage of the Starship Enterprise" (S1E22 / Elliott Gould #2); "Girl Talk" (S1E23 / Louise Lasser)
</p>
<p><b>FAVORITE MUSICAL PERFORMANCES / ETC.</b></p>
<p>
<b>9. </b> Jill Clayburgh and The Idlers (S1E15 / Jill Clayburgh) <br /><b>8. </b>"King Bee" (S1E10 / Buck Henry)<br /><b>7. </b>Lily Tomlin and the cast
scatting at the goodnights (S1E06 / Lily Tomlin)<br /><b>6. </b>Patti
Smith Group (S1E17 / Ron Nessen)<br /><b>5.</b> "The Lockers" (S1E03 /
Rob Reiner)<br /><b>4.</b> Leon & Mary Russell & Joe Cocker
(S1E20 / Dyan Cannon)<br /><b>3.</b> Desi Arnaz & Desi Arnaz Jr.
(and the conga line) (S1E14 / Desi Arnaz)<br /><b>2.</b> "Bride of
Frankenstein" (S1E19 / Madeline Kahn)<br /><b>1. </b>Garrett Morris,
Candice Bergen, and the cast sing "Winter Wonderland" (S1E08 / Candice
Bergen #2)
</p>
<p><b>SEASON GRADE AVERAGE: B.</b></p>
<p>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">Follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>!</i>
</p>
<p></p>
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<p></p>
</div>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-72722267855393822352021-06-20T12:40:00.005-05:002021-06-20T12:50:34.955-05:00Final Space Review: The Devil's Den<p></p>
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<br />
<p></p>
<div style="background-color: white; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>"Lightfold."</b></i></span></span>
</div>
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<br />--
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</div>
<p>
<b>(NOTE: Major spoiler alert for this review! Do not read this unless you've
seen the episode or are okay with it being ruined for you!)</b>
</p>
<p>
Gary and his crew stand, immobilized, staring out the window of their ship.
They're on the other side of the gate, back in their universe, but it's not a
celebratory moment. The fabrics of the universe burst, blinding pink lights
shining through the seams, as Invictus stands before them. At a loss for
words, all he can say is <i>"My God, what have I done?" </i>
</p>
<p>
The classic story-telling adage is to always leave them wanting more, and
that's certainly a concept that <i>Final Space</i> rides out to the max,
especially with its finales. But whereas there has been some assurance in the
past that things will be alright, with some persisting glimmer of
positivity—the first season was renewed almost immediately, and the second,
beyond having
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2019/09/final-space-sixth-key.html">something of a happy ending</a>, was renewed pretty quickly thereafter—the startling darkness which Season 3
ends on is compounded by the fear that this could very well be the end of the
road. <span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p>
<p></p>
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</div>
<i>Final Space</i> is, in its very existence, a challenging show. It deploys
increasingly-lessening suggestions of comedy while telling deep, gripping drama
with pretty hardcore serialization that helps maintain the stakes as perpetually
intense, and that's proven to be a hard sell to the networks it's found its home
on. Its second season on Adult Swim floundered under interference and notes that
it take a more comedic and episodic approach which watered down it vision, while
its third season received the least backing from its resident network yet, with
every episode being released to minimal fanfare or promotional consideration.
Hell, the last three episodes fell victim to budget cuts that necessitated that
they be altered to the degree that this finale was almost entirely redone. As I
mentioned in
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/06/final-space-review-dead-speak.html">a previous review</a>, Olan's frankness about his experiences in the industry are difficult to
stomach, and it's hard not to be sympathetic to it. It's hard not to just get
overwhelmed in the moment, sitting there stunned at the episode's end and
praying that this isn't where the journey stops.
<p></p>
<p>
But you can't get angry at Olan and co. being unafraid to pack the cruelest
punch in the face of the show's uncertain future—that's what you wanna expect,
no holds barred. There was never gonna be a happy ending, but that doesn't
mean I can't commend <i>Final Space</i> any less for even daring to do
something so dangerous. "The Devil's Den" as an episode is the result of
calculated build-up, and while that occasionally plays out to the episode's
slight detriment, that also ensures its success in the grand scheme of things.
