This week’s Saturday Night Live was proof that we’re just not ready to process the election yet. It’s a subject everyone is either ailing of, or aili
This week’s Saturday Night Live was proof that we’re just not ready to process the election yet. It’s a subject everyone is either ailing of, or ailing over. Not talking about it feels weird and wrong; talking about it feels tedious and raucous and hopeless.
Supposedly there was an online petition for SNL not to go the mournful route it had in the 2016 post-election cool open, when Kate McKinnon—who’d spent the year playing Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton—sang a version of Leonard Cohen‘s “Hallelujah” at the piano. (I loved that performance, for what it’s worth, and put it on par for emotional impact with SNL’s first post 9/11 show—when everybody’s then-favorite mayor, Rudolph Giuliani, stood flanked by NYC firefighters and police officers.) Would Maya Rudolph, who I hope at least had a good weepy phone call with Vice President Kamala Harris this week, appear? Would the cool open be somber or outraged or true? And what would even feel “right,” as every response right now feels exhausting and wrong?
All to say, the cool open worked for me. It began with vets Kenan Thompson, Bowen Yang, Ego Nwodim, and Heidi Gardner speaking stone-faced to the camera, listing off the stunning premise of President-elect Trump’s decisive win as if they were an HR department reading off a script. But then they all flipped the script and started marveling at the Emperor’s fantastic wardrobe. Whatever the lamestream media’s problem was with Trump, the SNL family has always had his back. (All except Michael Che, warned Colin Jost, spelling out his co-anchor’s last name just in case Trump wanted to get to work on his enemies’ list.) “I was one of the proud 8% [of Black women] who voted for you,” promised Nwodim. “If we find out someone here voted for Kamala, we’ll rat them out so fast,” said Yang. Sarah Sherman dangled their “three new disgusting cast members” as scapegoats for him to exact revenge.
Someone stuck destitute James Austin Johnson, who I imagine was the drunkest cast member of all on Tuesday, in a “hot, jacked Trump” muscle suit. “Heil King,” Marcello Hernandez praised. The only substantial laugh of the open was Dana Carvey’s pivot from playing President Joe Biden to playing Elon Musk. He jumped around and threw his arms in the air like a dipshit—I’m going to miss you most of all, Governor Walz—and then the cast treated the disaffected juvenile men of America to a rendition of “Y.M.C.A.” Good, tender chaos.
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