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Quinta Brunson does her best as Saturday Night Live keeps giggling to itself

The actor's second episode adds on a layer of pointless self-commentary.

Quinta Brunson does her best as Saturday Night Live keeps giggling to itself

As we enter the home stretch of SNL 50, Quinta Brunson seems like one of the least inside, least event-mongering, most business-as-usual hosts possible. She’s not a treasured alumni, not a starry semi-regular on the show, and not a long-absent host making a triumphant return. She’s just a famous, funny lady who has hosted once before and likely will pop up again in the next few years because she seems to have a relaxed try-whatever approach to the show. And a lot of the actual sketches on her newest episode were even more straight down the middle than last time, with easy-to-play games at their center. (Often too easy, but I’ll get to that.) But some business on the margins of this episode offer a case study in the way that Saturday Night Live has allowed itself to occasionally edge into a kind of strange self-consciousness in the past year or two—something that all this attention for the 50th season probably helped to exacerbate.

The core of this is comes from Weekend Update, which is a segment I haven’t talked about much in some of these recaps, mainly because it hasn’t been all that interesting compared to other elements of the show. Colin Jost and Michael Che went through the usual Update development of “not so sure about this” to “hey, these guys are getting better” to “good ol’ Jost and Che” to “OK, I feel like I’ve seen all the moves”… and then hosted the segment for another three or four years past that point, setting a record for the two longest-running Update anchors ever in the process. What they’ve undeniably brought to the desk (and refused to take with them out the door, though Che seems to enjoy pretending he’ll leave) is a sense of genuine looseness that other pairs hinted at, but largely kept contained. Though the jokes themselves are obviously still scripted, little ad-libs are no longer restricted to the occasional half-mumbled asides of the past, or even the Norm Macdonald style accentuation (whether through an extra sentence, repetition, or a pointed deadpan silence). Now the fake anchors routine comment on their own jokes, each other’s jokes, and the audience’s response to all of it, building toward (or, lately, off of) the Joke Swap segments that almost everyone seems to love and remember best from their ongoing tenure. There’s a sense that the Update jokes aren’t truly finished until they’ve figured out whether the audience laughs, cheers, or sounds briefly taken aback. For a show that recruits improvisers and then discourages them from improvising, this is a pretty major shift, and mostly a welcome one. No one needs “funny” improvised asides in the actual sketches, but Jost and Che have helped Update revel a bit more in the show’s live-ness, which is exciting.

But it also means that it’s possible to have an Update like this episode’s, where it starts to feel like half the segment is just Jost and Che self-amusedly keeping tabs on audience reactions, and maybe even shifting those audience reactions by doing so, taking gleeful or faux-embarrassed note of the audience taking note of their edgiest material. Somehow it comes across as half calculation, half crapshoot. That quality can be electric with another performer in the mix, as with Ego Nwodim’s stand-up parody a few episodes ago. But here, even with two perfectly decent desk pieces from Michael Longfellow as himself and Sarah Sherman and Bowen Yang as a sloshed chain restaurant-loving couple, it was less a satirical commentary on current events than a commentary track on Weekend Update. It started to feel, as it sometimes has in weeks past, like half the lines are playing straight to the room, and not much further than that. Take Jost’s extended bit about the Trump comment regarding kids getting fewer dolls for Christmas: Rather than really go after Trump or use the remark as some kind of launchpad for something genuinely silly or absurd, he did a whole riff where the quasi-ironic joke is how outrageous it is that Jost himself would lean into stereotypes about himself and say such things. Then, for good measure, he brought it up again a few minutes later. Others have taken this team to task for their centrism, but in their worst moments, they’re less politically centrist than simply self-centered. It’s not that Jost needed to go in for the kill on that doll remark so much as he didn’t really bother to find a genuine angle, just a kind of show-offy exaggeration.

Be thankful for small favors; this particular edition of Update contained no “it’s the ’90s, Colin” or cute jokes about Scarlett (or even any Jost-bashing from the Update guests), or running gags about the supposedly well-known fact that Jost bought a ferry with Pete Davidson. No, the latter actually made it into a sketch! And a sketch—the one about two irate drivers miming reproachments and insults at each other—that was reprised with a kind of corny knowingness because Brunson did it last time, even though it’s since been reprised without her. Ah, yes, the famous Quinta Brunson driver miming sketch! Melissa McCarthy made a game attempt to top it, which makes the topper of “remember Jost and the ferry? Again?” even more deflating.