</p>
<p>
Most prominently, Ash has solidified her spot in this next iteration of the
show by formally joining the opposition, declaring that Invictus was right about
everything. It really starts to set in that Ash is too far gone by this point,
absolutely irreconcilable, and it's a stride distressingly quintessential to
this season: it's not that <i>Final Space</i> is a show less foundationally
based on hope, but there are some things you just can't place hope in.
</p>
<p></p>
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When she confronts Gary and Avocato again, who have come to retrieve Little Cato
and profess to the truth of the matter, amidst the power struggle, Gary lets out
a meager but meaningful apology to her: <i>"I'm sorry we failed you."</i> For a
moment, it registers in Ash, but she can't be recovered. It's one of the
episode's most startling moments, least of all because it doesn't prompt some
maudlin change of heart. It reminds us that Ash is a tragic figure who's endured
an existence crueler than she deserves, and that boost of humanity helps steer
the episode through its most tortured portions, where the nothingness sets in
behind her eyes and she becomes one with Invictus' poisonous grip. Some other
factors complicate the broth as well, especially the Lord Commander, who makes
his entrance as a threat to both parties (before getting a pretty immediate ass-whooping), but "The Devil's Den" lives and dies in breaking down its
dramatics into its most human aspects.
<div>
<p></p>
<p>
Things aren't quite as intense for the rest of the cast, even if that's
partially by design. Quinn and her half of the crew handle
the far tamer mission this episode of reconnecting the gate to the outside
world, which at least makes for a chance to give her and some of the show's
ancillary cast just one more go to do what they do best. Sheryl aids in
Quinn's personal dilemmas with her unique brand of tried-and-true, tough
love pragmatism—formerly a tool that made her slick and diabolical, but
which has gone on to imbue her character with legitimate heart. As Quinn
sits anxiously on the precipice of losing her identity by
putting on Nightfall's helmet, Sheryl's reassurance that she's simply
becoming the next evolution of herself was a particularly sweet moment. And
the season's two most expendable cast members, K.V.N. and Biskit, both get
shining moments that more than redeem their struggles over the past few
episodes. The latter especially affirms his worth, which I didn't
think was
<i>possible</i>, through his contributions of the Dragonhawk V and a newly
souped-up H.U.E. that saves Gary and the Catos from certain doom.
</p>
<p></p>
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They do stumble upon a snag, though. Even with the portal brought back to full
power, it's disconnected from the other side and inoperable unless they can
find someone out there able to reactivate it. Those dramatics surrounding the
gate are perhaps a bit labored this episode, though more by fault of the
show's intense telegraphing; we know Tribore is on the other side and that
he'll connect the gate for Quinn, so it's just a matter of waiting for that to
happen while our cast looks on as if the situation is hopeless. Perhaps it's a
mandatory beat for the narrative, but having Quinn and Gary confess their love
for each other under the presumption that they'll be trapped in Final Space
doesn't really register when you know things are about to take a good turn.
<p></p>
<p>
Fortunately, there's still a ways to go before the episode ends, and the
gate opening is far from the finish line. As the gang reunites and prepares
to make their exit, they're suddenly pulled back by Ash, and in the
struggle, Mooncake breaks free and attacks her to free them up... but it
proves itself to be a lose-lose situation. Ash easily overpowers Mooncake,
who is no longer the strongest being in the universe, and drains him of his
power, presumably killing him and granting Invictus the key that it needs to
break free. For the first time, then and there, Quinn doesn't try to
persevere. She coldly commands the ship to lightfold as Gary cries over the
loss of Mooncake. It's a heart-breaking shift for her character, someone
always determined to fight things out in pursuit of some unequivocal
victory, but a mandatory one. There's no going back.
