In the first minutes of Peacock’s new documentary series about NBC’s Saturday Night Live, former cast member Joe Piscopo calls the show “the biggest show of all time and the biggest thing to happen to television.” Expressing. And while reasonable people may argue that that’s a bit of a stretch, it’s certainly hard to deny the series’ lasting cultural impact. Not just because it’s rude to pay a harsh compliment on someone’s 50th birthday, even if that “someone” is on a TV show.
That attitude is self-aggrandizing and self-congratulatory, but perhaps unsurprisingly, it pervades throughout SNL50: Beyond Saturday Night. Despite marketing materials promising “unprecedented access,” this documentary is the opposite of any portrait. Instead, it’s a glossy love letter to a hallowed institution. But this production is at least pleasant to watch, thanks to its sheer enthusiasm for its subject matter and the sheer number of famous and glamorous big stars it pays homage to.
SNL50: Beyond Saturday Night
conclusion
Shiny and surface level, but not without charm.
Broadcast date: Thursday, January 16th (Peacock)
Executive producer: Morgan Neville
Executive produced by Morgan Neville (Piece by Piece), SNL50 is less a single, continuous story and more a series of four separate stories that ratchet up SNL’s signature level of mania. It is presented as a documentary. It starts with a warm and fuzzy look at the casting process and ends with: A loving and deep dive into the infamous 1985-1986 season.
The first hour is especially packed with big names (Bill Hader, Amy Poehler, Pete Davidson!), but the sheer number of familiar names and faces prove to be the unifying MO of the entire project. Anyone who has enjoyed mainstream American comedies over the past few decades can probably expect at least a few of their favorites to make an appearance.
This is a victory lap produced by NBC’s sister network, so it’s no surprise that most of what they say is enthusiastic. Even if last year’s Saturday Night seemed to honor the show’s traditions too much to be seen with completely clear eyes, there’s nothing to SNL 50’s rosy view. While the documentary series can acknowledge some of its subjects’ failings, it’s not interested in questioning its place in the comedy world. (Needless to say, the truly dark aspects of that legacy, such as the “culture of impunity” that enables toxicity and abuse, are completely ignored.)
There’s not a lot of juicy gossip to make you feel like you’re at least involved in something, and there aren’t many outside commentators to offer critical analysis or broader cultural context. If you, like me, watch these films in quick succession (all four released on January 16th), their unrelenting positivity can begin to take on the sugar-coated feel of a studio tour. there is. Or, more ironically, at a company holiday party, a competition to see who can praise their employer the most glowingly.
That said, studio tours and holiday parties can be fun even when you know you’re not seeing the big picture, and SNL50 is no different.
The most enjoyable moment of this entire endeavor comes at the premiere, directed by Robert Alexander. Famous SNL alumni watch their auditions and either shed tears (Heidi Gardner), groan (Bowen Yang), or gamely refuse to participate before agreeing. This is a scene where or two (polar)
The most intimate section takes place on the second outing. Embedded in the writers’ room from 2023 to 2024 in the week leading up to the Ayo Edebiri episode, director Marshall Curry offers a weekly take on the grueling but eye-opening process by which the imperfect sausage is made. Masu. Neither article offers any amazing new information, but it’s still interesting to see these details first hand.
The third, with Neil Barkley at the helm, is where SNL50 begins to target a less casual and slightly more nerdy audience. Its 49 minutes are entirely focused on 2000’s “More Cowbell,” a choice that even SNL director Beth McCarthy Miller laughed at and called “absolutely ridiculous.” Christopher Walken is the man who immortalized lines like, “I have a fever, and the only prescription is more cowbell!” — Everyone else, from Will Ferrell to members of the Blue Oyster Cult to cowbell manufacturers, all seem to enjoy the chat, but refuse to speak.
No detail was too small for this strange find, and even head of design Leo Yoshimura never noticed that one lamp was slightly bent. Unless you’re a huge fan of this particular sketch, you’ll find the attention lavished on six minutes a quarter century old to be entirely too much. However, the enthusiasm reflected there is still kind.
But it’s the ostensibly self-critical fourth chapter that makes SNL50’s overarching message clearest. Director Jason Zeldes is set to complete the so-called “weird year” with SNL creator Lorne Michaels returning as executive producer, building an entirely new cast from the ground up, and delivering a famously disastrous season. A Twilight Zone inspired framing device. I ask you to imagine a world where SNL was canceled on the spot. As it almost did before manager Bernie Brillstein persuaded NBC to do so. Another shot of Michaels (who only appears here in a clip from a 2005 interview).
Much has been said about how important this transition year was in transforming SNL from just a TV show to an organization bigger than a struggling cast and low-rating seasons (even bigger than Michaels himself). “Night Live” became synonymous with “Lorne Michaels”).
Moreover, it does not address the questions Brillstein asked himself in that moment of crisis, as recorded in a 2005 roundtable discussion: Should it exist? Was it worth existing? Was it just a habit? Maybe that time has come. ”
Of course, from today’s perspective, those questions are meaningless. What matters is that it lasted and became an iconic ongoing work worthy of commemoration like SNL50. But the documentary never stops asking whether those same questions still apply today. We’re here to celebrate half a century of world-beating success, not to explore the world left in its wake or ask where we’ll go next.