Look, I know this stuff is supposed to be all in good fun, and as a longtime viewer, I admit that the in-jokiness has often delighted me in the past. I am very much the audience for silly jokes about SNL lore. For that matter, Jost and Che come up with at least a few stinging jokes for most Updates, as they did this week. But when it becomes such a prominent feature of the show, however temporarily, it runs the risk of grating as much as any recurring bit.

The rest of the episode theoretically provided a counter to the self-referential stuff; sketches where Frederick Douglass (Kenan Thompson) and Harriet Tubman (Brunson) are less than eager to return to their “own time” after a Bill And Ted-style time-travel adventure, or where a coke enthusiast (Thompson) attempts to use a support group as means of sniffing out the local drug situation, had a kind of old-fashioned, straightforward charm, not least because this was the most Kenan-centric episode of the season, maybe of the past few years. Those aforementioned sketches also didn’t have much to offer beyond Kenan’s particular style once their central games were revealed in the first minute or so. And so they, too, started to feel like an in-joke, however accidentally—Kenan “doing his thing” repeatedly, rather than just going ahead and doing his thing. The episode was far from painful, but when the point-of-view shot in “Two Bitches vs. a Gorilla” counts as its greatest formal innovation, maybe the in-jokes aren’t doing the work they’re supposed to.

What Was On

The show has gone to this well before, but the Forever 31 ad, a clear companion piece to Fashion Coward, was another fine illustration of how confident the show has become in capturing their own staff’s ambivalence about aging out of the cool demographic. Just a snappy, well-performed combination of observational humor and ad parody. Another familiar format, the business seminars where all the employees refuse to interpret any tips correctly, also worked in large part thanks to Brunson, who kept her “compliment sandwich” interjections wonderfully matter-of-fact. She was also funny in the sketch about the trash-talking boxer who also happened to be too small and weak to back up his insults with physical prowess.

What was off

If the rest of the sketches felt kind of tired out before they reached their quick-enough endpoints, they were no competition for that opening Trump piece, which was tired more or less from the jump, to the point where James Austin Johnson seemed to have trouble holding on to the voice. Maybe it’s utter incompatibility of playing Trump as an insult-comic emcee dunking on his creepy employees; I’ve complained about this before, but it torpedoed this First 100 Days bit almost immediately, especially when trotting out Mikey Day’s misjudged Stephen Miller. (Does the guy really come across like a vampire, per se, or a sniveling debate-club lizard gassing himself up with his own righteous fury?)

Most valuable player (who may or may not be ready for prime time)

Familiarity or not, it’s gotta be Kenan.

Next time

Walton Goggins and Arcade Fire, which sounds like just about the most exciting episode of 2010. To be fair, the prospect of Goggins on the show is still exciting. Lorne Michaels making sure that no musician deemed problematic go unbooked on SNL, no matter how low-quality their comeback single, is less so.

Stray observations

  • • Some nice turns of phrase throughout the episode: the squirmy repetition of “chat babies” in the otherwise somewhat belabored OnlySeniors ad; the narration specifying that Brunson’s mouthy boxer was placed in a pillowcase and “carried… gently to a convalescent home.”
  • • Benson Boone: Not for me. And the fact that they brought out Sabrina Carpenter for the monologue vaguely suggests that maybe someone knew others would have this reaction? Or maybe Carpenter is just looking to shore up her friend-of-SNL bona fides. Has Lorne forsaken Miley Cyrus?!
  • • I did enjoy Boone’s set decoration, and his playful breaking of standard SNL protocol by interacting with Brunson after she introduced him. Fix the songs and he’d really have something going!
  • • Honestly not sure what to make of “Two Bitches vs. a Gorilla,” which felt both apologetically overexplained with that intro (maybe better to just let it happen and if you know that it’s an internet thing, hey, great) and pretty undercooked even with Brunson and Nwodim enthusiastically teamed up. Like a lot of this episode, it didn’t exactly hit or miss.

 
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