</p>
<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmKEJwHSormg-u5X5MR_oAnjlbMY4yvTPmAMKQfRIz8RTaGAuFi6g-0-DZz3ABued__jN0RYMHFosoj-N28JMOZoOdTWwNs1I57J_eLKOH0fSiWf-8sI5-QLnJbEZWLzwtV8ZxUFUKFMs/s2048/Screenshot+%252810639%2529.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmKEJwHSormg-u5X5MR_oAnjlbMY4yvTPmAMKQfRIz8RTaGAuFi6g-0-DZz3ABued__jN0RYMHFosoj-N28JMOZoOdTWwNs1I57J_eLKOH0fSiWf-8sI5-QLnJbEZWLzwtV8ZxUFUKFMs/s16000/Screenshot+%252810639%2529.png" width="320" /></a>
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The loss of Mooncake maybe isn't the deepest, most emotional gut punch the
show could do, but it's no less of a shocking moment. Maybe it's just me, but
I can struggle with the guy at points; he's generally nonverbal and a conduit
for other character's emotions, complex in his background but simplistic in
what he brings to the table. At the same time, though, the
loss of Mooncake is a massive development that threatens not just the fate of
the team squad, but the entire universe. Invictus has all the power it will
ever need, and everyone else is completely powerless in comparison. So while I
didn't cry, I felt a knot in my stomach with the realization that things are
horribly, <i>horribly</i> fucked. What have you done indeed, Gary.
<p></p>
<p>
It's sad to think the story could end here, far before the narrative of the
show can be completed and especially at the point where it feels like Final
Space has finally, fully actualized itself and become the show that it's
always wanted to be. But if this is the last <i>Final Space</i> review that
I ever write, I just wanna say...
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2018/02/final-space-chapters-one-and-two-review.html">remember when I wrote my first review of the show</a>? (You might or you might not, and if you don't, well, thanks for joining
me on the journey anyway.) I recall watching the first two chapters due to
my contractual obligation as a human being to be entranced by the ball of
human sunshine that is Olan Rogers, and I also recall treating the show with
a naive skepticism. But I don't think, looking back, that that was a poor
judgment call; I was naive of the show's future, and the show was naive
alongside me.
</p>
<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfyNgPjKE__KCmMAarm57Ow_W02Bf6AiCa8uqSd8aGUTqtUpM9NfGZX4UmnCrbjR023bOJ4M05KWxt74zOb1q8Rey-9DXJDK38gatQM5KMdezT07vJJF5VB5qKh_hVlcmgwoeNByfwZSw/s2048/Screenshot+%252810641%2529.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfyNgPjKE__KCmMAarm57Ow_W02Bf6AiCa8uqSd8aGUTqtUpM9NfGZX4UmnCrbjR023bOJ4M05KWxt74zOb1q8Rey-9DXJDK38gatQM5KMdezT07vJJF5VB5qKh_hVlcmgwoeNByfwZSw/s16000/Screenshot+%252810641%2529.png" width="320" /></a>
</div>
Gary used to be a loud, shouty man-child with an inconsolable affection for a
woman he barely knew, and a prisoner trapped in solitary confinement whose
only defense against insanity was extreme annoyance. But the show's kept
growing, and changing, taking risks and coming into itself, temperamental as
ever to criticism but never straying from the guiding light that is its
intuition. Gary became a figure of great warmth, a prototypically-unlikely
hero and occasional wild card as always but a character defined by great love
to placate the darkness. He's an amazing character. I don't want to
pretend that I made a difference in the show's evolution, but to be able to
follow it along its way, to watch it survive the initial hostility it was met
by and go on to defiantly defy the box it was put in, was a spell-binding
experience. I hope that this isn't the end of the journey, but no matter what,
it's a journey that I'm grateful that I took.
<p></p>
<p><b>FINAL GRADE: A.</b></p>
<p><b>SEASON GRADE: A.</b></p><p><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">For my last Final Space review of "The Leaving," <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/06/final-space-review-leaving.html">CLICK HERE</a>.<br /><br />Additionally, you can access every Final Space review I have ever written <a href="https://www.reddit.com/user/Mattalamode/comments/caw0zq/mattalamodes_final_space_repository/" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">HERE</a>.<br /><br />For updates every time I post a new review, follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>.</i></p><p><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">Special thanks to my friend Henry for stepping in and helping me edit this final piece! You're the best, dude.</i></p>
<p></p>
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Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-65434720092910848412021-06-13T20:46:00.000-05:002021-06-13T20:46:56.657-05:00Final Space Review: The Leaving<p></p>
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<div style="background-color: white; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>"I've left a lot of places called home. Trust me, you get over
it."</b></i></span></span>
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<p>
One of the hardest things to pen about a review, for me, is the opening. I
have to condense all of my general thoughts about the episode I just watched
with tact, nuance, and a certain level of reflection of what preceded it. I
have to look smart enough to make the reader think that they'll be in good
hands across the paragraphs that follow. But that doesn't mean that I'm any
less susceptible to the anxiety of your average <i>Final Space</i> fan when
something happens that just rips your heart out and leaves you at a loss for
words. When "The Leaving" ended, all I was simply left wondering, nervously,
was how the <i>hell</i> will <i>Final Space</i> finish off this season in
anywhere close to a comfortable spot?
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
That underestimation of the amount of risk <i>Final Space</i> allows itself to
take with its story-telling is something that enables its more
emotionally-scathing moments to cut so deeply. From where the episode ended
(which I'll work up to in a moment), there's no time for healing; almost the
entire crew sits on the precipice of death while simultaneously having to deal
with one of the greatest dangers they will ever face. And to think that we got
there with an episode that started out, most cruelly, like everything was going
to be alright. (You're a tricky, mean little episode title, aren'tcha?)<span><a name='more'></a></span>
<div>
<br />Across most of the first half of "The Leaving," things are going
surprisingly well. Biskit easily locates the bridge in spite of HUE's
skepticism that it could ever be found, and the team squad quickly works
together to bring it back online using Mooncake as a power source. As it
slowly charges up, that also grants our crew the sort of downtime that they've
been in desperate need of for far too long. While some characters treat it
hedonistically or apathetically—Gary and Quinn immediately run off for some
celebratory love-making, while Ash boredly flicks her powers in her
fingers—that silence also makes room for more theoretically-profound material,
which "The Leaving" finds in the form of Little Cato finally asking Avocato
about his mother.
<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV_4dUymDh2U0DgJQ0SxZuq_ecrD-X-peGQTiN1UMnlASoYQV1DlkyzK_0_D7tAeuvP2OzFbRVFAiPE3QXxEcPHTHXU3Nkqlu7arebemPdUnr6Oi2MS4M6EpWbzCZTUfPU9oB4jeIazAw/s2048/Screenshot+%252810277%2529.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV_4dUymDh2U0DgJQ0SxZuq_ecrD-X-peGQTiN1UMnlASoYQV1DlkyzK_0_D7tAeuvP2OzFbRVFAiPE3QXxEcPHTHXU3Nkqlu7arebemPdUnr6Oi2MS4M6EpWbzCZTUfPU9oB4jeIazAw/s16000/Screenshot+%252810277%2529.png" width="320" /></a>
</div>
It's a question that's been floating in the ether
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/04/final-space-review-ventrexian.html">for a </a><a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/05/final-space-review-forgiveness.html">while now</a>: how will the truth of the matter be received? And indeed, knowing the power
of that uncertainty, "The Leaving" is built around weaponizing that
information. There's already a hint, amidst this grace period in the episode,
that things might not be as easy as they seem; Avocato nervously lies to
Little Cato about his mother against his better judgment, saying she died
during childbirth. That's the moment where the episode's feel-good facade
begins to crack, and from there the crack just continues to grow until
everything shatters.
<div>
<p>
First, morale goes from the highest its ever been to the absolute lowest.
Within the span of ten seconds, the brutal shift of "The Leaving" kicks
in: we go from celebration, to terror, to abject tragedy when the gate
hits 100% charge... only to dangerously over-charge and be forced back
offline. All of the hope that was guiding the episode along evaporates.
There's nothing to look forward to, and Avocato pulls Gary anxiously aside
and frets about how he lied to his adoptive son again—a conversation that
Ash walks in on, to detrimental effect.
</p>
<p>
Every week when I pen a review, I feel like there's something about the
last review, in its general miscalculation, worth wincing about. I was
correct,
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/06/final-space-review-dead-speak.html">last week</a>, in pointing out Ash's alienation from the rest of the crew, but I was
incorrect in thinking that it could speak to any more of a trust being
built. This entire season has found her confidence in Gary and the others
tested and compromised as her uncertainty for Invictus' alleged evilness
intensified, and whatever nice moments she's been granted point more
towards the deeply complicated tug-and-pull of both sides than
reconciliation with the team squad. And indeed, too, I think that
<i>Final Space</i> has done a great job, across this season, of allowing
us to understand why Ash feels as she does, even if the episode ends with
her committing a psychotic, selfish act which she feels the hero for.
</p>
<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOV_X-_8le0Y_uWFhM1TGupskmICuHpooXJyRXt_pIc_yiDw0VzDqdD8_RkHfOz1D4Fu-sTwhfr6bzydl9yr3PuYyyTMs3wG1jEeK4azV0-Usz4AmWntKB4wyVfCG0lONKOC4iuqEfOw/s2048/Screenshot+%252810288%2529.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOV_X-_8le0Y_uWFhM1TGupskmICuHpooXJyRXt_pIc_yiDw0VzDqdD8_RkHfOz1D4Fu-sTwhfr6bzydl9yr3PuYyyTMs3wG1jEeK4azV0-Usz4AmWntKB4wyVfCG0lONKOC4iuqEfOw/s16000/Screenshot+%252810288%2529.png" width="320" /></a>
</div>
Ash is a complicated character. She's someone who feels like she has nobody
she can trust, and has endured a tragic existence which has validated that
sentiment.
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2019/07/final-space-review-grand-surrender.html">Her birth parents offered her to be fed to a serpent</a>, during which she saw her sibling die;
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2019/09/final-space-review-set-up.html">her adoptive father pettily betrayed her</a>
for the sake of schmoozing up to Sheryl, putting her brother on life
support; and
<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/05/final-space-review-chamber-of-doubt.html">she saw Gary kill her brother</a>, even if Invictus was pulling the strings of the entire "prophecy" that
foreshadowed that action. The person she was closest to in the crew,
Nightfall, sacrificed herself, and the only person who's been able to
properly connect to her and not betray her trust is Little Cato... so when
she witnesses Little Cato as the victim of the sort of duplicitous
injustices which have haunted her life, she feels like she needs to protect
him. She interprets Avocato as a despicable person for the past actions that
he himself struggles to reconcile with—even when he's literally on the verge
of finally telling his son the truth—but instead of offering him the chance
to confront him, she tries to kill him and steals his son away to "the good
side."
<p></p>
Of course, we as an audience recognize that Ash is in the wrong, a point
"The Leaving" brutally punctuates in having Ash forcefully tell Little Cato
his father's secret, and even more forcefully steal him away as he cries out
that the Galaxy Two is his home. But Ash reads as a character who is a
victim by her own trauma, and one that just so happens to have all the
powers in the universe. In her own weird, twisted, and inexcusable way,
she's deeply sympathetic. She has that upsetting humanity to her that grants
her into more than just the vague malice of the Lord Commander or Invictus.
She's the perfect villain.
<p></p>
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</div>
So I repeat, with one episode left before this season is over: how the
<i>hell </i>with this season end? Will Tribore come back into play? Will Evra? Will everybody die? I don't know. I'm bracing for a level
of heartbreak the likes of which we haven't yet seen. That's the scariest,
and simultaneously the greatest thing about <i>Final Space</i> for me: at a certain
point, no amount of my analysis can do justice to the excitement and dread
that the show makes me feel, week after week. I can't pretend to be some
intellectual overlooking the show. I'm just rolling with the punches like
everyone else, and feeling that pain, and praying, foolishly, that
everything will be okay. Spare no mercy, Olan. Go in for the kill.
<p></p>
<p><b>FINAL GRADE: A+.</b></p>
<p>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">For my last Final Space review of "The Dead Speak," <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/06/final-space-review-dead-speak.html">CLICK HERE</a>.<br /><br />Additionally, you can access every Final Space review I
have ever written <a href="https://www.reddit.com/user/Mattalamode/comments/caw0zq/mattalamodes_final_space_repository/" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">HERE</a>.<br /><br />For updates every time I post a new review, follow me on
Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>.</i>
</p>
<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiezDcVLWffJDqnbqOv0efmxYSdm5cR9WEuV9U0m1YS5dxdmCQKIwBlJpdaOs0jQ8yAM40gSBmmA4vjCkH_Ecbd-eZs1IeBv2fCjYO6iWh3BdQu6bHBreuxTu3gMEzv_YFKT8RurPCBJ6M/s2048/Screenshot+%252810300%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiezDcVLWffJDqnbqOv0efmxYSdm5cR9WEuV9U0m1YS5dxdmCQKIwBlJpdaOs0jQ8yAM40gSBmmA4vjCkH_Ecbd-eZs1IeBv2fCjYO6iWh3BdQu6bHBreuxTu3gMEzv_YFKT8RurPCBJ6M/s16000/Screenshot+%252810300%2529.png" width="518" /></a></div>
<p></p>
</div>
</div>
Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3377620348314674051.post-56154652174334397932021-06-06T21:57:00.003-05:002021-06-06T21:57:27.231-05:00Final Space Review: The Dead Speak<p></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrccosAO9z_H6itDpmmc1fMlC1M7eJ65Cgy08tWCq_EH33bGRWm-mObfbkQbJOihh1p0_FOgwFybo2G__3IugUZyzldwRoOld9RvJ-wgWmPsl41xhKrq0po02IE8hyCzS-cqtSsJH8K2g/s2048/Screenshot+%252810036%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrccosAO9z_H6itDpmmc1fMlC1M7eJ65Cgy08tWCq_EH33bGRWm-mObfbkQbJOihh1p0_FOgwFybo2G__3IugUZyzldwRoOld9RvJ-wgWmPsl41xhKrq0po02IE8hyCzS-cqtSsJH8K2g/s16000/Screenshot+%252810036%2529.png" width="518" /></a>
</div>
<p></p>
<div style="background-color: white; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>"Did anyone tape that? Because I could play that over and over and
over and over and over."</b></i></span></span>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; font-family: Arimo;">
<br />--
</div>
</div>
<p></p>
<p>
As we enter the final three episodes of the season, there's a daunting
revelation about the current state of <i>Final Space</i> as a show. It's not
just that the show's future remains uncertain, like many of its animated
contemporaries; as Olan made clear, t<a href="https://twitter.com/OlanRogers/status/1399171107039502344">hese last three episodes were the victim of budget limitations and intense rewrites culminating in a final stretch that slowly works its way towards an entirely different finale</a>. It's a level of
transparency that puts me in an interesting position as a reviewer: do I
assess the show differently knowing the sort of circumstances that have
heavily factored into what it became, or do I treat the show as if we don't
have a pulse on the inner turmoil? Fortunately, that's a question to ponder
more intently as we near the finale, and doubly fortunately, "The Dead Speak" delivers in the face of that adversity.
</p>
<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8uBiEKgi6uq2xVFlOd99xHcMGbG6-sJRUDspUH-qssRYK252zf1hpKwnT65HRuSTFX52GlabJuw94snGFt2JaHyAWDdQunLWECdtHctNJUkPw4WcX38ZrjVySDbwxQoYelb5SdCDt9wU/s2048/Screenshot+%252810038%2529.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8uBiEKgi6uq2xVFlOd99xHcMGbG6-sJRUDspUH-qssRYK252zf1hpKwnT65HRuSTFX52GlabJuw94snGFt2JaHyAWDdQunLWECdtHctNJUkPw4WcX38ZrjVySDbwxQoYelb5SdCDt9wU/s16000/Screenshot+%252810038%2529.png" width="320" /></a>
</div>
I had a lot of issues with <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/05/final-space-review-until-sky-falls.html">last week's episode</a>. For as much as it
surged the show forward, it felt like an overall muddled effort, too tense to
allow itself to breathe or most of its moments to land. "The Dead Speak" feels
like a nice step back from that mania, swapping out the breakneck pacing of its
predecessor for a more foreboding atmosphere. It starts from as startling of a
place as <i>Final Space</i> can—the Lord Commander murders and decapitates Bolo in cold blood
within the first minute and a half—but the show's quick to assess everything
that's happening and to reel it back enough that the dread can simmer. This
isn't an episode that'll keep going in and out of conflict by the skin of its teeth again.<span><a name='more'></a></span><div><br /> The fact of the matter is that things are the worst that they could possibly
be right now. Bolo is dead. The K.V.N. Net and Earth were destroyed. The Lord
Commander is a Titan. Invictus continues to grow stronger. The
trans-dimensional portal is adrift somewhere in space. And, as this episode
reveals, everyone but Quinn has a nasty case of Final Space poisoning.
Tensions are running high, with Avocato quick to snipe Quinn for being the
reason they're trapped and Ash increasingly unsure of if she's on the
right side or not after all. Whereas other episodes set against such critical
conditions like "<a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/05/final-space-review-forgiveness.html">Forgiveness</a>" have been able to take their time and navigate that darkness
patiently, though, "The Dead Speak" sets its inner turmoil against a siege on
the Galaxy Two by Invictus.<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgboemoTXLN9VyK1dQgR5Lm1xP17GcEZA0vFr8lNU1bKL-csUJ_ki_wewt5a-XSzjsQaeio_nkQDF1ORm1b8dxjbuuxWmuqJZF8Y4SHUBd1-Nhk3O0y6AwNaKsqA6jnHM4eWtin8Nob92I/s2048/Screenshot+%252810025%2529.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgboemoTXLN9VyK1dQgR5Lm1xP17GcEZA0vFr8lNU1bKL-csUJ_ki_wewt5a-XSzjsQaeio_nkQDF1ORm1b8dxjbuuxWmuqJZF8Y4SHUBd1-Nhk3O0y6AwNaKsqA6jnHM4eWtin8Nob92I/s16000/Screenshot+%252810025%2529.png" width="320" /></a>
</div>
If the zombie Gary hailstorm was a bad omen last episode, it becomes an active
terror in this one, with the Garys successfully infiltrating the ship and
shutting off the power, forcing to team squad to splinter off and fend for their
lives. Considering how much <i>Final Space</i> has struggled to allocate
meaningful character work to its large cast, splitting everyone up into
intelligent duos (barring Biskit, who naturally goes greenhorn) allows "The Dead
Speak" to properly examine the interpersonal side of the show at a far more
intimate, appreciable level than usual.
<p></p>
<p>
Quinn and Avocato is perhaps the most unexpected pairing. They're two of the most
complicated characters in the cast, but the things that keep them up at night
are diametrically-opposed. Quinn, buckled under the weight of being the root
cause of their Final Space excursion, wants to save the universe as her
altruism-driven, military upbringing led her to aspire towards; Avocato,
meanwhile, simply wants to escape from his bad past, escape it all, and find
peace with his son. Notably, too, we've seldom seen the two interacting as
crew members, so while the revelation that Avocato quietly resents Quinn might
be sudden, it makes sense as a feeling that would be bubbling from their
relative disconnect in lieu of the closeness that they need. I like that the
episode doesn't try to disqualify either of their perspectives, either.
There's no real resolution between them, and though the narrative (through
Gary's leadership) ultimately sides with Quinn, the episode tempts us to side
in equal part to Avocato, as he reveals the Final Space poisoning that
everyone on the ship other than Quinn is quietly dying from. Keep prodding at
that gray area, show.
</p>
<p></p>
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</div>
Ash and Sheryl make a similarly strong and unexpected pairing as well, two
characters that have a lot of potential to grow together but, inconspicuously,
haven't. Their personal histories are a lot more in-sync (though displaced), with
Sheryl immediately empathizing with Ash's current tug-and-pull between the two
paths in front of her. Sheryl's one of the most interesting and
tragically-underused characters in the cast right now, so I really enjoyed the
opportunity to see her play towards a more maternal role here, approaching Ash's
hostility with her smooth-talking warmth, and even proving the sincerity of her
words by risking her life to save Ash from being possessed by Invictus. Ash
remains alienated from the rest of the team squad, but here's hoping that Sheryl
can become the sort of parental figure she deserves.
<p></p>
<p>
Lastly, there's Gary and Little Cato, the most uninvolved pairing but a sweet
balm amidst the tension of the other groups. It's been a minute since they've
had a one-on-one, Gary notes, and although there's nothing too narratively
compelling about their scenes, it makes for a tender reminder of the fatherly
role Gary played for Little Cato through thick and thin, and that even with
Avocato's return he continues to play. It's impossible to have predicted, way
back in Season 1, that Gary would be the most reassuring member of the pack,
but he's expertly-composed here, deflecting Little Cato's worry for him even
if that worry might be an order.
</p>
<p></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiIdI25cO91y0Mz7fJ9_325dzvGlZ58afYw_DbNIR6r3yNghHTAfKmLXVRdUoIaYXPVzJT37Pxz1zp7oM27QkCU-XSscZLkMhFESO4g2-7WFIAj3i4paBq8lJZ4WrTQH_yYfkNRuARCf4/s2048/Screenshot+%252810049%2529.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiIdI25cO91y0Mz7fJ9_325dzvGlZ58afYw_DbNIR6r3yNghHTAfKmLXVRdUoIaYXPVzJT37Pxz1zp7oM27QkCU-XSscZLkMhFESO4g2-7WFIAj3i4paBq8lJZ4WrTQH_yYfkNRuARCf4/s16000/Screenshot+%252810049%2529.png" width="320" /></a>
</div>
By design, none of the pairings really reach a moment of closure; "The Dead
Speak" is more intent on checking in on its cast and seeing the state
everybody's in, set against a high-stakes scenario that demands their
cooperation. What the episode will most likely go on to be remembered by,
though, is the climactic resurrection of one of the zombified Garies, drained of
Invictus by Ash in hopes of landing the team squad a new clue. What we get is
something far more heart-breaking, though, as the Gary struggles in between
violent retching to recount what he remembers before Invictus claimed him. It's
a moment to recognize that every single one of those Garies was a person, and
still is a person, and that all of them were trapped in Final Space, never saved
by their Quinns. As with the rest of the episode, there's no clue or cure-all
here, either—it's just a sobering and haunting moment that reminds everyone that
there's little hope to cling to left. There's no valiant fight to save the
universe anymore, Quinn decides by the episode's end: the current plan now is
just to escape, keeping everyone alive and together.
<p></p>
<p>
Even with that firm declaration, though, it's hard to say what happens next,
and the reveal that there's another Earth in Final Space for every time Gary
closed the breach—each packing a Titan—seems to forecast disaster. Here's
hoping that the final two episodes of the season, despite their
reconfiguration, can pick up the pieces.
</p>
<p><b>FINAL GRADE: A.</b></p>
<p>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arimo;">For my last Final Space review of "Until the Sky Falls," <a href="https://www.mattalamode.com/2021/05/final-space-review-until-sky-falls.html">CLICK HERE</a>.<br /><br />Additionally, you can access every Final Space review I have
ever written <a href="https://www.reddit.com/user/Mattalamode/comments/caw0zq/mattalamodes_final_space_repository/" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">HERE</a>.<br /><br />For updates every time I post a new review, follow me on
Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/Matt_a_la_mode" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration-line: none;">@Matt_a_la_mode</a>.</i>
</p>
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</div>Mattalamodehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01934381670417838150noreply@blogger.com0